The Fall

“Shut up Wonwoo.” You whisper through gritted teeth, although make a conscious effort to divert your attention away from the beauty that stands before you.

“You know you should….”

But Wonwoo doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Junhui’s attention turns to you both and even Wonwoo, who is generally unaffected by even the most disastrous of circumstances, sits up straight like a child who's just been caught doing something they absolutely shouldn’t be doing.

“Was that something you wanted to share Wonwoo?”

God, even the way he talks is like something from the past, it holds that same reverence of people centuries ago who used to speak properly and with authority, rather than the abbreviations and slang that everyone uses today. You’d once written lol (by accident) in an email to him and you’re certain you saw him getting a dictionary off his bookshelf to see what this strange word you’d emailed him meant. It’s just every single facet of him demands respect, be it his beauty or the way he holds himself, he’s a monolith in a world of pebbles and you can’t help being drawn in by him.

“Oh! Er…” Wonwoo frantically looks around the room hoping something might jump out at him, because he really can’t tell his boss that he was about to say ‘You know you should just fuck him in his office’, “_____! She has a couple of manuscripts by new authors that she hasn’t shut up about for weeks!”

Fuck you Jeon Wonwoo.

But then Junhui turns his attention to you and you’re presented with a hopeful smile that in all seriousness, you would enter a battle for.

“Is that true?”

You’re certain his skin is actually shimmering, not in that fresh glow you get when you’ve been in the sun or the mirror like hue you get after a particularly amazing facial, but it just shimmers like he’s glowing from within. You’re not even sure skincare could achieve it, it’s surely…..

“_____?”

Shit. The whole publishing department is waiting on your answer and you’re sitting deciding whether it’s moisturiser or genetics that causes your boss to be fucking ethereal.

“Sorry!” You blush, picking at the skin near your thumb nail, “I do have a couple that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but I wasn’t sure they’d be what you were looking for.”

“To be honest,” damn his smile for making it so hard to concentrate on a word he’s saying, “I don’t know what I’m looking for. We need something fresh yet…timeless, I suppose. We need something to shake up the industry, like…..”

“Like 1984 but perhaps a little less true to life?”

You’ve done it. Your life has peaked. You have made Junhui laugh, you’ve seen the wide smile that forms on that stoic face and now you’ll never get over it. And it isn’t that he’s unpleasant, he smiles to you all and wishes you a good morning, but you’ve never seen him laugh. And now you have and you think you want to have the privilege of hearing it every day for eternity.

“That’s exactly it _____, yes. If you have time this week, drop by my office and we’ll check out those manuscripts.”

Breathe _____. He’s asked you to stop by his office for work. The way your heart just leaped, you’d think he’d just gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

“O-okay,” you nod, fumbling with your notebook and pen, whilst you desperately try to play it cool.

“Very smooth.” Wonwoo murmurs as he watches Junhui start talking about publishing deadlines.

“Fuck. Off.” You poke him with your pen, enjoying the way he tries to pretend it didn’t affect him.

The rest of Thursday, after the meeting, had been derailed by Vernon. One of the writers you look after as his editor and a man so annoying that in a few years, it wouldn’t surprise you if you were doing jail time for murdering him.

He’d called you in a panic, saying his creative spark had fizzled out and he was going to join a new “collective” of artists in Nepal, where he’d smoke weed and take part in group activities that would allow his creative juices to flow freely again. So, when you’d arrived at his house by the beach and discovered exactly what these “activities” included, you informed Vernon what he was actually planning on joining was a cult.

You then had to spend forty minutes with a frantic Vernon looking over your shoulder, coming down from his last high with a whole cake on a plate because of his munchies, as you checked every email from this “collective” and rang his bank to make sure they hadn’t already taken any payments. When the leader of the cult called him, not that you realised they used phones, you always thought cult leaders would have some sort of edgy system of communication, Vernon threw the phone to you in a blind panic.

Two hours. Two whole hours of your day wasted by talking to a man named Supreme Leader John the Second (presumably Supreme Leader John the First was the first cult leader) who was adamant that now Vernon was in the collective, he couldn’t leave.

It was only when you listed just how high maintenance Vernon was (he will only eat fish on Wednesdays or every third Saturday of the month, he likes to use a mixture of mouth washes and has specific measurements for said mixing and he will only eat cookies with even numbers of chocolate chips in them because odd numbers “encourage the world’s evils”) that Super Leader John decided that Vernon probably wasn’t suited to their collective and they’d actually quite prefer it if he never contacted them again.

So, Thursday had been a write off. And for most of Friday, Junhui had been in meetings with various higher ups that didn’t concern editors like yourself. But now most of the office had gone home and you were left with two manuscripts that had landed on your desk months ago, and that you’d fallen in love with as soon as you read them. They’re by unknown authors and aren’t the usual sort of thing that this company is used to publishing. All you can do is hope that Junhui likes them, if not, you’ve got yourself all worked up over the simple act of visiting his office, for nothing.

His office sits at the end of the large open plan work area, you can’t see in it as there’s a small corridor that leads into the actual office itself, but once you’re in there it’s like a dream. You’ve only been in a couple of times but each time you’ve been awestruck by the floor to ceiling bookshelves, full of books that you can tell he’s read from how well thumbed they are, and that don’t even look out of place in such a modern building. He even had special protective films installed on the windows so the sunlight coming through the glass building wouldn't harm any of his tomes, he is literally the man of your bookish dreams.

You take a deep breath, the excitement of getting to spend one on one time with Junhui mixing with the nerves of spending one on one time with him, and knock on the door.

You don’t get an answer, maybe he’s out? Maybe he’s gone home already? It is Friday after all and a man like him must have a wealth of options of things to occupy his time with.

You risk one more knock and if you get no answer, you’ll leave the manuscripts on his desk with a little note saying that you hope he likes them.

The second knock brings no response and so you slowly enter his office, the manuscripts bearing the brunt of your nerves as the paper slightly crumples from how hard you’re gripping them.

What you find though, makes your blood run cold.

“OH!” Junhui looks at you in horror, quickly hiding the cut crystal glass he’d been drinking from and trying to wipe his mouth, “I didn’t hear you knock _____! Sorry!”

You don’t reply. You can’t reply. You just stare at the man in the fine cut three piece suit, who would look as beautiful as ever if not for the red smears around his lips, that he’s desperately trying to wipe away with a handkerchief, with wide eyes.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, you’ve never felt fear like it. Every fibre of your being is telling you to flee, to get away from him and whatever he was just doing and yet you can’t.

It’s like you’re frozen to the spot, nothing but fear pumping through you but your legs are cemented to the spot halfway between his desk and your way out of this nightmare.

“W-was,” you swallow, trying to collect your thoughts, “was t-that…..in that glass…..was it?”

You don’t finish your sentence, the reality of what it was he was drinking makes you feel like you want to vomit and if what he was drinking is what you think it is, you need to get as far away from this freak as quick as you can.

You drop the manuscripts and run, ignoring Junhui shouting after you to come back and let him explain. Explain what exactly? Why he was sitting at his desk, quite happily sipping on a glass of fucking blood like it was a fine wine to be savoured? For the first couple of seconds, you wondered if it was tomato juice or a Bloody Mary but Bloody Marys don’t leave a stain on your skin like that. Because when Junhui tried to wipe away the residue on his mouth, it smeared and stained. It smeared and stained exactly like blood.

You know you’re going to have to answer the door. You’ve seen vampire movies, nobody just sees a vampire drinking blood and goes happily about their life afterwards. And from the way Junhui has been knocking at your apartment door for the past ten minutes, your life isn’t going on happily at all.

On your drive home, which you just hope you didn’t hit any old ladies or drive through any red lights whilst you weren’t paying any attention, you did toy with the idea that he’s just a weirdo. He’s just a weirdo that drinks blood and that might’ve been something you could deal with. But then you thought about it, really thought about it. The shimmer to his skin, the way he talks like he’s from another time, literally everything about him completely juxtaposes everything that the modern man is. And you know it’s far reaching and anyone would call you insane if you tried to tell them, but you just know it, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Wen Junhui is a vampire.

He’s been gently knocking on your door, desperately pleading with you to let him explain but you’re not an idiot. You know once you open that door, you’re dead. You’ve always had good veins, every nurse that’s ever taken a blood sample has commented how wonderful your veins are and so he won’t waste any time in feasting on you. You’re certain of it.

You did try to google what wards off a vampire, but the first one was sunlight and given he’s chosen to work in a glass building, even if his office does have protection for his books, sunlight doesn’t seem to be a problem. And what is more, you’re not religious so why the fuck would you just have a crucifix around the apartment?

Yes. You have garlic but it’s surely not enough to ward off a whole vampire, there’s probably some equation whereby each foot in height equals ten bulbs of garlic and you’ve only got two bulbs, it’s not going to be enough. And sadly for you, you’re clean out of wooden stakes. So do you just resign yourself to being a sacrificial lamb to the hot vampire who you work for? Perhaps you could fight him off? You did self defence classes for like three weeks and you once made Wonwoo’s nose bleed when you accidentally punched him fighting off a bee, you have some fighting skills.

“LET ME IN OR I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN.” Junhui gets tired of trying to be nice and shouts through the door instead.

Shit. He probably could too, why he hasn’t already is a mystery to you.

You gather your things, hoping they’ll at least ward him off for a few seconds and walk slowly to the door, your hands shaking and wondering how long it’ll take someone to find you. That’s if he even leaves any of you, maybe you’ll be so delicious that he’ll just eat every last bit of you. Do vampires even eat people? Or are they zombies? He’s surely not a zombie, not with that haircut.

“Stand back!” You’d have been proud of yourself for that if your voice hadn’t broken a little.

He doesn’t say anything but then what are you expecting him to even say? He’s going to kill you either way, all you’ve done by asking him to stand back is give him a little run up to the killing. Fucking idiot.

You open the door and hold your hands in the air, hoping your choice of repellents work at least a little.

But Junhui just stands there, eyes flitting between your hands and the traces of a smirk on his lips.

“What are you holding?”

“DON’T COME NEAR ME! I MEAN IT!!!!!” You waggle your hands at him frantically.

“_____,” he bites his lips to hide his smile, “the whole crucifix and garlic thing is bullshit.”

“SO, YOU ARE A VAMPIRE?!” You jump back, your arms still outstretched. Part of you was hoping he was going to say you’ve got an overactive imagination and he’s on some sort of detox that rich people do.  

“Can…” he looks around the empty hallway, “can we talk about this inside?”

Your arms fall to your sides, you didn’t prepare for this, you thought he’d pounce but he’s treating this more like a business meeting.

What’s the point in saying no? He’s a vampire, he won’t take no for an answer anyway, you’re lying to yourself if you think you have a single thread of authority in anything going on here.

“Ok, but only if you stay right by the door. I want a good six foot buffer zone,” you wave your arms around yourself, showing him exactly where he can’t go, “do not come in this buffer area.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says smoothly and walks into your apartment.

Damn for a man who drinks blood, he really does smell fantastic, it’s like cedar with a mix of rosemary. It’s otherworldly, like nothing you’ve ever smelt before. But now isn’t the time to falter, you have an actual vampire in your apartment, it really shouldn’t matter that he smells nice.

“What do you want?”

“What did you think those were going to do?” he gestures to what you’re holding.

“Well. Garlic,” you gesture to him like it’s a given that garlic would help you ward him off, “and,” you glance down at the book you’re holding, “I’m not religious so don’t have a crucifix or bible or anything, this is the closest I had.”

“You think Mr Tumnus is going to help you fight off a vampire?” he smirks.

“The Chronicles of Narnia are based on the Bible,” you falter a little when you realise how fucking ridiculous that sounds, “it might’ve helped.”

He has just admitted that he is a vampire though, so you haven’t really got time to worry about your choice in defensive books.

“If you’re going to kill me, I won’t make it easy. I've got lots of salt.”

“You’re going to make sure you’re perfectly seasoned?” He raises an intrigued brow at you.

Fuck. So, the whole salt thing is a myth then.

“Salt doesn’t work either?”

He shakes his head, fighting off a smile.

“Oh, well then I give in,” you throw yourself on the sofa, “if it helps, my emergency contact is down as Wonwoo because he’s my oldest friend in the city, but don’t call him tonight. He has puzzle club with the old men in the neighbourhood and he hates being disturbed. You think you’re scary, you haven’t been on the receiving end of one of his lectures.”

Why can’t you just shut your damn mouth? Always have to drone on and on when you’re in a panic, like bamboozling whoever is scaring you would stop them from hurting you.

“I don’t want to kill you ______,”

“Oh please, don’t use the whole I don’t want to do this, I need to do this. I’ve read Dracula.”

“No,” he sits on your coffee table, chuckling at the ancient copy of ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’ that you thought would help and very much ignoring your six foot buffer zone, “I don’t need to kill you either. I just need to know you won’t tell anyone.”

“Like anyone would believe me if I told them my boss was a vampire.”

“You seem quite calm considering you’ve just found out your boss is a vampire.” He narrows his eyes at you.

You’re not calm. You’ve no idea what you are. All you know is that you’re having to come to terms with the fact that not only do vampires appear to exist. But the boss you’ve been crushing on for god knows how long, is one.

“There’s not much I can do. You’ll either kill me or I’ll have to keep it secret. I’m not being sectioned because you’re a vampire.” You say indignantly, desperately trying to get some kind of upper hand here.

“I don’t want to kill you _____. I’ve said that. But I need to know you’ll keep this secret. If not, I have to move on and you’ll all lose your jobs.”

Oh great. So now the job of every person who works for one of the biggest publishers in the country, relies on your ability to keep a secret. Something which famously, you’re terrible at. You’ve told your mom every secret you’ve ever been told and Wonwoo seems to have some sort of sixth sense for when you’re hiding something. He’ll sniff it out before you even enter the office.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you sigh, leaning back into the sofa, “I can’t be responsible for everyone losing their jobs. But…..can I have those manuscripts back?”

“Why?” he smirks.

Shit. He’s already them. Or one of them at least.

“I didn’t know…..I wouldn’t have…..oh god,” you groan, ignoring the little laugh that comes from Junhui.

“You wouldn’t have brought a manuscript about a vampire to your boss that happens to be a vampire?”

“How did you read it already? It’s been like an hour?”

“I can read pretty quickly.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.

You should probably ask him to leave but you’re nothing if not nosey and if you’re never going to talk about this with him again, you want to ask him what life as a vampire is really like.

“Go on.” He smiles.

Can he? Oh fuck you hope he can’t read minds. He’s being very calm for someone that will have been subjected to some pretty explicit daydreams you’ve managed to conjure up, if he can read minds.

“Can you?” you ask quietly, “read minds?”

“No,” he snorts, “you just look like you have questions and to be honest, I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Thank god for that!” your eyes widen, “I mean not that I’ve been thinking of anything weird. You know, just worried about stranger danger I guess,” you trail off.

“Could I?” He gestures to the spot on the sofa next to you.

“Oh! Sure! Do you want a drink? Although….” What the hell do vampires drink? Thinking about it now, you’re not sure you ever have seen him drink, other than the blood he was drinking earlier.

“Any b negative?” you freeze on your way to the kitchen, “I was joking _____. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Mint tea?”

“Perfect.”

He stands up to take his jacket off and you desperately try not to think too much into the fact that you’re spending time in your apartment, with your hot boss who you’ve been pining after for ages. The fact he’s a vampire should make you want to run and bang on your neighbour’s door for help, but you feel oddly at ease with him. He doesn’t seem to mean any harm to you and the fact that if you told someone, he said his reaction would be to leave, rather than hurt you, shows he truly has no intentions of hurting you.

“Here you go,” you mumble as you hand him the steaming mug of tea and sit down on the sofa next to him.

“Thank you. You’ve quite the collection of books.” He smiles and nods over to your messy bookshelves which have far too many books than the old shelves should be holding.

“Hm,” you hum, swallowing your sip of tea, “I’m running out of space for them. I know everything is going digital and people say print is dying, but I don’t know. I just like having the physical copy, I like seeing what I’ve read and the characters I’ve known.”

You turn back to him, shocked to find a fond smile on his lips.

“What?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself. That’s what I’m always trying to hammer home to the execs, people want the physical copies of books. I understand the ease of digital things, but I still think there’s hope for published books. It isn’t the write off they think it is.”

“Can I….Do you mind if I……”

“Ask me whatever you want ______.”

Even the way he says your name makes your body tingle and heart leap. You shouldn’t still be having this reaction to him now you know he’s basically a monster.

“How old are you?”

“1941 years old.”

“That would mean you were born in….” you try to work it out, “85? Like the year 85?”

“If you’re using the current way of counting, yes. Although I was born hundreds of years before that system came into practice, before that we just used the eras of the current rulers and things.”

“So,” You cross your legs and get comfy on the sofa facing him, not realising just how softly he’s looking at you, “where were you born? Like does that country still exist?”

“It’s still China.” He nods, “But it’s very different from when I was born there. If you’d have told four year old Junhui he’d be moving around the earth in a metal box he’d have never believed you. Or known what metal was.”

You can’t imagine what that must be like. To have seen history with your own eyes.

“Did you always live in China? Or did you just recently move?”

“Recently to you and recently to me are two very different things ______.”

“Right,” you nod, a little embarrassed.

“I’ve lived all over the world,” you look up at him through your lashes, “I’ve seen the fall of Rome, I saw people say ‘Oh Shakespeare? He’s just a phase, he’ll be forgotten in a few years’ and I’ve seen some of the worst things mankind has ever done. You tend to have to move around every few decades or so, people grow old and when you don’t,” he smiles, though you note it doesn’t seem quite as happy as he wants it to, “you need to move on, so you’re not caught out.”

“That must be lonely.”

You sip your tea and wait for an answer, but when you look at him, he’s just staring at you with an emotion you can’t quite make out.

“No-one, not that many people have ever found out about me, but no-one has ever said anything like that. Or even thought about how it must feel to live like I do. It’s not a bad thing!” He rushes to say when he sees you looking a little worried you’d said the wrong thing.

You just nod and go back to your tea.

“Do you like the Chronicles of Narnia?” He averts his eyes to your well-read copy on the coffee table.

“It was my favourite books growing up. I think I've read them all a hundred times.”

“You know,” he sips his tea like he’s saying something totally normal, “it was me that came up with the name for Aslan.”

“What?! You’re just making that up!”

“I’m not!” he laughs, putting his tea down and picking up your book, “I was studying at Oxford University, I met Clive,” you scoff at him casually calling the author of your favourite childhood book Clive, like he’s friends with him, “at a local pub by chance. I told him I was a literary scholar, and he told me about the book he was writing and how the main hero was a lion and what he represented. But he was struggling with a name, so I suggested Aslan. I’d recently been in Turkey and Aslan is Turkish for Lion. Anyway, Clive loved it and so, Aslan was born.”

You blink at him. For someone that always has so much to say, you’re utterly speechless.

“What was he going to be called before that?”

“Mr Lion.”

You throw your head back in laughter much to the joy of the vampire sat beside you.

“H-he,” you hiccup out another laugh, “he was going to call him Mr Lion?”

“Well he did have form for it. Those poor beavers never got names did they? Just Mr and Mrs Beaver.”

You freeze. He’s actually telling the truth. You thought with a response like Mr Lion, he was just joking to calm your nerves.

“You’re being serious?”

“Yes! I named Aslan!”

“That’s fucking wild.” You shake your head.

“I have a first edition, if you wanted to see it?”

“Really? I’d love that! I love old books, I’ve never dreamt of owning any, or even seeing any, but I love the history of them. How they’ve been passed down and where they’ve been to get where they are now.”

If you could read Junhui’s mind you’d know that for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, he feels completely captivated by you. He’s had romances through his life and people he thought he loved, but he’d never told anyone else about his “condition”, and thankfully, he’d never been found out, except for a few close shaves.

Suddenly though, he’s in a situation where someone knows his secret and that someone just happens to be one of the most beautiful and endearing women he’s ever met in his long life on this earth. It’s selfish to indulge you, and he tells himself he’s only offering to show you because you seem so interested in it, but a part of him, quite a big part is selfishly doing this because he can’t help wanting to spend more time with you.

“I’ve collected quite a few interesting pieces over the years. I could pick you up tomorrow? That’s if you don’t mind coming to my place?”

“Oh.” You sit up, a little shocked. “I-I’d really like that. You don’t mind showing them to me?”

“_____, in this life I don’t get to show many people, or anyone, this part of my life. People would ask way too many questions about where I found these things. So it’d be nice to share them with someone, particularly someone who seems to hold the same reverence for these things as me.”

“Then, yes. I’d love to come to your place.”

“Perfect,” he finishes his tea and even heads to the kitchen to clean his mug, “I’ll pick you up at 10? Or is that too early?”

“No, that’s fine!” You say excitedly, showing him to your door.

“Great,” he pauses like he was going to hug you, but instead sends you a small smile and sort or taps your arm before he heads through your front door, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Bye.” You grin and wave him off.

As the door closes, your back hits it and you can’t help the huge grin on your face. You’re spending your Saturday with your hot boss, at his apartment no less. Fuck, finding out he’s an ancient vampire might’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

You’d slept pretty well for someone who’d just found out that her boss is a blood drinking vampire, but you put that down to the fact that in the excitement of the prospect of spending time with him, you’d somehow completely blocked out that he is, in fact, a vampire. And that just yesterday you walked into his office to find him casually drinking a glass full of blood.

But now you’re waiting for him to pick you up, having been ready to go for the past hour because your nerves were kicking your ass, and you can’t help but think how incredibly stupid you’ve been to get yourself into this situation. Sure, he didn’t seem like he meant you any harm. And surely if he was going to kill you, he’d have done it last night, it makes no sense to keep you alive and give you the opportunity to tell someone what you’d found out. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t been frantically pacing your apartment since seven this morning and wondering whether this was all some kind of trap.

This could all be a ruse to lure you to his place and keep you there. Perhaps that what vampires do, they don’t kill people straight away, they do it slowly. He might be intending to just keep you locked away somewhere in his home and feast on your blood whenever the mood takes him. And yet. You still felt oddly safe being near him last night, he didn’t speak to you with any threat, he didn’t seem to want to threaten you at all. And, if it had been a date or something, you’d have been pretty pleased with how easily you both got on, the chat flowed freely and he’d even made you laugh. Which is better than the last three first dates you’ve been on.

You check your watch, it’s only been a minute since you’d last checked it but other than picking the skin near your thumb nail, a habit your mom said would get you into trouble one day, you haven’t got much else to do. Five minutes. Just another five minutes and he’ll be knocking on your door, and you’ll be going to an actual vampire’s house. That is, if he’s on time. But you’re certain vampires generally are on time, they just have that vibe around them that they’d probably be punctual. Not that you’ve met many vampires. Although you have now met one, which considerably more than most people.

A gentle knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you take a deep breath before you stand up. You’re excited, you can’t deny that, but it’s like the fear you feel before a first date has quadrupled because you have absolutely no idea what to expect from this. And it isn’t even that you can call it a date, he’s just asked you if you want to see his book collection because he never gets to share it with anyone. It’s more just your boss showing you something he knows you’ll like, rather than a first date with the potential for it to lead anywhere.

“Hi,” he says softly when you open the door.

“Hello”

You’re not sure why, but you were expecting him to be wearing a suit. He just always is in a suit. You certainly weren’t expecting the 1941 year old vampire to be sweats but you can’t say you’re mad about it. He looks warm. Like he’d give really great hugs and keep you safe. Shit you need to stop this, he is literally a vampire.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” you close your door and walk along the corridor with him towards the elevator.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” you ponder, “a lot better than you’d think I would after yesterday.”

“Panic only set in this morning?” he smiles. How the hell can he read you so well? It’s not like you’ve spent a huge amount of time with him and yet this is the second time that it feels like he knows what you’re thinking.

“Sort of,” you admit, “you don’t scare me, not really. I think my imagination is scaring me a lot more than you.”

“I swear to you, I don’t mean you any harm. And,” he presses the button to the elevator, “you can ask me whatever you want to, I don’t mind. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

You just smile softly and nod, both of you entering the elevator and heading down to his car. You have questions. You have a lot of questions, but you’re probably better off waiting until you’re in private. The last thing you need is for any nosey neighbours to hear you ask where he gets his blood from and if he actually feeds off real people.

When Junhui parks in the underground parking lot of a large, luxurious apartment complex, you can’t help but feel a little stupid. You heard vampire and just presumed an old, pretty scary, mansion in the woods. Not modern luxurious apartments in the most affluent part of the city. This goes to show that all your over thinking is pointless, you’ve no real idea of what to expect from all of this other than your boss has shown you nothing but kindness since you found out this secret and you’ve spent the whole morning making assumptions about how he lives. 

Before you can even open the door, Junhui has rushed around from the driver’s side of the car and opened it for you. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“My mother taught me manners and I’ve never forgotten them.” 

“Your mother taught you to open a car door for people?” You challenge, hoping he sees you’re joking. 

“Well,” he grins, ushering you towards a private elevator for the penthouse complex, “no, she taught me to always let ladies walk through doors first. But I’ve adapted with the times.” 

“Is your mother still alive? Is she…..like you?” 

He pauses as he presses the button to close the door to the elevator and you worry that you’ve been too forward. Of course he doesn’t want to tell you everything about his life, he was probably just saying you could ask anything to make you less panicked. 

“She died a long long time ago now. She wasn’t like me, she never knew I became like this.” 

“I’m sorry,” you play with your sleeves, “I shouldn’t have asked something so personal.” 

You try to avert your eyes, taking a particular interest in the ceiling off the elevator but he interrupts your feeble attempts to ignore the awkwardness. 

“I said you could ask me anything you wanted. And I rarely get a chance to even acknowledge what I am, let alone speak about it. I have to lie and say my parents are back home, or they died, or whatever my current story is for the last few decades I’m in any one place.” 

“That must be tough, living so many different lives.” You nod. You struggle with dealing with one life sometimes, let alone multiple. 

“It is,” the elevator bongs and he ushers you into a large entryway, “but it’s amazing in parts. I’ve seen and done things that most people with even the wildest imagination couldn’t dream up.” 

“Like naming legendary lions?” You smile at him, handing him your coat and him hanging it up with his. 

“Exactly.” He says proudly. 

It’s only when you wait for him to put a door code in that you realise just how big this place is, just the entry way is bigger than most apartments and it’s decorated beautifully. There are a couple of modern works of art on the walls and on either side of the door are large ornate vases that are about half your height. The only other thing is an old school coat stand and shoes rack, no doubt something he bought on his travels. If you asked him about them he’d probably say something ridiculous like they belonged to an old european monarch or something. So instead you just keep your mouth shut and will yourself not to fall for the seemingly perfect vampire who’s invited you over to look at his book collection. 

“Shoes.” He looks down at your feet like your mother would if you forgot to take your shoes off in your grandma’s house. 

“Oh!” You quickly launch your sneakers off your feet, “Sorry! Do you have those like foot cover things?” 

“This is my home _____, not a museum. I just don't like shoes in the house. You don't need foot protectors and you don’t need a full hazmat suit either.” he smirks. 

“I was just checking,” you grumble, taking an active interest in the vase near the door rather than his smug face. 

He opens the door and gestures for you to go through first, his mom’s manners still at the forefront, and you slowly walk into the apartment. It’s huge, open plan and designed like something out of an architecture magazine. The walls are simple, white and clean and numerous works of art and prints line the walls. A glass staircase leads up to the second floor and you’re certain it continues up to another level after that. You’re not surprised it’s grand, he’s been alive thousands of years, he must have amassed a huge amount of wealth with that. But on the whole it just feels……..

“You don’t like it?” He must’ve noticed your slight disappointment. 

“It’s just very……normal? I-I mean not normal,” you panic, “I just mean, it looks how I thought it would before I knew what you were. Not that I think you’re any different now, I’m not prejudiced ....”

“______. Although I think this little ramble is very cute,” fuck your cheeks must be bright pink at that, “I understand what you mean. You were expecting something out of a horror movie? Or some dark dungeon where the sunlight couldn’t get me?” 

“I guess,” you shrug, “is that whole no sunlight thing not true then?” 

“None of those old myths are true. Apart from the stake through the heart, that would kill anyone. It’s pointless anyway, I can move quicker than most people can think. It’d take a miracle to actually be in the position to run a stake through a vampire's heart.”

“How quick?” You narrow your eyes at him but before you can even finish your sentence he’s gone, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

You spin around trying to find him, just to hear a cough coming from above you. You look up to find Junhui leaning against a grand piano positioned in front of the large windows on the floor above you, looking very pleased with himself. 

“H-how? What? I didn’t even see you move!!” 

In the blink of an eye he’s back beside you and again, you’d hardly seen it. It was like when you walk into a room and a spider or mouse quickly darts into a safe place. You know you’ve seen something but you can’t be sure. 

“So you can see why the whole stake through the heart is tricky.” 

“Damn, there’s not much point in me taking my stake out of my bag then.” you sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think you’d ever kill me.” He says happily, moving over to the kitchen. 

“Why?” You ask, following him and trying not to get distracted by the fact he seems to have every kitchen appliance of your dreams. 

“You just said you weren’t prejudiced. Like insulting a vampire for their stereotypes was the same as insulting any human for the stereotypes they may have about where they’re from or what they do. Nobody that kind would kill anyone.” 

“Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, “do you want a drink?” 

“It depends what it is.” 

Yes, you’re not prejudiced. But you’re entirely sure you could stomach seeing him drink blood without throwing up all over his kitchen. 

“Take your pick.” He says as he throws open the door to a fridge the size of your whole bedroom. Ok, maybe not that big but it is the biggest fridge you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Why do you have all this if you can’t have it?” You ask as you try to decide what the hell you want to drink. Which isn’t easy when he seems to be stocking more options than your local convenience store. 

“Who says I can’t have any of it?” 

“I saw you drinking blood Junhui…” Your eyes widen, “I mean Mr……”

“Junhui is fine.” He smiles fondly at you. “And you also saw me drinking mint tea.” 

“So you can eat and drink like a human? But you still need blood?” You settle on an orange juice and close the fridge door, trying not to look at how good he looks leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded. 

“Exactly,” he nods, “I can eat and drink whatever I want, but I need a little blood each day.” 

“Do you go to the toilet then?” 

Fuck. You didn’t mean to actually ask that. How fucking embarrasing. 

“Most people would be more interested in the blood,” he beams at you once he’s stopped laughing, “but yes, I go to the toilet.” 

“Good,” you nod, taking a sip of your orange juice and wishing your brain would develop at least some kind of filter, “and the blood? You don’t……I mean it’s none of my business if you do……but do you? Feed off people?” 

“No,” he says kindly, “There are only a handful of us left in the world. Luckily my friend Seungkwan works for one of the top hospitals in the country. We move together generally although we don't see each other much. He supplies us both with blood from the hospitals he works in. In the early days,” he sighs, gesturing for you to sit on one of the stools near him, “when I’d first been changed, I did feed on humans. I couldn’t help myself, I resented what I’d been turned into. I hated humans because I still longed to be one. But, after those first few years, I realised I couldn’t change what had happened to me. And a whole generation had passed, it wasn’t the fault of the humans any more than it was mine. And so I found new methods, now it’s simple to avoid feeding on humans.” 

“How did you become like this?” Now you’ve started, you want to know as much as possible about him. 

“When I was growing up, we didn’t really have legends of vampires. There were stories of the undead living off humans to survive but nothing of actual vampires. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was coming back from a night of drinking with my friends and before I knew what had happened, I was attacked. I think they meant to kill me, to feed off me completely, but something spooked them and they fled. I was unconscious for days because of the amount of blood they’d taken but there was enough of their DNA in me that I was fine. Better than fine, I felt unstoppable. But I hated what I’d become, I hated that they took my life from me.”

“How did you know you’d become a vampire though? If you’d never heard of them? You could’ve just gotten better?” 

“Seungkwan found me. If I’m honest I think it was him who stopped me being killed but he’d never admit that. He’s always hated vampires who use their power to cause fear or hurt people. He’d been hunting down the last truly evil vampire, the one who turned me, for years. It took him another century until he did finally stop him. But Seungkwan explained everything. And then he disappeared. If he hadn’t…..If he’d have guided me in those first few years. It might’ve saved the people I hurt.” 

“It’s not your fault you reacted like that. You can’t blame yourself for what you did because of something you never asked for. That’s not fair, Junhui.” 

He stares at you with an unreadable look on his face and you worry you’ve been too forward, acted too friendly or something when he is still your boss and you do barely know each other. It just feels so unjust though, for him to have never asked to be a vampire and it’s not like he could help the fact he needed blood to survive. It’s like holding it against a baby that they need milk or an adult human for needing water. He needed blood to survive. 

“Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you that.” 

“Actually,” he smiles, “I did. Thank you.” 

It feels like if you speak now, you’ll ruin the moment. But is it even a moment? You feel like it is, the way he’s staring into your soul feels like it is. But maybe this is just him, maybe he’s always been kind and reserved and you’re only just now getting to know him. 

“So,” you break eye contact, hoping that might stop your heart hammering, “there’s only two of you?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, his smile broadening, “there’s six vampires left in total. Me and Seungkwan tend to stick together. Joshua and Jeonghan keep to themselves mostly, they’re living somewhere in the south of France and spend their time lounging around their pool and sleeping with whoever they please, masking it all behind being wealthy art dealers. And then there’s Soonyoung and Pearl….” 

“Pearl?” You squint at him, confused by the sudden name change.

“Hm,” he hums, smiling to himself, “Soonyoung’s wife. She recently decided that a truly organic way of life is the way forward and now they live in a yurt somewhere in South America. Her name changes every few decades, she’s happy I suppose, and that’s all that matters. They went through a lot together, she got changed into a vampire by the same bastard who created me. It took Soonyoung years to convince her to change him. They’d been childhood sweet hearts and were only a week off getting married when she changed. She agreed eventually, but she hated doing it.” 

“It’s romantic,” 

“It’s barbaric,” He says harshly, “to willingly change the person you love, to sentence them to eternity. I understand why she did it but I don’t condone it. It’s like giving someone hundreds of life sentences.” 

“S-sorry.” You mumble, a little taken aback by how his attitude changed. 

You’re sorry you upset him but honestly, it doesn’t seem that bad. He’s seen all the wonders of the world, he’s lived through history and he seems to have done it all with people he would consider his friends. You’re struggling to see what could be so bad, other than the whole drinking blood thing. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes, “it’s just it seems great and everything but you’ve no idea how lonely it is. Sure you make friends but they either die or you have to move away before they realise they’re aging and you aren’t.”

“Did you never meet anyone you loved?” The idea leaves a sour taste on your tongue but you’re not expecting a man who is nearly two thousand years old to never have been in love. You’re only thirty and you’ve got more ex’s than you’d care to admit to. 

“I did,” he says somewhat shyly, “and it isn’t like I live like a nun, I sleep with people,” you try not to grimace at that admission, “but I always have to hold myself back, I can’t be myself around them and so it never lasts.” 

“You’ve never told any of them?” Why you feel a little smug about that, you don’t know. It’s not like he’s willingly told you, you literally walked in on him drinking blood. He could hardly deny it. 

“Nope,” he says standing up, “only you. Now, do you want to see all my cool stuff?” He says, raising his brows like he’s trying to entice you into something but all you’re trying to do is forget the ‘only you’ he tacked onto the end of his last answer, and tell yourself that it doesn’t make you special. 

“I’d love to” you recover. 

“Great, follow me.” 

“This is all,” you stare at the portrait of Junhui, standing beside who he tells you is DaVinci, “I don’t even know what to say.” 

You stare around the room in wonderment. The whole top floor of his penthouse is dedicated to everything he’s collected over the years. He had to put in about four sets of codes to open the door. Not that it looks peculiar from the outside, it looks like the top floor of any other fancy home would, perfectly painted walls, ornate furniture and large wooden doors. But it’s all just a facade, only one of the doors is real and behind the real one is treasures that you’d never thought you or anyone would ever see. 

So far he’s shown you Ernest Hemingway’s lost suitcase which he swears he had nothing to do with actually stealing, he just happened to be at a bar in Paris when the man who had stolen it was boasting about it and how that man had then very sadly lost it. When Junhui had tracked down Earnest, as he called him because obviously he seems to know everyone personally, Earnest had said he didn’t want it back, it added an air of mystery to his name that would help his name and works be remembered far more than just the literature he’d had published. And so he forgot Junhui had ever told him he’d found it and Junhui now holds one of the most looked for mysteries in modern literature. 

He has Shakespeare manuscripts, which apparently “Will” had given Junhui himself as thanks for helping him get home in time for his wife’s birthday. The way he spoke about him like he was just some friend that he’d lost touch with, chuckling to himself as he told you stories about how they’d meet up after performances and argue about which actor made the best Hamlet or whether the Globe was looking a bit shabby. 

Looking through his bookcases was like looking through history, like seeing every character you’ve ever loved and known in their earliest form. No editing or altering that may have happened over the years. Your bookcases when you get home will look pretty shit when you walk in and you’re confronted with your battered copies of all his treasures. 

“You’ve seen history. Like, you’ve seen words being created. Shakespeare invented almost 2000 words you know, or at least made them popular. And you were there, it’s just so……I don’t know…..big?” you look up at a bookshelf, eyes widening when you see what looks like an ancient, probably original written copy of Journey to The West. 

You’ve spent the past hour, when you weren’t listening to Junhui telling you the stories of his life, wandering round the large room like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. And it is the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. But Junhui, he’s seen a lot of great things. But he thinks the greatest thing he’s ever seen in his whole long life is you in this room. The way you get excited when you spot something that you can’t believe you’re seeing, or the way your eyes widen every time he mentions someone in history that always sounded more like another book character than a real person. 

He’d always thought you were beautiful, your whole aura lights up even the most boring of meetings and on the few occasions he’d spoken to you, he thought you were completely endearing. He did wonder whether there was something going on between you and Wonwoo. But then he saw Wonwoo put you in a headlock one day when you were arguing over who got the last piece of the brownie you’d bought, and that put the end to that idea. There was nothing romantic in that headlock. Or the way you bit his arm to get out of it. It didn’t matter anyway. Junhui made the decision long ago that he would never start a relationship with anyone, too many people get hurt. And he knew if he started something with you, it wouldn’t and couldn’t be a one time thing like so many of the flings he’s had over the past few centuries. 

But then you caught him drinking blood and when he’d found you (having found your address by hacking the HR records he knows he shouldn’t have been looking in), the way you’d tried to fight him only warmed his heart. He saw your books, he felt how kind and warm you were with someone that you should’ve been scared of and he couldn’t help himself. He told himself this was just because he knew you’d appreciate everything he’d collected over the centuries, and that he was just excited to show someone everything, that wasn’t Seungkwan. Who had as much interest in this stuff as a bollard. 

But he was playing with fire. And he knew it. 

“He invented most of the words he’s credited for.” 

He waits for you to realise what he’s said. And like clock work you freeze and whip around to face him. 

“You didn’t invent words,” you scoff, “did you?” you ask slowly.  

“Radiance.” 

You stare at him. He invented a whole fucking word and he says it like it’s nothing? Sure, people have invented new terms before when new things are invented. But radiance is just an everyday word. Everyone knows it and everyone uses it. 

“You invented the word radiance?” 

“Mm-mm,” he nods, “Will wanted a word in All’s Well That Ends Well to describe the beauty of someone, and I thought about the fact it brings light when you’re around someone you love. Anyway, radius is Latin for beam. But you’re radius sounds almost insulting. So I suggested radiance and all’s well that ends well.” He shrugs, laughing at his own joke. 

“Who were you thinking of when you invented it?” It’s none of your business, you don’t know why you’re asking, but you can’t help wanting to know and your mouth moves quicker than your head. 

“No-one in particular. I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who made me feel that way.”

“Didn’t?” You glance at his lips. 

“Yeah. Didn’t.” He glances down at yours. 

The air suddenly feels like you can’t breathe, there’s something drawing you to him even though you know you should be scared of him. But he must feel it too, he hasn’t moved away or broken the moment and yet neither of you move closer. It’s like you’re stuck in your place but wishing that he’d take the initiative and do what you want him to. You daren’t, you don’t know whether it would spark something fearsome in him. Although the idea of him biting you makes you weirdly excited but you try to push that thought to the back of your mind. 

The sound of the buzzer for his elevator breaks you out of the moment, both of you jumping at the sound and crashing back down to reality. 

“That’ll be the food,” he rushes off, “you take your time up here, I’ll get the food and plates. I’ll shout you when it’s all sorted.” 

“Ok.” you say quietly, watching his back as he rushes off out of the room. 

He felt it. You’re sure he did. But you don’t want to bring it up and ruin whatever this is and so you go back to pursuing his bookshelves. Every other find makes you more shocked than the last but you can’t shake what just happened and the moment you just shared. Because you are certain it was shared. It can’t have just been you that felt it. 

About ten minutes later and you hear him bellowing from two floors below you. Clearly he’s not just got it in him to be quick but also damn loud too. 

“That copy of To Kill A Mockingbird,” you start as you hop down the last two steps, feeling weirdly at home in this penthouse you’d never been in until today, “it’s not actually signed is it? Harper Lee barely signed any copies. If you were in Europe, how do you have a signed copy?” 

He beams at you from the sofa as you wander over, your stomach growling at the sight of the noodles he’d ordered. He’s set it up on the coffee table so you can both sit on the floor to eat just like you would at home. It’s pretty easy to forget he’s a blood drinking vampire when he acts like any other person you know. 

“I’ve lived in every country in the world at some point _____. And I met Harper when I was working at NASA. I went to Alabama to visit a friend, who happened to be friends with her and she was kind enough to sign a copy for me when I said I collected literature.” 

You gawk at him, the drink he’d poured you half way to your mouth. But to be perfectly honest, you’re just pleased you haven’t dropped it all over yourself. 

“N-nasa……..you met…..WHAT?!” 

He tries not to laugh at you, if he’s honest he just wants to squeeze your cheeks because you’re so fucking cute, but he doesn’t. 

“I was helping with the dimensions and initial plans for the rocket. Leonardo,” you huff at how he just references DaVinci like an old friend, “had a keen interest in aviation and he told me about some screw that could withstand high amounts of pressure, hundreds of years ago. I wrote to NASA, obviously not telling them where I'd learnt it, and they asked for my help for a month or so.” 

“I thought I was cool because I went to school with a girl who has ten million followers on Instagram but shit,” you lean back against his sofa staring at the noodles. 

“Hey, things change and what’s cool changes.” he shrugs, moving your noodles in front of you. 

“Oh please, I bet you don’t even know what Instagram is and working on a rocket that went to the moon beats followers every day of the week.” 

“I do know what it is, thank you very much,” he smiles as you both pick up your chopsticks, “and I will admit. The rocket is pretty cool.” 

“And yet you didn’t know lol when I put it in that email?” You challenge playfully. 

“Yeah, you did catch me off guard with that. How did you know?” 

“Oh!” Shit. You can’t tell him that a large part of your day is spent watching him. And another large part is spent fantasising about what you’d do if you ever found yourself alone with him, “I just happened to look over as you checked the email on your phone, that’s all.” 

You shove the noodles in your mouth as quickly as you can, trying to ignore how he seems to be watching you as you do, clearly not believing a word you said but he lets it go. 

“Did you see the Austen?” 

“Oh my god,” you wipe your mouth, hurriedly swallowing the food you were chewing, “yes! I can’t believe you have that! I never thought I’d see that, all three volumes of Pride and Prejudice. Well. First Impressions.” You pause, thinking about what you’ve just said, “if you’re about to tell me that it was you that made her change the name I think I will actually explode or something.” 

“I’m not,” he laughs, taking a sip of his drink, “but I did meet her once.”

“What was she like?” You ask excitedly.

“She was headstrong,” he nods fondly, “but. She was sad, mostly. She seemed like she never really got what she wanted in life, like she was living through the women in her stories. But she was kind and clever, and told Seungkwan to stop being so moody when his horse had eaten his hat, so she’ll always be a hero in my eyes.” 

“I’m pleased she was kind.” you sigh, “I always loved her books.I’m not sure I’d cope if I found out she was this awful human being that everyone hated,” 

“Do you know who was a weirdo?” 

“Who?” you ask, like he’s about to tell you some juicy gossip. 

“Mary Shelley. Have you ever heard the story of…….”

“That she lost her virginity on her mother’s grave. Yeah, I've heard it but it can’t be……” Your words trail off when you see his face. “NO?!” 

“Yep,” he nods, like he hates talking about it but loves it at the same time, “it’s true.”

“It wasn’t……you?” 

“NO!!” He looks horrified, “It was Percy! Thank god they married each other. Pair of odd bods.” he shivers like the memory of them disgusts him. 

“What the hell possessed them to do that?” You grimace. 

“Fuck knows but they were pretty proud of it. He was married at the time too. Which in my opinion just makes it all so much worse. Those two caused chaos.”

“You don’t have Frankenstein then?” You chuckle, going back to your noodles. 

“Oh I do, it’s a first edition, signed and everything. But it’s right up at the top where I don’t have to see it and be reminded of how much she scared me.” 

“A vampire? Scared of a normal woman?” 

“She was weird ok!” He laughs defensively. 

You eat pretty quietly after that. Both of you quite content in each other’s company. The rest of the day is spent looking through more of his collection, him showing you coins and little treasures from every country and era he’s lived through, even describing exactly what it was like when they finally finished the great wall of China after centuries of work. But you don’t remember much after he awkwardly asked you if you wanted to watch a film, neither of you wanting to say goodbye just yet, because you fell asleep. Not a care in the world for the fact that you’d managed to well and truly fluster Junhui, when your head landed on his shoulder, for the first time in almost two thousand years. 

The sound of pots and pans clanging around stir you awake from an absolutely bizarre dream in which you had to stop Wonwoo from fleeing with Jane Austen because she’d already said she’d marry you, even though gay marriage was hundreds of years off being made legal. It had ended pretty abruptly when presumably Junhui had moved a pan pretty heavily. But in your dream you’d pushed Wonwoo in front of a moving carriage because there was no well in hell he was taking your girlfriend. 

You’ve no idea how and when you made it into this overly comfortable bed but you admit you’re in no rush to get out of it. Even in your clothes you’d arrived in yesterday, it’s still the most comfortable you think you’ve ever been in your whole life. But the smell of bacon draws you from your need to stay in the cocoon you’ve made for yourself and you begrudgingly get out of the bed.

Before you can even start to worry about the fact you’re imposing on his hospitality, not that you’d intentionally fallen asleep on him and presumably, if he was uncomfortable, he’d have woken you up and said it was time for you to go, you find a set of folded clothes, a note and even some toiletries. 

Good morning! Or good night, depending on when you wake up. When you’re ready, I’ll cook us some breakfast. I’ve left some comfy clothes and some stuff to freshen up with (if you want to of course). Hope you slept well. 

Junhui

Fuck, you really want to not read too much into the fact he’s lending you clothes and he doesn’t seem mad that you’d taken up one of his spare rooms, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all giggly because he seems quite happy to have you here. 

You shower and brush your teeth with what he's left you, not surprised that he’s left you only the best products on the market and quickly dry your hair once you’re in his sweat pants and t-shirt, noting that the t-shirt reads ‘I love books and I tolerate you’, and rush down the stairs. You get the impression you could spend years with Junhui and still not know everything about his life but damn you’ve enjoyed getting to know him. And even when he asked about your life, he seemed genuinely interested, like what you were telling him wasn’t the same old story he’s probably heard a thousand times before. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings but you find the stairs pretty quickly and speed down them, slowing slightly at the bottom then he doesn’t think you’re over eager. You find him in the kitchen, where you presumed he was from the smell of bacon and clattering of pans, this time in shorts and hoody and once again looking like he’d give the best, most snuggly hugs. Not what most people would think of if they were spending time with a vampire but there’s just something about Junhui that seems to scream comfort to you. 

“Good morning.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous. 

“Hey!” He smiles, spinning round with the pan, “I hope I didn’t wake you. All these years on the planet and I’ve still not mastered cooking really. Many have tried but I’ve still burnt the bacon.” he frowns into the pan. 

“It’s fine. I like crispy bacon,” you grin at him, sitting on one of the stools when he tells you to sit down and it shouldn’t be long, “thank you for leaving these clothes out. And I’m sorry I fell asleep, I hope I’m not intruding. I will be out of your hair soon and I’ll wash these and bring them to work tomorrow.” You say happily, pouring yourself some apple juice he’d decanted into a jug.” 

“Are you in a rush to get home?” He winces when rather dark bacon lands on the plate in front of you.

“Not really,” you shrug, “but I’m sure you have plans and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“I do have plans,” he mumbles as he sits down next to you, “but I wondered if you wanted to come with me?” 

“Sure.” you say, trying to eat the bacon without him noticing just how hard it is to chew. 

“You don’t want to ask what we’re doing?” He jokes. 

Shit. Now he thinks you’re over eager. But do you even care? You like him, he seems to like you, why shouldn’t you show him that you enjoy spending time with him? 

“Sorry, sure, what were your plans?” 

“There’s an exhibition of ancient Chinese literature at one of the galleries, I was hoping to check it out.” 

“Compare your ancient Chinese literature with theirs?” You smirk knowingly. 

“Exactly. And we could get dinner? If you’re not bored of me of course.” 

“Junhui, I think if I found the hot vampire boss boring, then there’s no hope for me.” 

You go back to buttering a slice of toast before you even realise what you’ve just said but when you do, your horror stricken eyes meet his wide smile. 

“I-I didn’t mean…….wait no I’m not saying you’re not hot……oh god” you groan, hiding your head in your arm. 

“Hey, I’ll take it. It’s not every day a sexy older woman calls you hot.” 

You drop your toast. One because Junhui just called you sexy. But mainly because, what the hell does he mean ‘older woman'?! 

“Older woman? You’re almost two thousand years old!” 

“Yeah but when I was changed I was only 28. So technically you’re a cougar.” 

“That would suggest this is something more than friends?” 

He freezes, like he hadn’t thought this through but you just put that down to the fact that he’s not used to this. He said he’s only used to one night stands and things, maybe the beginnings of a relationship are odd to him after all this time. 

“You done?” He stands up, taking his plate over to the dishwasher. 

“I am,” you smile happily following him over and helping him clean up, “could we stop by my place so I can get changed?” 

“You don’t want to go out in my t-shirt?” he smirks at you, “I’m insulted _____.” 

You giggle, like joking and eating breakfast with Junhui is the most natural thing in the world. You could get used to this, and now you’ve made it clear that you like him, and he seems to like you too all you feel is excitement for what’s to come. The day passes in a blur of laughter and Junhui being very smug that some of the “ancient relics” were actually reprints that no-one has noticed, before you have dinner under the stars at an open top restaurant and he drops you home. Now having the courage to hug you, not just awkwardly pat your arm like he did two days prior. And you go to sleep full of happiness and excitement for this flourishing relationship. 

For the past month you’ve spent every weekend with Junhui. Even at the office you message each other and on a couple of occasions he’s eaten lunch with you and Wonwoo. They both discovered they have a shared interest in comic books and you started to worry that Junhui would kick you to the curb and decide Wonwoo was the one for him. 

Wonwoo nearly fell to his knees and proposed when he visited Junhui’s apartment one night after work and he saw he has every edition of his favourite series. Junhui hasn’t told him he’s a vampire and thankfully the comic books are in his TV room, so Wonwoo just thinks the top floor is more bedrooms and has no idea that Junhui is hoarding some of the world’s greatest treasures up there. You're certain Wonwoo genuinely wouldn't care if Junhui casually told him he was a vampire, he's the most laid back man you've ever met. It’d be a quick “cool, about those comic books" and he'd never mention it again. 

But up until you Junhui had never told anyone. And he only told you because he had to. So you don't want to push it. 

You did worry that you were spending too much time with him, that you were over staying your welcome whenever you went over to his place. But it was almost like he was actively finding reasons for you to stay and, most of the time, he was messaging you first and finding more and more reasons to talk to you. Not that you minded. You could spend every waking second of the day with him and never get bored. 

But there was one thing that was playing on your mind. You didn’t know what this all was. It felt like the beginnings of a relationship, at times it felt like it was a relationship, he would always make sure you’d eaten and wish you good morning or good night, you felt like you were going on dates. 

They definitely felt like dates. But then he’d never even held your hand or made any attempt to kiss you or anything. Though you’re certain he wants more, every time you find yourself saying goodbye to each other, he spends more time looking at your lips than he does looking you in the eye. It cannot just be friends. You can't have gotten it so wrong that he thinks this is just friendship. 

It’s annoying you but you’re trying to be understanding. There’s presumably so many different things he has to think about to even be around humans the way he is. He must always feel a constant urge to bite, to taste blood and you don’t want to make that worse for him. And so at the moment you’re content to just see where this goes, you love spending time with him and he seems to love spending time with you, what more do you even need right now? 

A message flashes up on your screen as you’re editing, the sight of Vernon’s name making your stomach drop.

Vernon: OH MY GOD WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN 

You: What are you talking about? I’ve told you Vernon, I’m not getting high with you 

Vernon: Not that. The book retreat!! I can’t believe you agreed to it, honestly your bosses seemed dubious but Junhui just told me!! Thank you for saying yes, me and my creative juices need this. Fuck three months in Peru!!!! Get packing bestie!!!!!!

You stare at your screen. What the fuck is he talking about? He’s high. He must be. Because there’s no way the company would allow that long an extension for him or his juices. And three months? Away from home? And what the hell is in Peru that’s going to make him write anymore than his creative trip to Thailand or Alaska. 

This whole thing seems like bullshit but the one thing that’s making it worse? “Junhui just told me”. Does he agree with this? He wants you gone for three months? But you were just sat daydreaming about the date he has planned for the weekend. He was going to take you to see some gardens that he’d found years ago that have the rarest flowers in Asia. And yet now you find out he’s shipping you off to Peru? 

This isn’t right. Before you can even re-read the messages again to make sure what you’ve read is right, you’re carried through the office on a wave of anger and hurt, and within seconds you’re knocking on the door to Junhui’s office. You don’t even wait for him to say come in, what’s the point, it’s not like you can find him doing anything worse than the last time walked into his office. 

You find him reading through a manuscript but he puts it down pretty quickly when he sees you. 

“Hey! I didn’t hear you knock, sorry I was miles away in this……”

“I knocked.” You interrupt, not liking him insinuating that you hadn’t. 

“I didn’t say you didn’t knock _____.” He frowns, he's never seen you pissed off. It doesn't suit and he doesn't know what he's done to cause it, but he hates it. 

“You’re sending me away?”

Junhui stands up, not having realised Vernon would open his big mouth already. 

“I’m not sending you. Vernon asked could you go with him, he said he needed you to keep him out of trouble.” 

“So you’re sending me away?” You press again. 

“_____ this is your job.” He sighs, walking around his desk and leaning against it in front of you. 

“He’s been on hundreds of writer’s retreats and I’ve never had to go then! Why do I have to go now? I’d be gone for three months! You’d be ok with that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be ok with that?” 

You stare at him, the only thing you feel is your heart cracking and your finger frantically picking the skin near your thumb nail, because at the moment, it’s the only thing reminding you that this isn’t all a nightmare. And sadly is your reality. 

“Because we’re…….we’re,” you want to say because we’re a couple but now you just feel fucking stupid for even letting yourself think that. 

“We’re friends _____. Friends can go three months without seeing each other.” 

“Friends? We call everything over the past month being friends?!” 

“Nothing’s happened between us _____. I’ve never given any inclination that it was more.” He says it kindly, too kindly. Like he’s rehearsed this or something. 

But all you feel is panic. You can’t have gotten this so wrong? You know what you felt and you know that he felt it too! You’ve seen him speak to multiple women in this office, he never talks to their fucking lips, he doesn’t even spend time with them more than he actually has to. 

But then has all this just been because you know about him? That you’re the only person who’s ever found out he’s a vampire and he’s felt like he had to be kind to you to make sure you didn’t tell anyone? He’s just been tolerating you because he didn’t want you to blow his secret. It cannot be that. You can't fake how happy he was when you were together. 

“That’s not true,” you say quietly, staring anywhere but at him, though maybe if you did you’d see the pain in his eyes, “I know what I feel Junhui. Has this all been a lie? You don’t even like spending time with me?” You look at him, his heart breaking when he sees tears welling in your eyes. 

“I do like spending time with you _____. Like I would any other friend. STOP DOING THAT!” He makes you jump when his voice suddenly raises and there’s an anger in it you didn’t think you’d ever hear from him. 

You glance down at where his eyes are fixed but all that’s there is your hand. You weren’t doing anything to warrant that outburst. 

“So you want me to go? For three months?” You ignore his anger and demand an answer. 

“I want you to do your job,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead, “he needs to get this novel finished and you’re going with him. End of discussion.” 

“You can’t just do that! You’d throw this away, you’d…….”

But before you can finish your sentence you feel like all the air has been knocked out of you as your back hits the office wall, Junhui painfully close to you caging you in. You say Junhui, this isn’t your Junhui, it’s not the man that two weeks ago tried to make you cupcakes and failed spectacularly. 

No, this Junhui could only be described as a monster. His face is so close to yours but you feel no warmth, his breath is like ice and when you focus on his face, your blood turns as cold as he is. His eyes are blood red, almost shimmering in their sockets, his skin pale and with fangs that send a wave of horror through your body. 

His breath is ragged and even though you try to wiggle out of his hold, whimpering slightly at how the man you thought you were falling for has turned into something from your nightmares, he stops you, his body rigid against yours like a tonne weight, not a normal man. 

“J-junhui, please,” you whimper, trying to push him off but he just stays staring at you like you’re his next victim, “you said you d-didn’t do this. This i-isn’t you Junhui.” 

“You don’t know who I am,” he spits, no care in his voice, not like there used to be, “I told you to stop fucking doing that, why can’t you listen?!” 

You glance down at your hand, every inch of your skin prickling and yet a numbness over takes you when you see what he's talking about. 

Blood. 

Your blood. 

Where you’d been frantically picking at the skin near your thumb, a habit your mom always said you should stop and now it’s going to be the thing that drives Junhui to do something he hasn’t done in centuries. You get the sudden urge to run, to bolt out of this office and never look back and yet it’s like your feet are cemented to the spot. It’s not like you could move anyway, he’s got you trapped. 

He’s got you trapped as blood trickles down your thumb and you get the impression that he’s not going to be able to hold back much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry softly, trying to wipe your thumb on your skirt, “I didn’t m-mean to. Please Junhui, this is me, it’s _____, you can’t do this. You haven't hurt anyone in years! You said you regretted ever hurting anyone!”

“But they,” he takes a deep breath, almost thriving off the scent of your fresh blood, causing you to whimper and try to cling to the wall, “didn’t walk in here demanding things and not doing as they were told.” 

The way he’s speaking, the way he’s leering at you, it’s like being in the worst horror film you’ve seen. Only normally when Wonwoo makes you watch those, you can cover your eyes and pretend you’re not there. But you are here. And you can’t get away from the monster in front of you. 

“I-I didn’t demand. I got it wrong, I was wrong. I’ll go to Peru. I’ll go wherever you want me to. Just please Junhui, let me go.” You plead, tears streaming and body shaking. 

“You’ve ruined everything you know,” he hisses with his head in your neck, his lips just millimeters away from him getting everything he needs and you never taking another breath, “I was happy. Or as happy as I could be and then you,” his teeth graze your skin, “you come barging in here and fuck my life up. And now you try to tell me this isn’t me?” his teeth stop, the tips of fangs weighing on your skin, “This is why you shouldn’t be here. I can’t be in a relationship, I can’t give you what you think you want, this is me _____. This is my reality the second I let you in too far and you suddenly hurt yourself or fall and graze your knee. This,” his teeth scrape down your skin as you sob and try to lean away from him, “is the reality of your life if you don’t fucking leave me alone.” 

You can’t even speak, your breathing is heavy, your body is quivering in fear. It would only take a second and he’d taste you, he’d kill you. 

“Get out, get out of the office. Out of the fucking building. Just don’t come back in before you leave with Vernon.” 

He turns away from you and your heart breaks. You caused this. He told you to stop and you didn’t. 

“I-I’m sorry Junhui, please………”

“GET OUT!!!”

You flinch and rush off out of the office. Ignoring the confused stares from your co-workers and how Wonwoo is already making his way over to you. You just grab your coat and bag and sprint out of the building not even able to decide if you’re more hurt by him dismissing the past month or relieved that you’ve managed to get away from him before he did something that he’d regret and you wouldn’t have survived. 

Junhui can’t concentrate. Even with heightened senses and rocket-like reflexes, he’s been reading the same manuscript for three days and not a single word is making any sense to him. He’s never felt like this, sure he’s probably felt like this but if he has, he doesn’t remember it. He’s had hundreds of people in his life die, it’s just the circle of life, people are born and people die. When his mother died, he was distraught but even that didn’t feel like this. She was old and it was her time and although it broke him, he could make sense of it. 

But he can’t make sense of what he’s feeling at the moment. 

It’s been three days since he told you to leave the office and not come back until you’d been away with Vernon. And for three days he’s felt pain like he’s never felt before. His chest aches and he hasn't eaten, even Seungkwan dropped by yesterday when Junhui hadn’t been to collect his usual supply of blood. Seungkwan was expecting a lot of things when he made it to Junhui’s apartment but his friend of almost two thousand years, crying and watching sad movies was definitely not one of them. He told him everything, poured his heart out and Seungkwan’s response? “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

But that’s easy for him to say, he seems to be able to have relationships for a few years and then carry on like nothing ever happened. Junhui couldn’t do that. Not with you. In the month you’d be in his life fully, not just as an employee, he’d fallen in love with you. He knew he had because he’d never felt like this in his life. He just wanted to be around you all the time, the sound of your laugh made even his cold heart warm and when you talked about what you loved, it just made him hope that one day, you’d look like that when you spoke about him too. 

A week ago he nearly kissed you. You’d been at his place, not even doing anything exciting, just sitting on his sofa, your feet tucked under his leg as you both sat reading. He’d noticed you had a habit of telling him the little excerpts of what you were reading that had made you laugh or meant something to you and, in his opinion, that was one of the most intimate things you could do. To want to share even the smallest of things that made you feel even the smallest emotion showed him just how much you cared about his opinion but also showing him that you want him to see what’s important to you, even if it’s the littlest of things. 

The sun setting behind you as you giggled quoting the line of your book, you just looked so radiant that it took everything in him to not throw caution to the wind and finally kiss you, just like he’d wanted to do when you were trying to fight him off with The Chronicles of Narnia. 

But that night served as a warning. He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let himself be tempted no matter how much he felt like he needed you. How would he go on for eternity when you’d gone? He wasn’t scared of stopping loving you when you grew old, he knew he’d love you no matter how old you got, you’d still be you. But what would happen to Junhui? Once he’d given you everything and he had to go on forever knowing his one true love would never be with him again. 

So when Vernon was moaning about writing retreats he saw an opportunity to get you away from him for a while. The idea hurt him, it is hurting him, but it would hurt more in the long run and it would give you a chance to meet someone else, to live your life without having to deal with everything that comes with him being a vampire. You deserved to live and to be happy and he knew at some point, he’d end up hurting you. 

Though he’s not sure any of that would even matter anymore, you’d surely never want to see him again even after you’ve come back in a few months time. The fear in your eyes when you saw the worst side of him will stay with him forever more, the tears and way you flinched away from him broke him. He’s not even sure why his reaction was so visceral. He can be around blood, over the centuries he’s perfected his self restraint meaning that he can be around even the worst injuries. But that one small tear on your skin triggered something in him that he hasn’t experienced in over a thousand years. Seungkwan said it was probably how the mixture of needing to send you away, the reality of sending you away and how the confusion he was feeling at loving someone, truly loving someone, was playing with his emotions. That one drop of blood was the straw that broke the camel’s back and the end result was him terrifying the last person on earth he’d want to hurt. 

You’d tried to call him. Though he’s no idea why. He’s no idea why you even said sorry to him before you ran out of his office. It was him who should’ve been apologising, not you.

A knock on his office door shakes him from his thoughts and for a few hopeful seconds he thinks it’s you, that you’ve resorted to barging into his office again just like last time because he’s ignoring your calls. But who is he kidding? You won’t want to be in the same room as him again. Not now. 

“Come in!” He didn’t think anyone was left in the office, let alone needing to speak to him. 

“What the fuck have you done to her?!” 

“Wonwoo? What? Done to who?” Junhui stands up and marches round his desk as Wonwoo storms into his office. 

“Oh come on, you know who. Last time I saw her she was running out of here, crying and fucking terrified! And now she won’t answer her phone, she won’t open her door. That isn’t _____!! What the fuck did you do?! I swear if you’ve hurt so much as a hair on her head, I’ll fucking kill you!!”

“I wouldn’t hurt her!” 

Wonwoo scoffs, so close to Junhui that he can feel his breath against his skin, fists clenched like he’s ready to fight. 

“Oh so it’s just a coincidence that she runs out of your office and now she won’t talk to anyone? You’ve done something. I know you have. I really thought you were better than this, all those fucking months she’s been hoping something would happen and you’ve broken her!!”

So you’d liked him longer than he even knew? Fuck that just makes him feel even worse. You liked him and even when you found out the worst secret you could, it still didn’t change your opinion on him. All it does is confirm you’re everything he thought you were and more, to not let even something like what’s wrong with him affect your opinion of him, just shows what a remarkable woman you are. He just hopes Wonwoo isn’t right. He hopes he hasn’t broken you. 

He racks his brain for how to get out of this but all he can think to do is tell the truth. It would mean telling someone else and someone else knowing his secret, another chance that his life as he knows it would come crashing down. But Wonwoo isn’t going to let this go and the last thing he needs is someone saying he in some way is a man who would harm a woman, or anyone for that matter. 

“Sit down.” 

“Fuck off. What did you do to my friend?!” 

“Wonwoo!! Sit. Down.” 

Wonwoo must sense some sort of danger in Junhui’s eyes because he actually does as he’s told and sits down. For once in his life. 

“I don’t know how to start.” Junhui sighs, hoping the ceiling might have some answers. 

“I don’t care where you start, just get to the part where you hurt _____ and then I can try and fix it.”

“When she came to show me the manuscripts that you’d mentioned in the meeting…..”

“That was ages ago,” Wonwoo interrupts angrily, “I want to know what’s happened now!”

“You will! Just listen to me! Please!” 

Wonwoo just glares, his arms folded and waiting to hear what any of this could have to do with what’s wrong with you. 

“When she came in, I didn’t hear her knocking. When she found me I was,” he sighs, knowing with every admission of what he is, he risks a little more of his safety, “I was drinking blood.” 

Wonwoo just stares at him and Junhui wonders if he actually said it out loud. It sounded like he said it outloud. But Junhui imagined a lot of reactions. Wonwoo just having a blank face was not one of them and it’s unsettling him to be honest. 

“Did you…..”

“I heard you,” Wonwoo booms with nothing but disdain, “what does that have to do with what happened three days ago?” 

“You’re not going to ask why I was drinking it?” 

“To be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck. I want to know what it has to do with _____.” 

“I’m a vampire.” He says bluntly. 

“Well I would hope so if you’re drinking blood. At least it means you’re not a weirdo.” 

Junhui just stares at him. How can one man be so indifferent to finding out that not only do vampires exist, his boss and new found friend is one? Junhui could only dream of being that easy going. You’d told him that Wonwoo was a chill guy. But there’s being a chill guy and then whatever the fuck Wonwoo is.

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What do you want me to say? I don’t care what you are, man, I just want to know what’s happened to my best friend!” 

“I said she needed to go with Vernon for three months to Peru.”

“As what? Punishment for her finding out? You only started hanging out after she found out, why has something happened now?”

“Fuck, it’s better starting from the beginning,” Junhui sighs, throwing himself on the sofa next to Wonwoo, “she ran off when she saw me and when I got to her place, she tried to fight me off with garlic and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.” Junhui smiles fondly at the memory. 

“That woman,” Wonwoo shakes his head with a look of either disdain or disbelief, possibly a mixture of both Junhui thinks, “she has no fight or flight skills. She did self defence for like two weeks and decided she’d just negotiate out of a dangerous situation and that fighting wasn’t for her.” 

Junhui can’t help but smile to himself, even through the pain. He can imagine you in the classes, deciding there and then that it wasn’t for you, even remembering how you’d tried to negotiate a safety buffer between the two of you when he’d first entered your apartment. Fuck he’s way too down bad for you. This is all too much. 

“Even after she found out, after the initial shock, she still managed to empathise with what it must be like, to be two thousand years old and everything that comes with it.” 

“Huh,” Wonwoo huffs, glaring out the corner of his eye. 

“What” Junhui frowns.  

“Two thousand, it’s just not that impressive,” he shrugs, “I thought you’d be older.”

Junhui blinks at him. If he’s honest he’s pretty fucking pissed that out of the two people he’s told, one had messed with his heart more than anyone ever has and the other has basically just said that he’s disappointing! 

“But that doesn’t explain what happened the other day, unless…….Did you try to bite her?!”

“No! I mean, fuck!” he wipes his face his hands, “I love her. I love her like I’ve never loved anyone but I can’t be with her, I can’t ruin her life and I can’t live for an eternity without her, when she’s gone. So I acted like we were just friends, even when she was trying to tell me it was more and that she couldn’t be away for three months. I thought hurting her now was better than hurting her more later on. But she kept picking her fucking thumb even when I told her to stop and she made it bleed and I lost control. For the first time in centuries I wanted to bite someone. I didn’t. But I wanted to. And she saw me how I never wanted her to, I was seconds away from biting her Wonwoo.” 

“But you didn’t?” He needs to check and Junhui gets that. 

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, “but I scared her, she was fucking trembling and pleading and still all I wanted to do was bite her.”

“If you love her, could you not just turn her into what you are?” 

“You think it’s that easy?” Junhui looks at Wonwoo incredulously, “I’d be taking away her life Wonwoo, I’d be sentencing her to a life never ending.” 

“But,” Wonwoo frowns, “surely if you have a life of eternity together then it’s not so bad. Plus you could turn me too, I’m a hoot!” 

For the first time in days, Junhui laughs a little. Not a lot. But a little is better than nothing. It passes too quickly though, the reality of what turning someone into a vampire actually means, stopping any small amount of joy he might feel even for the briefest moment. 

“It’s like murder Wonwoo. I haven’t fed off people since I was four hundred or so years old. I wouldn’t even know if I could stop once I’d started. I couldn’t cope with that, if I couldn’t help myself and I ended up losing her.” 

“So your solution was to send her away for three months? What was that even going to achieve Junhui?” 

“She might’ve met someone,” Junhui shrugs, not even believing what he’s saying. 

“You’ve met _____,” Wonwoo looks at him dubiously, “she isn’t the kind of person to just fall out of love with someone. She loves with her whole heart and she’s been wanting you for a lot longer than you know. If her finding out this,” he gestures his hands at Junhui, “didn’t scare her off, why would being away from you for three months do anything?” 

“It was the only thing I could think of. I can’t do it Wonwoo. To her or me.”

“Fucking idiot.” He scoffs and shakes his head. 

Junhui just wishes people would see what he’s trying to say, why the fuck does everyone think its so easy?! To just take the life out of someone?! 

“You know it’s not tha……….” But Wonwoo’s phone ringing cuts him off. 

“Hello?” 

Wonwoo’s face changes from indifference to horror and Junhui is immediately filled with a feeling of dread. Because if Wonwoo shows so much indifference when being confronted with an actual vampire, nothing good could’ve gotten that reaction from him. 

“Come on,” he rushes when he hangs up his phone and runs to the office door. 

“Why?” 

“It’s _____. Just hurry the fuck up, we need to get to the hospital now.”

To say your head is throbbing would be an understatement, it feels like someone’s using your head as a bass drum and you’re not even sure you can open your eyes. But the sound of someone repeatedly saying your name makes you panic, had you drunkenly called Wonwoo? Perhaps keeping your eyes closed would be the better option, you don’t need one of his lectures about how he wasn’t put on this earth to be your nurse maid. Something he refuses to listen to when he has a cold and you insist on giving him the same speech. 

You don’t even remember coming back from the store, you remember going to the store. You’d just finished packing for three long months in the depths of hell with Vernon and decided what the fuck, you don’t have anything to do for the two days until you have to leave. You were going to get drunk, watch Twilight and berate Bella for even going near a vampire, but then at least her vampire admitted his feelings. Perhaps if you find a nice werewolf, he might be more inclined to not try and gaslight you into thinking that you’re just friends. 

All you want to do is stew in your hangover and yet some prick just will not stop saying your name……..

“______ can you hear me?! Fuck, where the hell is that doctor?!” 

Doctor? For a hangover. That seems somewhat extreme, even for a drinking lightweight like you. 

“Wh…..” you try to speak but even trying makes your head hurt, “Jun……” What are you thinking of? Of course it’s not Junhui, that’s just your fantasies talking. 

“Oh that’s very nice,” 

You know that voice. You’d sadly know Wonwoo’s voice anywhere but you just can’t seem to come round enough to give him a piece of your mind. 

“_____? Can you hear me?” 

That is a voice you don’t recognise. What the hell has Wonwoo done? He’s surely not invited a group of people round to deal with your drunken ass?

“_____ try to open your eyes for me.” Well that seems to be easier said than done, because it feels like your eyelids are being weighed down by bricks. “Take it slow and open them,”

You don’t know who this demanding ass is but can he not see you’re trying to open your eyes?! Fucking bossy. God knows where Wonwoo has found him but he can damn well leave your apartment as soon as you can hurl yourself out of bed. 

You manage to open them, the lights far brighter than you remember your bedroom lights being. And in fact you don’t remember your ceiling looking like the one you’re blinking into focus at all. 

A massive head looms over you and you flinch, the last face you had so close was that of a monster that up until a few days ago you’d have sworn you loved. Though you’re still fairly certain you do. Hence the need to drink and shout at Bella Swan to get as far away from Edward as possible. 

“Can you hear me?” 

Why is this man treating you like you’re an idiot? 

“Obviously.” You rasp and hear Wonwoo snort. But when you try to move your head and glare at him, it feels like you’ve been surgically attached to whatever you’re lying on. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I’m not twelve,” you croak out, your voice sounding much weaker than you remember. 

To his credit, the man looming over you chuckles, but holds his hand up again. 

“I’m a doctor. You’ve been unconscious for two days, could you help me out and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” 

Unconscious?! And for two days?! Fuck you need to find Vernon, you need to catch your flight. Or maybe you have caught your flight, perhaps Vernon had finally persuaded you to get high with him and now you’ve embarrassingly over done it and this nice Peruvian doctor is trying to help you. But then why would Wonwoo be here? If they’ve made him come and get you all the way from Peru, you’ll never here the fucking end of it. 

“Three.” 

“Good. I’m just going to shine a light in your eye, if you could follow my finger for me?” 

You do as he says, hoping the quicker he’s done, the quicker you can find out what the hell happened. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“I went to the convenience store down the street and now I’m here. Wherever here is.” You say slowly, barely even hearing yourself from how hoarse your voice is.

“Ok,” he nods, looking you over, “we’ve done scans and we don’t think there’s any lasting damage. We were a little worried about your hearing but clearly, that’s fine. We need to keep you in for a couple more days and then you’ll need constant supervision for a week or so after that. But if you have no problems whilst you’re still here, I’ll be happy to discharge you in two days..” 

“What happened though?” You try to sit up, but note once again that you can’t.

“Oh,” the doctor leans towards you, “you have a neck brace on, as I say you don’t have any lasting damage and no broken bones so if you can promise to make no sudden movements, I can take that off.”

“Take it off please.” You can’t stand feeling like you’re trapped. 

“No problem,” he gently undoes it, “do you want the bed up a little?” 

“Please,” 

He presses the button on your bed and you slowly rise. But it’s as you’re edging further up, the room coming into view, you feel like someone's knocked all the air out of your lungs and you’d actually rather be lowered back down again. The last person you need to see is him. Dealing with Wonwoo will be bad enough. 

“Do I have to sit up?” you try to ignore the two men sitting looking panicked, “I think actually I’d be better fully reclined,” you try to reach for the button but your arm feels like lead and you just wince, “don’t you think I’d be better lying down? Perhaps some sedatives to knock me out again? My head feels like it’s been hit by a bus.” 

“It was a car.” Wonwoo says as he marches over to you, looking more pissed than you’ve ever seen him, “Don’t you ever fucking worry me like that again!” 

He launches himself around you, your whole body aching from the impact of it and all you can do is pat his back gently, never having had a hug from Wonwoo. Apart from when his childhood cat died but he’d insisted that wasn’t a hug, it was just he needed a little help standing up. 

“This is weird.” you mumble, still awkwardly patting his back. 

“I don’t care. I thought you were dead, you moron.” 

“Charming.” It's only then though that you realise what he said, “wait, I was hit by a car? I wasn’t drunk?”

“Why would you be drunk?” He pulls back, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“I was going to the convenience store. I was going to watch a film and get drunk,” 

“Very classy.” He smirks, perching on the side of your bed. “You must’ve been on your way there though, you didn’t have anything with you as far as the paramedics were aware. The guy was speeding, the cops have arrested him but you don’t have to worry about that now. We came straight here when the emergency room called.”

“We?” 

“Er,” Wonwoo stands up and shows you that the other man sitting in the corner of the room wasn’t a figment of your imagination. “Yeah, I was in Junhui’s office when I got the call. We both came straight here.” 

“Why are you here?” You try to say it like his presence doesn’t bother you, like the last time you’d seen him hadn’t broken your heart. 

“I wanted to check if you were ok.” 

Hearing his voice makes you feel like it’s repairing a little of your broken body, just by how much comfort it brings you. But he said you were wrong, that this was all one sided and so you will yourself to stay strong. 

“Well I am. You can go now.” 

“_____.” Wonwoo says softly, “he’s not even been home since we got here two days ago. Even when I went to change and shower at home, he stayed with you.”

“I don’t care Wonwoo. You wouldn’t get it.”

“I know he’s a vampire.” He says bluntly.

You stare at him, your head now not only throbbing, but spinning. 

“H-how? I mean,” you panic remembering the doctor who definitely shouldn’t be hearing this, “h-he doesn’t mean vampire. He’s not well, he’s a bit odd really, he just makes things up for……..”

“You don’t have to cover for him or Junhui. I’m Seungkwan.” He offers you his hand to shake. 

And you do shake his hand, not that you can speak, your expression is more like a fish than anything else. Your mouth opening and closing with no clue of what to say now you’re confronted with yet another vampire. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Good.” You say stupidly, your brain really not firing on all cylinders, and thankfully Seungkwan just chuckles and takes a seat next to Junhui. 

“How do you know he's a vampire?” You rush to ask. 

“I went to ask……”

“Demand.” Junhui interrupts, smirking a little at the glare Wonwoo sends him. 

“I went to ask what the hell had happened to you. He was the last one who’d seen you and you looked so upset when you left the office that day. And you’re so fucking stubborn, there’s no way you didn’t hear me banging on your door.” He scolds you. 

“I wanted some alone time,” you sniff, “am I not allowed that?” 

“You don’t have to cover for me. They both know what happened, how I lost control.” Junhui interrupts. 

“I don’t care about you losing control. And I don’t want you here. I have enough friends, I don’t need another one.” The recollection of him telling you that this whole thing had been nothing more than friendship still leaves a sting in your heart and him being here just makes you feel fucking stupid all over again. 

“_____ please,”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Friends can go three months without seeing each other,” you try to mimic his voice even though yours is still croaky, “why even bother coming to the hospital?” 

“Because I thought I’d lost you!” He stands up, voice pleading and tears threatening to fall. 

“Have I shown you my espresso machine in my office Wonwoo?” Seungkwan gets up from his seat quickly. 

“Er,” Wonwoo looks between you and Junhui, “no! But I’d love to see it! I love coffee!”

“Don’t you dare!” You try to shout after him as they both rush to the door, “Wonwoo come back here! You can’t just leave me like this!” 

But it’s no use. They’ve gone. So much for caring about you, if they know how he lost control then it’s pretty shitty behaviour to leave your bruised body in his care. Though you’re not scared of him, not really. He couldn’t help his reaction to the blood and even though, yes you were terrified when you got home, that subsided pretty quickly. The only thing you really felt was embarrassed that he clearly didn’t feel the same as you. That you’d thought it safe that you were both on the same page and instead he just fobbed you off with that friends bullshit. 

“I won’t hurt you.” 

“Not physically maybe.” You try to avoid looking at him. “I’m alive. You can ease whatever guilty conscience you might’ve had and go home.” 

“I’m sorry for what happened.”

You just hum and nod, not looking at him and sniffling as tears start to cascade slowly down your cheeks. 

“I’m not normally like that around blood, I can normally control myself.” 

“So this is somehow my blood’s fault?!” 

“What? No! I was just trying to say that doesn’t normally happen, I’m not a……threat….like that, I guess.” 

“I never thought you were. And I still don’t. So you can go. Tell Vernon I’ll get the first flight I can.” 

“I’ve already sent someone else with him, not that he really needs anyone,”

“Right,” you scoff, “now I’ll be no trouble from my death bed, he conveniently doesn’t need anyone to babysit him.” You try to fold your arms but everything aches, which just makes you want to cry even more. 

“I hate seeing you cry.” He says it before he can even stop himself, you can tell that much from the way he slightly panics that he’s said it. He’s always so certain in what he says, something you suppose comes from years of simply being alive and knowledge that comes with that.  

“I’m trying not to.” You sniffle, trying to remain stoic but failing miserably. 

This feels like the worst break up you’ve ever been through and yet it’s completely one sided according to him, just a friendship that technically doesn’t have to end. But you couldn’t keep spending time with him, every second you’ve already spent with him has taken a little of your heart as the clock ticked by. It would just hurt too much. You know it would. 

“Please just go Junhui. I feel humiliated enough as it is and now I’ve literally been hit by a car, I don’t think I could get any more pathetic.” You pick at a stray piece of cotton on the blanket covering you, hoping he’ll just go quietly. 

“I can’t,” he looks almost sheepish and you narrow your eyes at him, “you’re staying at my place for the week you need to be supervised.” 

“WHAT?!” You try to sit up but your woozy head stops you and before you know it Junhui has you in his arms and he’s making sure you settle back on the bed. “You can’t,” you try to get your breath because somehow moving even the smallest amount has winded you, “you can’t just decide that.”

“I didn’t. Not on my own anyway. I mean, I suggested it and Seungkwan and Wonwoo agreed.” 

“Oh well you should’ve said that sooner! You’ll let me know who I need to vote for in the next election and how you’d like me to have my hair cut won’t you! Chauvinistic shit heads.” You huff. 

He scowls at you but you don’t care. How dare they just make decisions for you! 

“Wonwoo says that Mingyu?” he checks the name of Wonwoo’s roommate with you, you begrudgingly nodding, “has taken up DJing so you couldn’t go there, him blasting music is hardly going to help a head injury. All your other friends, he said you’d hate staying with. And I’m told,” he smirks a little, “that you’d throw a fit if we told you that you had to go and stay with your parents.”

“No, I'm not having them fussing over me. Once they had me, they’d never let me leave. I love them but they would hyperventilate at the idea of having their baby back home, as they’d say. No.” You shake your head adamantly, ignoring the way it hurts, “I can’t go there.” 

“Then sadly, the only option is my place.” 

“Sadly? Fuck,” you huff sadly, “just let me go home. I’ll call Wonwoo if there’s any problems.” 

“No,” he rushes to correct you, “I didn’t mean sadly for me. I meant for you. It was my idea for you to come to my place, even before Wonwoo gave us other options.” 

“But you’ll be at work anyway. I may as well just go home. And I don’t want to be around you.”

You ignore the way his face drops at that. 

“I swear I don’t usually lose control like that _____!” 

“I don’t care if you show your fangs or threaten to bite me, I don’t give a fuck about that. I like you Junhui,” there’s no sense of beating about the bush, not in the circumstances, “and I think you know I do. And I get that you don’t see me as more than a friend but I don’t think I can be around you knowing that this whole thing has been so one sided. I was certain, so certain you felt the same and I feel like an idiot.” Your voice gets quieter as you trail off, your stomach in knots of embarrassment. 

Junhui just wants to shake you and tell you that you’re like no woman he’s ever met, that he thinks, no he knows, you’re the love of his life. It’s breaking him that you think he doesn’t feel the same as you, but it’s the safest option for both of you. He knows it is. 

“We don’t really have an option. You need someone to watch you, I’ve already told the office I won’t be in and I’ll stay out of your way if you want. I’ll give you a bell or something to ring in emergencies but other than that, I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Or I could just go home.” You press again. 

“Seungkwan won’t discharge you if he thinks you’ll be on your own. So unless you want to stay in the hospital, where I’ll be staying anyway if you’re here,” he says sternly, “then you’re staying at my place.” 

“Fucking ridiculous.” You turn away and miss Junhui’s little smile when he realises you’ve given up the fight and he’ll be able to make sure you’re safe and cared for. Much to your disgust.

You knew you could be stubborn. In fact you were certain there were few people in this world more stubborn than you. But it turns out there is someone much more stubborn than you. Junhui. Because no matter how much you ignored him and no matter how much you pleaded with Wonwoo and even Seungkwan, who you didn’t even know, to come and stay at your place, then you wouldn’t need to go to Junhui’s, he still refused to leave your bedside. Even when he had to use the bathroom, he used the one supplied in your private room (the perks of knowing one of the top doctors in the hospital is a vampire) and whenever it came to food, he’d already ordered something to be delivered to the hospital. 

Wonwoo would turn up around the time the food had been delivered and you all ate together like one big, slightly dysfunctional family. Junhui would try to talk to you, you’d insist on talking passively aggressively through Wonwoo who would then try and ignore you, and Seungkwan would simply sit and enjoy the drama of it all. 

But now you’re two days into your stay at Junhui’s penthouse and your resolve is crumbling along with your heart. Because he truly is the most caring man you’ve ever met. Each morning before you wake up he creeps into your room and leaves your pain medication and a glass of water by your bed, makes sure you’ve got clean perfectly folded clothes to put on, takes your worn clothes and puts them in the laundry and he even brushed and dried your hair when it was too much for you to do. Even though you’d declared to him that you didn’t want his help and you’d happily got to bed with wet hair, he refused to leave the room until he knew it was done and you had no risk of catching a cold by going to bed with your hair wet. 

He told you he’d stay out of your way and it seems he meant it. Because after he’s made sure you have everything you need and you’re safe, he heads to his home office and you don’t see him again until it’s time for your next meal or round of medication. 

Which you guess is what you wanted. You told him you wanted nothing to do with him. But he’s so close and you find yourself pining for his attention, that you know he’d willingly give you if you hadn’t repeatedly told him you didn’t want him near you. It’s like there’s an invisible string between you, that you know isn’t broken, it’s holding on by a thread but it's not broken, and that’s what's making it so hard for you now. 

By your third day at his apartment, you decide to swallow your pride and head to find him. You’re allowed to get out of bed, you’re not ill, but you just can’t do anything strenuous. Although, maybe putting your bruised ego to the side for the sake of being near the man you love would be classed as doing something somewhat strenuous. 

You wander down the stairs, smiling at the slightly messy kitchen where he’d been trying to make you eggs this morning and move towards his office rehearsing what you’re going to say. Perhaps you could say you need something to read? But that won’t work, he’d left a pile of books by your bed along with his iPad in case there was anything you wanted to watch on it. He’d literally thought of everything you might need during your stay, proving once again that he’s nothing like the monster you saw the last time that you were in his actual office at work.  

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise you’ve been standing in his office doorway for a good thirty seconds until his worried voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Is everything ok?” He panics, you never having actively sought him out in the three days you’ve been here. 

“Er, yeah. I’m….” he looks you over like he’s worried you’re in pain or something, “I’m lonely?”

“Oh,” he stands up straight, looking round for his phone, “do you want me to call Wonwoo? Or someone else?” 

Fuck you feel horrible. You’ve made it so clear you don’t want him near you that now he doesn’t even think you would possibly mean that you want to spend time with him. 

“No,” you shake your head, your voice quiet, “I could’ve just rung him myself. I wondered…..well I wondered if you wanted to watch a movie or something? Of course if you’re busy it’s fine.”

“I’d er,” he scratches his neck, “I’d like that. But before that……something came in yesterday that I had been meaning to show you. I had it shipped from my storage unit in Europe before we…..well before everything happened. I didn’t show you yesterday because I didn’t want to overstep but now you’re here, I’d really like to show you.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s upstairs. I could show you now?” He asks softly, like he doesn’t want to make a mistake and scare you off. 

You just nod and follow him quietly up the stairs. In the time you’ve spent together you’d never really had a quiet moment, from the second he entered your world it was like you both wanted to tell each other everything about your lives, no matter how big or small it was. And now there’s a void and you still don’t truly understand what caused it. One second it was the fine and the next he was sending you away. 

He punches the codes in and you feel a warm feeling washes over, like being back in this room full of treasures somehow feels like home. It isn’t even the artefacts and tomes that make you feel that way, it’s being surrounded by Junhui’s life, everything that he treasures, just makes you feel closer to him than you could ever dream to be. 

He leads you over to the large table in the centre of the room, papers scattered over it but a large metal box and book stand catch your eye. 

“Please,” he gestures to the chair next to the one he’s just sat in, “sit down.” 

“What is it?” You stare at the metal box as you sit next to him, not noticing how Junhui moves his chair just a little closer to yours. 

“I’ve had these for about nine hundred years, it took me centuries to track them down but I finally did. I don’t look at them often because I don’t want to risk anything happening to them. But I wanted you to see them, she,” he smiles at the box, “she reminds me of you a little.” 

“Who?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You’ll see.” he smiles softly. 

He opens the large metal box and you peer inside. You were expecting something large or impressive from the size of the box, maybe even a small bust of whoever it is that reminds him of you. But it’s just papers. Well. Parchments, ancient ones, but parchments none the less. 

“Parcements?” You ask, confused how “she” can be on parchment paper. 

“Have you ever heard of Sappho?” He smiles at the parchments as he gently takes them out of the box and places them on the book stand. 

You rack your brain but short of a few short mentions at university, you really couldn’t say you’d heard of her. 

“Vaguely,” you shake your head, marvelling at how old the pieces look in front of you, “but not really.” 

He just nods, sending you another gentle smile and looks at the parchments you’re already lost in. 

“She was a poet in Ancient Greece, hardly any of her writing survives, there’s probably about a hundred museums that would shoot me to get hold of these,” he chuckles, “but I always found her to be the most fascinating of all the ancient writers or poets.” 

“Why?” You frown, wondering how she can be so much better than any of the ancient greats everyone in the world has heard of. 

“Well, she’s a woman for one. Which in those times was unheard of for great poets or writers. But,” he sighs, leaning back in his seat, watching you and not looking at one of his most priced possessions. “She didn’t rely on myths or legends for her work. She lived in the real world, she wrote about love and feelings and what it was like to be passionately in love. By all accounts she was one of the strongest, most determined women of her time too.”

You stare at the parchment, you can’t read it, the writing is completely foreign to you but that doesn’t matter. The writing in front of you was by a woman in Ancient Greece. This parchment predates the whole modern era. Junhui had shown you a lot of things that would be considered old by anyone’s standards but this? Well this is on a completely different level to anything you could’ve ever dreamed of seeing with your own eyes. 

“But?” You turn to him, dragging your eyes away from Sappho’s writing, “Why does she remind you of me?” 

He doesn’t look at you, he now takes your place in staring at the parchment. 

“She broke the mold. She lived a life of love and without prejudice. You know,” he smiles sadly, “she was married to a man who she loved with her whole heart and yet still explored the idea of being attracted to women in her poems. I’m not saying you are obviously, not that it’d matter if you were” he corrects himself, “but she didn’t hold prejudice against those who were attracted to the same sex. She didn’t hold prejudice against anyone from what I’m told, she was accepting and understanding. For a woman to be so forward thinking and to be heard was so underheard of,” he shakes his head completely lost in his own thoughts, “I guess you sort of reminded me of that. You found out about me, most people would have called me a freak or monster, and you were so accepting, so ready to give me a chance and see past what I am. Even in the hospital, although I’d already asked for these to be shipped, I don’t even think you realised you did it but even after I treated you so terribly, you still tried to cover for me when Wonwoo just blurted out that I’m a vampire.” 

“Thank……” But you don’t get a chance to finish, it seems Junhui is so lost in thoughts that his subconscious is free flowing and nowhere near stopping. 

“And if anything,” he smiles sadly as Sappho’s lost poems, “you remind me even more of her now. These poems, they’re about love. About how you feel when you’re in love, how your heart races, how you feel like you’re almost falling ill with something when you’re around the person you love so violently that your heart hurts. She celebrated love.” He nods to himself, “And she was brave enough to celebrate love. In all forms. No matter who it was. And that’s what you did, that day in my office when I tried to send you away. You were brave enough, just like Sappho, to stand there and tell me I was wrong and that you knew it was something way stronger than friendship.” A stray tear falls down his cheek as you desperately try to keep your composure, “You’re just like her. You’re strong and you’re a trailblazer who I’ve no doubt could run that company if they’d just let you. But you’re caring, you’re so willing to love, and love fully that you stood there in a room full of coldness and told a vampire that he was wrong to dismiss what was happening as friendship.” 

Your heart is in your throat, feeling just how he’s just told you Sappho felt about love. 

“A-are,” you swallow, trying to blink away tears, “are you saying I was right? That it wasn’t one sided?” 

“I’ve lived almost two thousand years on this earth _____,” his eyes slowly find yours, “and I never felt this pull to someone. The need to be around someone all the time. I’ve loved people,” he nods, choosing to be honest, “but I’ve never felt like this. I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was saving you by sending you away. But all I was doing was being fucking selfish.” 

“What do you mean?” You frown, wanting to hold his hand but choosing to stay still, you don’t want to unsettle him further. 

“I told myself it was for you. Because I’m a danger to you. But me denying my feelings was the only thing that put you in danger. Seungkwan thinks that’s what caused me to turn on you,” he clarifies, “the mixture of feelings I’d never had before and then that one drop of blood tipped it over the edge.”

“But how does that make you selfish?” 

“If we did this. If we had a relationship. You’d grow old, it’s just the way the world is,” he shrugs, “and I don’t doubt I’d love you till your dying breath. I’d want you till your dying breath no matter how old you got. But what do I do then? When you’ve gone? I’d have to live for the rest of eternity knowing that I’d never see you again. Even if afterlives exist, I never die, I’d never see you there. I couldn’t cope with that _____. I couldn’t live knowing that I’d known the love of my life but only had her for a fraction of it.” 

Your tears fall freely, his admission both fixing and breaking your heart all over again. He loves you, just as much as you love him. Or probably more. You’ve only lived thirty years and never left like this, he’s lived for thousands and says the same thing. Something you can’t quite get your head around but makes you feel more loved than you ever have. You know what you want to say, you want to say that he’s being ridiculous and he could simply change you. Which you know is reckless and ill thought out but you want nothing more than to spend an eternity with him. 

“Does it not hurt more to throw it away when you know you have at least a chance to be with someone you love, even for a short time? If you walked away from this now, you’d always have what ifs, for the rest of time. If you gave us a chance, you’d have memories of the happy times at least? Surely that’s better?” 

He stares at you, eyes shining from tears. 

“I can’t throw it away now.” He tries to take a deep breath in a bid to stop his tears, “Even if you told me to fuck off, I don’t think I could. When Wonwoo got that phone call. I couldn’t cope, I couldn't leave you. I couldn’t lose you without you knowing that I love you with my whole heart. And when you came round all I could think about was how I didn’t want to waste a single second of your life on trying to push you away and ignore what you were brave enough to say was happening here all along.”

“So you’re saying?” You ask quietly. He’s been pretty clear but this is still the same man who told you that he’d never shown you any inclination it was more than friendship, he can’t blame you for checking. 

“I’m saying,” he sniffles, wiping his cheek, “if you want to. I want to be with you. I want to know what it feels like to be in love. To freely love just like Sappho did. How you tried to before I stopped you.”

Your breath hitches with tears. Thank fuck you went to his office. 

“I’d like that,” You smile through your tears, “I’d like that a lot.” 

He reaches forward, his fingers gently moving your hair behind your ear and eyes searching yours. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as his lips meet yours for the first time. 

They’re cold, not like any other kiss that you’ve ever experienced but yet there’s a heat that comes with it, like kissing the person you love more than anyone is making you feel warmer than you ever have. It’s slow and heavy, like he’s showing you he’s got all the time in the world to love you. Your hands move to hold his cheeks and deepen the kiss but Junhui seems to be one stop ahead of you, he pulls you chair even closer and more or less pulls you onto him so you’re straddling his legs, your lips never stopping as you get your first proper taste of him. His tongue is warm unlike his lips and you can’t help but hold each other closer as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You already know that you could never get bored of this feeling and thankfully Junhui has no intention of letting you go now he’s got you. 

He does break the kiss though, smiling as he leans his forehand against yours, his hands holding your waist. 

“I didn’t mean to do it like this. But once again you led the way when you came into my office. I’ve been sitting at that desk for days trying to figure out how to tell you.” 

“I think Ancient Greek poetry was a pretty impressive way to declare you love me to be honest.” You tease, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Being a vampire has some perks,” he smiles at you, his fingers drawing patterns on your waist. “I meant what I said though. You’re like no-one I’ve ever met and I can’t promise we won’t have our struggles but knowing we’ll face them together means the world to me. And I need you to know that what happened that day in my office hasn’t happened in centuries and I hope it’ll never happen again. I’m fine around blood normally I swear.” 

“I figured,” you shrug, “my period started yesterday and I’m still alive.” 

The way you feel his laughter as well as see it sends a thrill through you. You’d always said Junhui was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen but now you need to correct that. Because Junhui laughing whilst he holds you close to him is definitely the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life. In this room full of treasures, he’s definitely the most precious you’ve had the honour to see. 

The rest of your time spent recuperating at Junhui’s place passed by in a wave of him fussing over you trying to do too much every time you tried to put him out of his cooking misery, and gentle touches and promises of how you’d never let anything like this happen again. When he felt like it was all getting too much, or he felt like he was going to lose his cool, he’d tell you and you could find a way to work through it. 

He also made it quite clear that he knew your period was starting the day before it actually started, apparently he can smell the change in your hormones or something and when it started, he could smell the blood. Something which made you panic that the smell was bad or in some way problematic for him. But he quickly put an end to that spiral though by asking did you think you were the only woman on her period he’d ever been around, which you suppose makes sense, he must sense every woman in the office’s period you suppose. 

As the days passed, you just fell even more for your vampire boyfriend. He’d shyly asked you if you wanted to stay in his room with him, rather than his spare room. Neither of you were ready for anything more to happen than kissing or just simply holding each other, but he just wanted you close and you felt exactly the same way. On the first night in his room, he said he wanted to read you something. You presumed it was going to be some kind of romantic poem or excerpt from another lost ancient writer. But instead he confidently stood in front of the bed and began dramatically reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe to you, strange voices for all of the characters and everything. 

It was only after he’d finished reading the first three chapters that he threw himself onto the bed with you and said that he just wanted to hear your laugh. That almost week of not hearing it, he said, had been the worst time of his life and he just wanted to hear it properly, before you both spent your first night holding each other. Something that made you want to giggle and kick your feet, but you remained composed. Sort of. 

The whole time staying at his apartment felt like a dream and you’d think being back in your own apartment would feel like crashing back down to earth. And yet, it doesn’t. Because even as he helped you get settled back at your place, constantly saying that if you didn’t feel ready then he’d happily let you stay at his as long as you wanted, you knew that you’d never feel as low as you did when you ran out of the office. You had your whole future to look forward to and there was no sense in rushing things. You knew you loved each other and that was more than enough. 

Two years later. 

“It’s just a taste really, I don’t think you’d even really register any difference as long as you’ve had your blood for the day.” Seungkwan says casually as he fills up all your glasses. 

“Just a taste?” Junhui scoffs at you, Seungkwan and Wonwoo as you all nod knowingly, “Why are you two nodding? Neither of you are vampires!” 

“Because I’ve listened to Seungkwan and he knows these things.” You say, like Seungkwan is the wisest person you’ve ever met. “And Wonwoo has also listened. He’s great at listening, why do you think his ears are so big?” 

“Hey fuck you!”

“You won’t be saying that to me when I’m a vampire.” You say matter of factly. 

“And you won’t be becoming one if you use your advantage like that.” 

You gawk at your boyfriend, disgusted that he’d say that to you, particularly in front of Wonwoo who’s looking more smug than you’ve ever seen him. 

“I mean it _____,” Junhui says, taking a sip of his drink, “I’m already going against everything I believe in, if you’re going to use it over people, I won’t do it.” 

“He’s not people, he’s Wonwoo,” you say, like it’s obvious. “And you know I’m not like that. We’ve been through this.” 

“I know,” he sighs, scratching his eyebrow, “I’m just……..I still don’t know if I should do it. Maybe we should get Joshua to come over and do it. He’s the oldest. He’s turned people before. We could call him and he’ll be on a flight before we know it.” 

“NO!” You interrupt, making Seungkwan jump and drop his food off his chopsticks, “I don’t want someone else to bite me. I want you to do it.” 

“Oh this is disgusting, do I have to be here for this?” Wonwoo asks Seungkwan. 

“Yes. You need to hear this as much as _____. You’re the one who’s insistent you want to become one too.”

“Childish.” You mumble to Wonwoo. 

“Why should you get to see everything in the future and not me?” 

“Because I fell in love with a vampire,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I think you’ll find he loves me just as much. I’m like your brother, aren’t I Junhui?” He looks at your boyfriend hopefully, Junhui looking slightly panicked. 

“I wouldn’t object to having you around.” He concedes much to your disgust. The last thing Wonwoo needs is his ego boosting. 

“Oh well why don’t you spend eternity with him then,” you throw your napkin on the table dramatically, all of them knowing you’re joking. You’re too excited to be truly angry. 

“Because,” he leans towards you, “I fell in love with you and you’ve somehow become so important that I can’t imagine any future without you. So sadly, you’re going to be stuck with me. Forever.” 

“Dis-gusting.” Wonwoo says flatly as Junhui peppers tiny kisses on your lips and you giggle into them. 

“So it’s just a taste,” Seungkwan carries on once he’s given your sickly pda enough time to come to an end, “you need to take enough blood that her blood sort of panics, in simple terms, her body needs to panic and take on your dna to keep itself alive. It’s a fine line and it’ll be quick, a bite and you only need a couple of mouth fulls for it to be done. Anymore and…….”

“Anymore,” Junhui interrupts, “and I kill the love of my life.” 

The table falls quiet at that. 

About a month ago when you turned 32, you brought up the subject of Junhui changing you, you wanted him to do it and you wanted him to do it whilst you still looked like you. It may be vain but you don’t want to be an old lady and he finally decides to do it. 

It wasn’t a shock to him and to be honest, he’d been thinking about the same thing. Your two years together had shown you two things, that you loved each other like you didn’t think was possible and that Junhui was going to struggle to go on once you’d left this world. You’d gotten the impression he was thinking about it when he spent hours talking to Pearl and Soonyoung on the phone. They’re the only other vampires alive that had been through this and you couldn’t see any other reason that he’d be talking to them so much more than normal. 

You hadn’t gone into it blindly. You knew you’d have to distance yourself from your parents a little as you got older but Junhui said with skincare and things the way they are now, you could probably get away with not cutting them out completely. They wouldn’t really be able to tell you weren’t aging all that much. And you’d have to move around every few decades but that didn’t matter, as long as you were together. You couldn’t see any logical reason for him to not turn you. 

Junhui had resisted doing it himself, even when he’d gotten his head around the fact that in taking your mortal life, he was giving you both an eternal life together. He’d stopped seeing it as murder, like he’d spent a lot of his life doing, because he knew that you’d still be you. You’d still have the same personality, the same looks, even the same preferences in food and literature, you’d just have reflexes like the speed of light and everything else that came with being a vampire. 

Seungkwan and Junhui had been meticulous in their research and planning for the days after he’d turned you. They found enough evidence to suggest that if they doubled the amount of blood that they both have daily, your thirst should be satiated enough that you won’t have the urge to bite anybody. They’d both taken two weeks off work and they were going to monitor you, gradually allowing you near more and more people the more your body adjusted to the change, until you were able to function normally in society just like them. 

It didn’t stop Junhui’s worries though but you loved that he was up front about them. He didn’t want to hide any part of himself from you and that included the uncomfortable truth, that the main thing he was scared of was killing you. It wasn’t that he didn’t drink enough blood daily, it was more that he hasn’t had that thrill of fresh blood from the source in centuries. And, if their research is anything to go by, the blood of someone you love tastes even sweeter than that of any other human being. He knew he could resist, he’d realised in your time together that you’re one of the clumsiest people he’s ever met, he’s cleaned up cuts and grazes and never had an issue. But drinking it? When you’re willingly giving it? He was scared. And you all knew it. 

“You’ve got this Junhui. I know you have. As you do it, just think of the fact that you never have to say goodbye, that if you don’t stop when you need to, you lose everything. That should be all you need to not lose yourself.” Seungkwan says kindly. 

“And let's not forget _____’s self defence classes, she’ll fight you off.” Wonwoo jokes, knowing exactly how to bring everyone back from worrying. 

“Hey. I have a mean right hook.” You say, flexing your nonexistent muscles. 

“It’ll be fine Junhui. And I’ll come by first thing in the morning with the blood.” 

“When do I get turned?” 

“When I can be bothered.” Seungkwan dismisses Wonwoo and goes back to finishing his dinner. 

You and Junhui smile at each other as your friends bicker, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never have to worry about losing each other ever again.

“I thought,” you mumble against Junhui’s lips as he keeps kissing you, “that you were turning me.” 

“I am,” he says against your skin as his lips move down your neck, “but I just wanted to show human _____ how much I love her, one last time.”

His soft lips travel down your body, kissing every bit of skin they come into contact with, like he wants to make sure he’s touched every miniscule part of you before he finally grants your wish. Every tiny peck makes your body feel like it’s on fire and all you can do is lie back on your shared bed, both of you naked, and relish the way he’s worshipping your body. 

“How are you so perfect?” He whispers as he takes your nipple gently into his mouth, humming around it as he sucks gently. 

You’d had sex. You’ve had a lot of sex in your two years together. But this feels different, this feels like you’re giving yourselves to each other, to be naked and bare to each other as he takes your mortal life away and renews it with his unkillable DNA feels like a new birth. It’s possibly the most intimate you’ve ever felt, you’re just two people about to do something that will change your lives for eternity. In all the years you’ll spend with each other after this, no matter how the world changes and whatever life throws at you, this will always stay the same. How it all started, both of you feeling each other in your purest most honest forms, will always feel like this. You’ll always have each other, you’ll always be able to have each other like this. 

His lips leave your nipple, his tongue licking a soft line between the valley of your breasts until he finds your untouched nipple, his lips wrapping around it softly and savouring the feeling of it in his mouth just as much as he had done your other one. Your hands run through his hair, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh at the feeling over him sucking your pebbled nipple. No-one has ever made you feel like this, so beautiful, so wanted. He’s seen hundreds of bodies in his life and yet every time he sees, or feels or tastes yours, it’s like he’s in awe of you, like he can’t get over how stunning you are and that you love him as much as he loves you. 

“I love you,” he hums as his lips move lower and lower, trailing down your stomach, even stopping at your belly button and giving that a little kiss because he knows the ticklish feeling would make you giggle. 

“I love you too,” you giggle as his lips travel painfully close to your pussy. 

You can’t even be annoyed when he bypasses it entirely, you know once he gets a taste of you, he won’t be able to stop. The man has spent hours with his head between your thighs and you both know that he doesn’t stop until you physically can’t take anymore. So he can’t get sidetracked by your perfect pussy because he’s not finished showing the rest of your body the same amount of love as he’s already shown your upper half. His kisses turn wet as he kisses your thighs, your body twitching a little when his hair brushes past your pussy when he kisses the inside of your thighs. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles as his lips move down your legs, kissing every where he comes into contact with, “how I got so lucky to find someone as fucking exquisite as you after all this time.” 

He dodges your feet after he places a gentle kiss on one and you laugh, almost ruining his little monologue. Not that he minds, your laugh has become his favourite sound in the world and one that he can’t wait to hear forever more. But clearly your feet are out of bounds if he doesn’t want you rolling around laughing and so he makes his way back up your legs, savouring the way your soft skin feels against his lips, his tongue occasionally popping out too because any part of you tastes divine to him and he can’t resist.

Junhui glances up at you as he reaches your pussy once again but instead of moving back up your body, he dots featherlight kisses all over you, over your folds, over the inside of your thighs, everywhere he can to show you just how much he loves you. His left hand takes yours in his whilst his other hand gently opens you up for him, his eyes shining in love as he kisses your clit, the feeling making you moan a little as his lips kiss their way down to your leaking entrance. 

“So pretty,” he kitten licks your hole, tasting you straight from the source, “I can’t believe I get to spend eternity with you. All mine, to taste, to savour, to worship.” He licks a long stripe back up to your clit, your hand squeezing his from how good it feels. 

His lips suck gently on your clit, your hips bucking a little from the pleasure it sends shooting through your body. 

“Do you think every part of you tastes good darling?” He must feel the way you twitch at that because you feel his smirk disrupt his sucking on your clit he’d gone back to doing. 

You’d told him just how much the idea of him biting you excited you, you’ve no idea why, you think it’s because it’s something nobody has ever done. It’s something so forbidden that for him to do it, to bite you and to taste your blood, it makes this whole thing even more erotic. You’d spoken about tonight, you’d told him that you wanted to feel him bite you just once before he actually bites you properly. You know you’re risking a lot and you’re amazed he agreed, if Seungkwan found out, he’d be furious. “Just one bite and just a taste.” But you want to know how good the pain feels and see the effect your blood has on him before you’re too lost in changing into a vampire that you don’t see anything at all. 

“You’re such a dirty girl ______. It’s pretty perverse to want to see the effect you have on me like that. But,” he licks your pussy again, humming at the taste of your fresh wave of arousal, “I’d give you anything darling, I’d give you the whole fucking world if I could.” 

He licks one more time before his tongue carries on up along your stomach and wraps around one of your nipples again. 

“Fuck!” He makes you jump when suddenly drops your nipple and shouts, “I love you so fucking much.” He says through gritted teeth, your heart pounding and pussy clenching when, for the first time in two years, he looks up at you and you see those red eyes and pearlescent fangs that you saw once before in his office. 

“You think you can just tell me that you want me to taste you, all of you, and I wouldn’t say yes?” his teeth scratch along your skin softly, just above where your heart is pounding. 

You try your best not to squirm but you can’t help it, you’re not doing it out of fear, you’re doing it because of the threat of him sinking his teeth into you at any given moment. The thrill of that expectant pain only makes you drip more than you ever have for him. 

His fingers trail down your stomach as his teeth pause in their scratching, weighing just a little heavier on your skin and making your body pause in anticipation. But he doesn’t do anything with his teeth. His fingers however plunge into your aching hole, making you arch in pleasure at the sudden stretch of his two fingers and your skin, that his teeth were already resting on, ripple the skin, perilously close to breaking it but somehow not. 

“Look how wet you are just at the thought of me tasting your blood, I never knew you were such a pervert darling,” he mutters against your skin, his fingers dragging against your gummy walls and hitting your g spot tantalisingly.

You can’t respond to him, you’re too lost in pleasure and the idea that you’re totally in his care. Your whole body is his to do with as he pleases and if one thing goes wrong, you’re done for. You trust him, you trust him with your life or what you’ll have left of it after this, but it’s the temptation that he’ll have and danger that comes with it. It’s warped, but the idea that he is going to be so drunk on you when he tastes you, that you’ll be giving him so much pleasure in ways no other woman ever has during sex, is sending you a little crazy. 

His fingers hammer in and out of you, the sounds of your sopping pussy and moans that your body doesn’t seem to want to fully release as you wait for him to taste you, filling the room. You’re close, you’re so close and he knows it. He knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows every twitch and every tiny response you have to him and so he knows from the little pattern of clenches your pussy is making around his long fingers, that it won’t be long until you come undone around them. 

It’s because he knows you so well, knows what you want from him, that just as your high is about to it, he sinks his fangs into you just enough that it punctures your skin. 

“Fuck,” you cry, your pussy trembling around his fingers just as much as the rest of your body is as the pain of him biting you and drawing blood mixes with the pleasure coursing through your body from the greatest orgasm of your life. You feel like you’re floating, your whole body filled with electricity as you writhe and cry beneath him, gripping his body and riding his fingers to see you through your orgasm. 

When you open your eyes and blink Junhui into focus, the sight makes your blood run cold. Yet you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your pussy clench painfully in overstimulation. 

He stares at you, eyes glistening red and fangs dripping in your blood. The bite has already healed, the dull pain of it and your blood in his mouth being the only reminder that he’d bitten you, as he takes his fingers from inside you and licks your essence off them, the taste of your blood and your cum mixing together and creating something that Junhui has never experienced in all his years of living. It’s like the ultimate delicacy and it stirs something almost animalistic in him. You’re his. You are totally and utterly his and that taste just solidifies it. It’s like it's imprinted something in him that you won’t ever be able to take away, not that he’d ever want you to. 

The blood drips from his fangs onto your breasts and you both look down at it, knowing exactly what he’s going to do even as more blood drips down onto the purity of your skin. His tongue darts out and he licks every last drop that’s fallen, his tongue getting more and more frantic the more he tastes. And you’ve never felt more desired, more totally beholding to someone than you have in your entire life. He hums into the taste and if you couldn’t feel his fangs drag against your nipple as he was licking your blood from your breasts, you’d think he was back to your usual caring Junhui. 

But when he’s cleaned everything off you, your skin a little pink from how he’s spread the remains of blood over you when he licked it off, and he looks into your eyes. Reality hits you. He looks at your untarnished neck, his red eyes shining a little brighter at the prospect of what’s about to happen and you know that this is it. Your mortal life is going to end and you’ll have the privilege that every other person doesn’t get, you’ll get to spend eternity with the man you love. Both of you seeing the wonders the world has to offer now and the wonders that are yet to come. 

You know your Junhui is still there, he isn’t so lost in the taste of you or his desires that he’s totally left you, because he nods just a little, silently asking you if you’re ready for this. 

“I love you Junhui. I want forever with you.” 

His breath hitches, he takes in your naked body and moves to hover over you, his body resting against yours, skin to skin as he holds your hands above your head. 

He places one last gentle kiss to your mortal lips, whispering a gentle “I love you too.” against them before he moves his lips down along your jaw and onto your neck. 

His lips stop and it’s like your world stops with it. You take one last deep breath in and as you breathe out, you feel his fangs sink into your neck much harder than they had during that first bite. It hurts. It’s the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced but Junhui’s hands squeeze yours letting you know he’s still yours, he hasn’t become the monster that could kill you as he gently sucks on your neck. It isn’t like when someone sucks a love bite onto your neck, with each tiny suck it sinks his fangs even further into your skin and makes you sob just that little harder from the added pain. 

But the pain is the last thing on your mind. You feel his DNA running through your veins, overtaking the DNA that makes you human and changing you into something colder, something more primal. You feel cold, colder than you ever have and yet you feel more alive than ever. Like as more of his DNA courses through you, the stronger your body feels like it’s getting, like you could take on a whole stampede of rhinos and come out the victor. 

He yanks himself away from you, his body shaking and convulsing like everything in him is telling him to carry on, to get his fill of you until you’re dead. But he can’t do that. He won’t. You’re his _____ and he knows if he doesn’t stop now, he never will. He kneels back, still holding one of your hands but drawing away enough to allow the bite enough time to heal and the temptation to keep biting to heal along with it. He strokes your waist with his free hand and waits for you to come round, hoping he hasn’t drawn too much blood from you, as you gasp for breath and shake a little on the bed, your body trying to fight his DNA off yet cling to it to keep you alive. 

“Come on _____,” he whispers, looking at you with wide eyes that are now completely devoid of any red, your Junhui well and truly back. But he just wants to make sure that you’re back and to be honest, he’s starting to panic. “Please darling, come on. We’ve got this, we can do this,” 

His hand keeps stroking your waist and if he was a little less panicked he’d feel that you’re squeezing his hand, trying to show him that you’re still there and your body is just trying to catch up with what’s happened. 

“My love?” He lunges forward when your eyes blink open, the wound on your neck healing completely as you do. “_____ are you with me?” 

He startles a little when you open your eyes and red ones stare back at him. 

“What?” You mumble, not liking the look of slight horror on his face. 

“Nothing,” he shakes off the shock, “I just forgot your eyes would be red until you have your first blood, that’s all. Are you ok? You feel ok?” 

“I feel fantastic,” you smile, “like I could fight someone and actually win.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’ll wear off in an hour or so. Come on, let's get you washed and changed then you can sleep it off before Seungkwan comes with the blood.” 

“Hold on,” you pull his hand as you sit up, both of you face to face, “thank you for doing this. I know it took a lot and I know you hated it. Just….thank you. And I love you.” 

“I love you too.” he says, kissing your lips and noting it doesn’t feel much different from kissing your human lips. “Come on,” he stands up and scoops you into his arms, smiling at how you laugh at his antics and realising this has really changed nothing other than you get to spend your whole life together. 

“There was one more thing I needed to tell you about all this.” 

“What,” you frown as he places you on the bathroom counter and sets the bath running, “if you’re about to tell me some awful thing about being a vampire that you kept to yourself, I’ll kill you Junhui.” 

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try newbie.” You quirks his brow at you. “And it’s not that. You know how Wonwoo wanted turning too?” 

“Yeah?” You say slowly, not really liking where this is going. 

“Well. When Seungkwan brings the blood in the morning. He’s also bringing Wonwoo. Because you’ll both be needing that blood……..” he waits for you to realise what this means. 

“I HAVE TO SPEND TWO WEEKS LOCKED IN THIS APARTMENT WITH FUCKING WONWOO?!” 

He dodges the toilet roll you aim at his head, though only just now your reflexes match his, but can’t help but laugh as you berate him. All he can think as he adds bubbles to your bath is how lucky he is that you walked into his office and caught him drinking blood. If you hadn’t, he’d never be here now. Being shouted at by the love of his life and looking forward to an eternity of this chaos that he’s grown to love so much.

If you had a dollar for every exasperated sigh you’ve let out during this seemingly never-ending phone call with your mother, you’d be able to pay off your student loans in an instant. Though the frustration is palpable to you, causing your already elevated blood pressure to spike further, it’s invisible to her. 

Or worse, inconsequential.

“I’m just saying!” She offers, as if this takes the edge off. As if she’s ever said anything just to say it. “It wouldn’t kill you to give Mika another chance. It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

The next time you hear her voice, it doesn’t come from the phone pinched between your ear and shoulder; it materializes in the back of your brain and lingers like a poltergeist.

Don’t roll your eyes like that unless you want them to get stuck that way.

Across the counter, the person subbing in for your usual barista shoots you an impatient glare, then flicks his gaze to the growing line behind you.

“Mom, I have to —”

“— You really should return her calls, dove. Bitterness causes premature wrinkles, and you can’t afford —”

At this, the thread you’re dangling by snaps. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try your best to keep your voice down. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll talk to you later.”

When you hang up on her, the forceful tap against your phone’s screen sounds more like a rock against a window. Already wind-bitten from the walk here, your cheeks burn even more harshly when you note the multiple pairs of eyes watching you with poorly disguised interest. 

Not wanting to make an even bigger spectacle out of yourself, you hurriedly shove your phone in your pocket and accept the drink being handed to you, even though you can tell by the blatant lack of ice that it’s wrong.

“Thank you,” you mutter with a curt nod.

The second-string barista doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve spoken. That said, the throbbing vein in his temple disappears the second you back away from his counter.

With the americano you didn’t order burning a hole through your palm, you turn swiftly and head for the door. You barely make it two steps before your phone starts screaming from the inside of your coat pocket.

Leaning hard against the glass door, you force it open with your body alone and use your spare hand to instead grasp the source of all your morning’s problems. The pressure of that godforsaken brick shoves the post of your earring painfully into your neck. 

You growl, “When I said later, I didn’t mean by thirty seconds.”

A voice that is distinctly not your mother’s stammers, “Um — hello — This is Tom from Amato, Shapiro, and Santi.”

Never have you ever encountered a firm of assholes so aptly named.

He waits a beat, no doubt expecting you to apologize for your rude non-greeting, but you don’t. In fact, he could wait forever and still not get a mea culpa. 

It’s only fair, you think. 

Just last month, the serial sex pest he represents escaped liability for harassing your client, due in large part to Tom’s bullshit antics. If that poor woman couldn’t even get an apology for what she went through, Tom certainly won’t now.

“Yes, I know where you work, Tom.” 

You roll your eyes again. It’s a reckless decision, given how furiously you’re charging down the sidewalk. A dog-walker scrambles to get both himself and his tiny, white dog out of your way. 

“Do you need something? I don’t chat for free.”

The shitty little laugh you get in response makes your skin crawl. He doesn’t drag it out, though, immediately simpering, “But do you make use of the time you bill for?”

“What are you — ?” You begin to ask.

Tom cuts you off, his tone jovial and no less fake than his back alley Gucci loafers. “I’m inquiring about your witness and exhibit lists for the Qian divorce in two weeks. Really waiting until the last minute, huh? Trying to keep me on my toes?”

Though he can’t see you do it, you shake your head with a patronizing smile. 

“Nice try, Tom,” you sigh. “Judge Ito continued that to May. She’s the keynote speaker for that cancerous children charity gala, or whatever.”

You weave through two old women with a muttered apology. Both are too busy gossiping about their grandsons to hear you, which is no surprise. They didn’t notice the queue of pissed-off pedestrians stuck behind their roadblock, either.

“No,” Tom corrects you. “She issued an entry a month ago, advising the parties that the conflict was no longer conflicting; and the original trial date would stand.”

The block heel of your boot catches in a divot in the sidewalk. Although you don’t trip, you may as well have. The coffee you didn’t want sloshes violently, goaded by your sudden, harsh squeeze of its cup; and it splatters all over your top, burning your chest through sticky, soaked fabric. 

Because why not, you rue, the heel that did you in clatters separately to wet concrete when you lift your foot, having ripped itself from your sole.

Rather than lie down on the concrete and wait for death in the way you crave, you swallow hard and choke out, “I never got that entry.”

“It sounds like you never got competent support staff.” He laughs too loudly, making your blood boil. “Ultimately, it’s up to you which is more pressing: cleaning house or the Rules of Civil Procedure.”

Your mouth opens instinctively to tell him all the million ways he can fuck off and die. He cuts you off again before you can start: 

“Just know that I will make it a problem if you can’t get your shit together in time for court. My client is sick of yours dragging this out. Frankly, so am I.”

And without another word, Tom hangs up on you. 

Whatever.

Anything else he might’ve said would’ve been drowned out by the hammering pulse in your ears, anyway. What you did hear loops through your brain with every uneven step you take down the warpath, bringing your office building closer and closer into view.

Trial in two weeks.

Competent support staff.

As much as you hate to admit it, Tom has a point. You’ve been making excuses for your paralegal, Dev, for months, but this kind of fuck-up can’t be overlooked. No matter how endearing he is, Dev’s a goddamn disaster. Put simply, you can’t keep sticking your neck out for him only to have it trampled, time and again.

Dread churns in your stomach for the remainder of your commute, although the full-blown nausea doesn’t hit you until you exit the elevator and wobble out into your firm’s waiting area. A deep breath in through your nose is followed by a shaky exhale through your mouth. 

Neither helps. 

You make a mental note to tell your therapist that she was wrong, then another one to actually schedule an appointment.

Despite your unflinching exterior — and the profession you’ve willingly chosen for reasons still unknown to you — the simple fact remains that you don’t seek out confrontation. Nothing ruins your day quite like having to ruin someone else’s. Unfortunately for Dev, you don’t have a choice not to go nuclear. Likewise, you don’t have much time left to get your shit together prior to trial. All you seem to have is an ultimatum to present him for consideration:

Stay late with me tonight to clean up this mess, or be out of the job by the end of business hours.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself as you make a beeline for your personal office. 

There, somewhere amidst the out-of-date statutory reference books and evidence boxes, you’ve got at least one pair of spare Chelsea boots hidden for circumstances like these. 

Well, that’s not quite true. 

You’ve planned ahead for sudden court appearances or shitty weather, not for the abysmally bad luck you’ve experienced so far this morning. Regardless of why you have this contingency plan locked down, you’re grateful that you do. If nothing else, it will allow you to obtain some semblance of balance before potentially kicking Dev to the curb.

Upon hobbling into your office, you close the door behind you and immediately kick off your current shoes so violently that the broken boot flies somewhere out of sight. It takes several minutes’ worth of sock-footed scurrying to find their replacements. Eventually, you locate them in a far more reasonable spot than you expected: tucked neatly underneath the far edge of your L-shaped desk.

You drop yourself into your desk chair, suddenly feeling the crushing weight of your burdens against your shoulders, and begin to unceremoniously shove your feet into your boots.

It all just fucking figures, doesn’t it?

For as far back as you can remember, every Valentine’s Day you’ve experienced has been hellish. Comically cruel, like the showrunners in charge of your narrative are trying to maintain viewership, season after season; and they’re upping the ante as they go.

Last year, Mika couldn’t be bothered to remember your relationship, let alone the holiday. She spent it underneath someone else in your bed. Before that, the “first date” you had to be talked into in the first place ended the same way it started: with you sitting alone at a bar in a crowd of perfect pairs. The pattern started in undergrad, though the memories thankfully get foggier the further back you look.

By staying away from romance entirely for the last few months, you’d made yourself so sure that you’d cracked the code — that, for once, you’d make it through the fourteenth unscathed.

And yet, here you are, suffering immensely before your day even starts.

When your therapist’s bullshit breathing technique does nothing to soothe you, you close your eyes and mutter to yourself, “It cannot get worse. It will not get worse. Bad things have happened, but it is not a bad day.”

Whether the sudden sense of calm you feel is the byproduct of mindfulness or delusion, you can’t say. Whatever the source is, you’ll take it. You cling to that shred of perspective, push yourself to your feet with a grunt, and head back in the direction you just came from.

Outside your door, the hallway gives you two options: the waiting area, which you stomped through to get where you currently are, and the office shared by your firm’s two current paralegals. 

Tsia, the more senior of the two, is currently on maternity leave, which means that you’ll be able to dangle Dev off the ledge without an audience. That tiny piece of consolation is enough to get you moving in his direction, although the serenity you just barely managed to scrounge up starts evaporating more and more with every step you take.

“Dev?” You call out as you approach his closed door.

This, you note, is unlike him. He’s never been productive enough to need to shut out distractions; and he’s never been shameful enough to hide the fact that he spends most days scrolling through TikTok — without headphones, no less.

“Dev?” You try again, attempting to sound much more pleasant than you feel. “Are you on the phone?”

Hearing no response, you reach for the knob and turn it slowly, offering him some additional time to at least pretend to be busy. After counting to five, you push the door open. Then, you freeze.

Dev and his blasted cell phone are nowhere to be seen. His work laptop is on, which might have suggested that he simply stepped away, but the backlit sheet of paper taped to it says otherwise. You cross to his desk and snatch the note from his screen, eyes scanning quickly through his shockingly neat script and widening with horror at every word.

Boss,

Please consider this my resignation letter. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you in advance, but everything came about so suddenly that I haven’t had much time to wrap my brain around it. My partner’s business trip to Malta turned into a relocation offer, and now the two of us are going to –

Without bothering to finish that sentence, you crush the paper within your white-knuckled fist and squeeze your eyes shut tightly enough to sting. 

FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.

Unable to scream out loud, you slam that same fist down onto his desk with force. The smack of your hand against the wood doesn’t distract from the panic swelling in your chest, but it does bring his laptop back to life. The sudden appearance of his desktop is especially surprising, considering you told him no fewer than ten times to password-protect his shit.

Because the hits simply will not stop coming, you see two things at once that make you want to vomit. 

The desktop wallpaper is an adorable photo of Dev and his partner. Both are smiling, holding one another closely on a beach somewhere, as if the world isn’t capable of crashing down around them. 

At the bottom of the screen, below sand-covered feet, is a growing list of push notifications on his minimized Outlook application.

It’s the last thing in the world you want to do, but you can’t help it; damage control is impossible if you can’t properly triage the problem. Swallowing down bile, you click on the icon and bring up your firm’s primary email inbox, which Tsia and Dev are jointly responsible for manning. Of the hundreds of untouched messages, more than half are from either local Clerks of Court or Tom fucking Santi.

Just above the notice of your now-upcoming trial, you find the only January emails that Dev did read, confirming one-way plane tickets to Malta and the booking of international movers. That motherfucker not only lied in his quote-unquote resignation letter about the amount of notice he could give you but also about the billable hours he burned, planning his escape.

All at once, you feel your internal systems crashing out. Your eyes swim, your head reels, and your stomach lurches. You don’t know whether you want to scream, sob, or send yourself flying out of the nearby window. All of them — preferably at once.

The only reason you don’t do any of these things, no matter how strong the urges are, is the fact that your professional reputation is at stake. Your abject refusal to appear incompetent kicks you into overdrive. It kicks you so far, in fact, that you find yourself in your co-worker’s office with no real memory of walking there in the first place.

Yuki jolts when she looks up from her monitors and finds you looming over her with your eyes too wide to be normal. She gets up immediately and gestures for you to sit on the plush loveseat underneath her window. You don’t – rather, can’t – move, so she places her hands on your shoulders and ushers you onto a cushion herself.

“Dear god,” she mutters. “Are you okay?”

She should know by now that this is the worst possible question to ask you under circumstances like this. Of course, you weren’t okay when you barged in here to begin with. You’re even worse off now because your weakness is being perceived. 

Embarrassment and self-loathing bubbles under the surface of your skin, making you hot. Both threaten to leak out through your eyes. 

You don’t want to have to ask for help, period, but you’re out of options; and Yuki is the only person here who’s allowed to see you anywhere near a breakdown. That, and you’re certain she’d be available. Having drafted the shared parenting agreement for her and her ex-boyfriend, you know for a fact that their daughter will be with him tonight.

“If I buy you takeout, would you be willing to stay for a while after work to help with some last minute trial prep?” You can’t even bring yourself to meet her eyes when you explain, “Dev bailed, and I’m so, so, so fucked now.”

Yuki grabs your hand from your lap and squeezes. For a split second, you feel relieved. Then, you hear her sigh, and your hopes are dashed just as quickly as they were raised.

“Kimiko’s kindergarten class is having a daddy-daughter dance for Valentine’s Day tonight,” she starts.

The pained look on her face tells you everything you need to know. Nevertheless, she continues, “Ty flaked, as usual. I had to be the one to decide what would be more humiliating for her — being the only kid there with their mom, or the only kid who doesn’t get to go at all.”

“I’m so sorry, Yuki.”

You mean it, wholeheartedly. The only victim of your shitty love life is you. Yuki, on the other hand, has a six-year-old to protect from becoming collateral damage. 

She simply shrugs, too used to this sort of letdown to let it ruin her day. “Kimiko bounced back fairly quickly, which is pretty sad, in and of itself. She asked if we could wear matching outfits.”

You crack a smile for the first time all day. Gesturing to her entirely black, incredibly chic outfit, you tease, “Is she dressing for a funeral, too?”

“I wish!” Yuki throws her head back and whines, “The vibes tonight are tragically bright pink, and I have to leave early to shop before the dance starts.”

“Well…” You give her hand a squeeze, then let it go entirely. “I’m sending you thoughts and prayers, buddy.”

She swats at you, tells you kindly to fuck off, and then wishes you good luck while you head back out her door.

As you trudge back towards your office, you run through your list of contingency plans. 

The firm’s owners, Zavier and Jaein, are both out of the question. If they’re not spending the night with their respective spouses, they’ll be continuing their not-so-secret affair with one another. Even if they weren’t, you’d rather stand in front of an oncoming train than give them any reason to doubt your abilities. 

Next.

With Yuki out of commission, there are three other associate attorneys left for you to consider. 

Dani is engaged and definitely has plans with his smoke-show of a fiancé; there’s no point in asking him for help. You’d never hear the end of it if you did, anyway. He’s so committed to his one-sided rivalry with you that he’d probably make a plaque to commemorate your failings. 

Pass.

Sana and her wife are on a cruise somewhere far more pleasant than here, so she’s out. Thank god. Beating your head against a wall would be preferable to spending several hours in a room alone with her. Sana’s only personality trait is married, and she’s entirely incapable of talking about anything else. 

Hard pass.

The relatively new hire, Junhui, is still an unknown factor. In the few months he’s worked here, you’ve met him exactly once that you can recall. It was a brief encounter in the break room; and his mouth was so full of whatever he’d brought for lunch that he couldn’t respond beyond simply waving when you’d introduced yourself.

He seemed perfectly nice — and from what you hear, he’s perfectly competent — but yours is far too big a burden to shove onto a virtual stranger.

Besides, there’s simply no way that someone who looks like that doesn’t have better places to be tonight.

Junhui doesn’t realize that he’d nodded off until his bleary eyes travel down from his half-finished report and spot the time in the bottom corner of his screen. Apparently, it’s already a quarter to six. If he hadn’t fallen asleep at some point in the recent past, he’d be stepping off the train home by now. 

Of course, he isn’t. Now, with all the other commuters flooding public transit, the trip home will be at least twice as long.

Damn it.

He scrubs his hands over his face in an attempt to get the exhaustion off of it, though he doesn’t manage without yawning into his palms. 

Figuring that he’s already behind schedule, he slowly rises to his feet and stretches his arms over his head with a groan, dreaming all the while of the caffeine he can down before heading out. With no one left in the office, he’ll be able to fail his way through this acquisition without anyone knowing how completely inept he is at using the firm’s espresso machine.

As expected, Junhui’s walk to the conference room is lonely. Each of his colleagues’ doors are closed, making it clear that they all bolted the second they could. Even the cleaning staff managed to come and go without him noticing; all the trash and recycling bins have been emptied. 

Thankfully, he notes, someone forgot to turn off the conference room light before they dipped. If they hadn’t, all his steps would be taken in total darkness — because, even after three months of working here, he still doesn’t have a clue where the switches are.

As soon as he crosses the threshold into that sole, lit room, Junhui stops. The massive table that normally occupies the center of it has been shoved up against the interior wall, along with all its chairs. In its place, evidence boxes form a haphazard little fairy circle on the rug. You sit cross-legged in the middle, nose all but buried in a case file, wearing leggings and a crewneck instead of the suit you likely came here in.

“You look comfortable,” he muses.

It becomes abundantly clear very quickly that you, too, thought you were here alone. You jolt at the sound of his voice. All the papers you were holding drop and scatter, both across your lap and the floor you’re monopolizing.

Junhui’s hands fly up. “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

The look on your face is far from startled, though. Even from a few meters away, he can see how tightly your jaw is clenched. If he listens closely, he’d likely hear your teeth grinding one another into dust. 

He can also sense how stiff your posture is, now that you feel his eyes on you. His gaze shifts to the piles of paper near your knotted limbs; and he tells himself that he’s averting his eyes out of respect, not the tiny tremble of intimidation he feels working its way down his spine.

At this point, Junhui knows you by reputation only. He’s rarely at any of the courthouses you frequent, and his specific line of work keeps him out of the office, more often than not. Whenever he is here, you’re not — too busy with that massive caseload of yours to catch much of a breather.

The two of you may be passing ships in the night, but you have a lot of people in common. He can’t say that he’s made much of an impression on them so far. You, on the other hand, are both widely known and discussed. 

So far, anyone that’s ever mentioned you to him speaks about you as if they’re describing a force of nature. It’s the kind of awe people usually save for something fearsome yet worthy of respect, like a tsunami — with the sole exception being that sanctimonious cunt, Tom Santi, who most recently described you as a nightmare bitch from hell.

Of course, Junhui has no firsthand knowledge to back any of these claims up, but he figures it can’t be that far out of character for you to be here now, working too hard. For all he knows, it could also be on-brand for you to snap his neck for distracting you.

“Do you…?”

One of your eyebrows arches quizzically. His question dies on his tongue, halfway finished, because he doesn’t know where it was headed in the first place. Just the same, he can’t tell if that expression on your face is due to stress, annoyance at being interrupted, or some secret, third thing.

…Want me to leave?

Junhui points awkwardly to the espresso machine in the corner, which you’ve unintentionally barricaded behind the conference room table. Like a fucking buffoon, all he says is: “Espresso?”

Your face scrunches a tiny bit. For the second time, he finds himself completely unable to read you. Is it disgust? Suspicion?

No, he realizes, it’s neither. He sees the tiniest flicker of it when the corner of your lips twitch: amusement. While the smile doesn’t overtake your mouth, there’s a glimmer of it in your eyes. It’s reason enough for Junhui to breathe for the first time since he walked in.

“Yes, I do espresso.” You nod with your lips bitten between your teeth, like you’re seconds away from laughing. 

Too eagerly, Junhui nods, too. “Right. Got it. Order up.”

Order up?

Running away isn’t an option; and he can’t dig a hole to hide in without a shovel. All he has left to do is shuffle over towards the corner and slink through the obstacle course you’ve built. With what he feels is impressive agility, he makes it all the way to the machine before pausing suddenly. 

Under his breath, he curses, “Fuck.”

The jig is up now. Junhui has no idea which buttons to press, or even where the espresso beans are. Unfortunately for both of you, the only way for him to find out is to interrupt you further. 

Whoever handles his eulogy better leave out how little time it took him to provoke you into killing him.

Bracing himself for impact, he squeezes his eyes shut and smiles sheepishly. “Do you happen to know how to… use this?”

There’s a groan from the center of the room. Junhui cracks one eye open and searches for the fist coming his way. Instead, he finds you on your feet, twisting at the waist and stretching.

While twisting, you lock eyes — well, eye — with him, then you freeze with your torso still rotated in his direction. Your hinged arms stay where they are, held up at your sides.

“I’ve been sitting here like a goblin for too long,” you explain, tone self-conscious. “If you just heard every joint in my body pop…. no, you didn’t.”

Before Junhui can think of a quip in response — he’s capable of coherent speech, he swears — you step over the shoes you’ve discarded and make your way over to him, patterned socks clashing with the neutral carpet below. He steps back on instinct, although there isn’t really anywhere left for him to go. 

You either don’t notice how close you get to him, or you don’t care. Entirely unfazed, you set to work, grinding and tamping like it’s all second nature to you.

Junhui knows he should use this time to observe your processes carefully, but he doesn’t. That’s not to say the learning opportunity is entirely squandered, though. 

And he’s a quick study.

In less than a minute, he learns more about you than he has in the last three months. His first discovery is that you’re wearing a watch on your dominant wrist, which is weird as hell — until he spots the small tattoo hiding beneath it. He catches the very faint notes of patchouli at the base of your perfume, too, underneath the cassis and freesia.

It’s nice, he thinks, even better than the overwhelming scent of coffee that swoops in to drown it out.

“This goes here —”

The silver piece in your hand twists into place with a click, drawing his attention back to where it should’ve been all along. 

Fuck. 

Have you been talking this entire time?

“— and then you press the start button to release the hot water.”

You glance up at him then to confirm that he understood you. Junhui blinks, buffering while he tries to play this out.

“You’re good at this,” he improvises, although he admittedly has no idea if this is true. 

“No compliments until you survive drinking it.” You offer him a wry smile to go with the drink you’ve made him. “I’ve quite literally never touched this thing before in my life.”

With your vaguely expectant eyes on him, he takes a small sip, then he murmurs with his lips still hidden behind the glass, “I don’t think I believe that.”

“Why?” You smirk and tilt your head to the side. “Because it’s just that good?”

No, in fact, it’s terrible, but you don’t need to know that.

Junhui nods his head towards the center of the room. His reply is simple, and despite not being the full truth, it’s not a lie: “I’d expect more practice from someone who seems to live here.”

For the first time since he walked in, you offer a full reaction — not just a hint of one. He would’ve preferred a laugh, or even a genuine smile; however, that’s not what he gets. Instead, your face becomes pinched.

“Fucking Dev.”

Whatever thought you might have had about making your own shitty drink disappears. You stalk back over to your shrine of documents and drop once again to the floor, legs knitted. In the split second you’re not looking at him, Junhui spits out the bean shards you missed while grinding and tosses them in the nearby trash can.

Although he’s curious, he hesitates to ask what it is you’re working on. Clearly, whatever it is has got you stressed to the point that caffeine is no longer a priority. Based on personal experience, that’s a bad sign.

Still, Junhui can’t seem to stop talking to you, even though he’s sure it’s a bother. He takes a second look at the sheer amount of paper surrounding you and ventures a guess: “Class-action suit?”

“That would honestly be preferable,” you mutter, looking up from your notes long enough to glance over your shoulder at him.

He takes this as a sign that his presence isn’t entirely unwelcome. At least, it’s a good enough omen to draw him closer. He skirts back around the mess of chairs until he’s standing across from where you sit, and then he leans back against the table.

You look back down again, leaving Junhui to wonder if he made the wrong call. For what it’s worth, he also wonders what it really is about you that’s making him act so awkwardly all of the sudden.

“What are you still here for?”

His heart drops into his stomach, which is about ready to fall right out of his ass. His mouth opens, though nothing comes out.

Sensing the way he’s quietly spiraling, you look up at him. “In the office, I mean,” you amend quickly with a shake of your head. “We don’t really run into each other during business hours, so I didn’t expect to see you here after, you know?”

Ah, fuck.

Junhui swallows. 

The truth — that he’s only here because he dozed off on the clock — is offensive, even to him. Here you are, working hard enough for two people; and in stomps the clown whose tasks bored him right to sleep. While he doesn’t want anyone to know about his unprofessional little snooze, the thought of admitting it to you feels…

Nope. 

He’s not going to unpack this, not now. It doesn’t matter if it’s a desire to not look dumb in front of a colleague or one to be a little more impressive to you, specifically.

“I was working on an investigatory report,” he eventually says, conveniently leaving out the fact that his impromptu nap kept him from finishing it.

You arch an eyebrow again, which he’s beginning to believe is an unconscious tell of yours. Yet another quiet invitation.

“Investigatory report? Is that… common?”

The two of you look at each other. Now, he’s confused.

“You do immigration law, don’t you?” You gesture over his shoulder, out the door. “You’ve got five different name plates outside your office, written in as many different alphabets —”

Oh.

“— I kind of just assumed —”

Junhui laughs, which causes your other eyebrow to rise up and join the other. “I mean, I dabble. It’s all soul-crushing, though, so I try not to take those cases unless they’re, like, dire.”

Too many of them are.

You hum in acknowledgment. “So, what do you do?” 

“Guardian ad Litem work, mostly,” he replies with a shrug. “The name plates are —“

He gestures vaguely, but then all that suppressed, systemic frustration starts to bubble up, unbidden. He’s never been great at withholding his little rants, so he starts talking a little too quickly, a little too loudly. 

“There are a lot of immigrant families in the area, right? Whether or not they should, a lot of them wind up court-involved, especially where their kids are concerned.” 

As aware as he is that his hands are moving too much with each word, he’s unable to stop. 

“I noticed that absolutely nobody on the local courts’ appointment lists was multilingual, which is just fucking negligent —”

When you finally speak, it’s with your head tilted and eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Sounds to me like someone found their calling.”

And against his better judgment, Junhui takes his balled up fist, extends his thumb and pinky finger, and holds it up to his ear. “Might have been a wrong number, but it’s worked out well enough so far.”

And you laugh, sincerely and squeakily in a way that nearly makes him laugh, too.

“You’re weird. You know that, right? Like weird weird.” You grin as you say this, leading him to believe it’s a compliment of the highest order. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Junhui looks at you, looking at him, and he feels the charge your shitty espresso couldn’t muster. He feels bolder. Gesturing to your mountain of documents, he finally brings himself to ask why you’re still here. The second he does, he regrets it; he watches you deflate in real time, smile warping downwards.

“It’s a clusterfuck.” 

You take your eyes off of him and plant them back on the file in your hands. 

“I found out that a nasty trial of mine is taking place in two weeks, rather than twelve, and I have to get shit together tonight or I’m fucked – genuinely, irrevocably fucked. I can’t file a Witness and Exhibit List until I get through all of this discovery–” 

You shift your extended left leg to give one of the boxes a half-hearted kick. 

“– and if I don’t submit that for electronic filing by midnight, all my shit will be excluded.”

Junhui nods his understanding, then pushes himself off the table he’s been leaning on. You watch him carefully, waiting for him to excuse himself and walk out the door, but that was never his intention. Instead, he sits cross-legged on the floor across from you and grabs a packet of exhibit stickers off one of the nearby boxes’ lids.

“Letters or numbers?” He asks, holding the packet aloft.

You blink before you splutter, “Oh, wait, no. No, you really don’t have to. I couldn’t ask you to –”

“Letters or numbers?” Junhui repeats himself, softer but no less seriously.

“You seriously don’t have other plans?”

Now, it’s his turn to balk. Unlike you, his shock is entirely manufactured. “On a work night? In this economy?”

“On Valentine’s Day,” you correct him with emphasis.

Rather than feigned horror, it’s earnest embarrassment that floods his face. The tips of his ears start burning, too, in a matter of seconds. Smiling sheepishly, he admits, “Guess I forgot. Don’t really have much to celebrate, you know?”

You raise the manila folder in your hand and reach over to tap it against the packet of stickers in his.

“Cheers to that,” you scoff.

Junhui, it turns out, is even more productive than you are. He falls into lockstep with you the moment he sits down, and other than asking him to hand you things that are closer to him than to you, you don’t need to direct him.

Better still, he anticipates. Every time you finish reviewing one exhibit, he’s holding another one out to you – pre-marked – with a packet of post-it tabs for you to mark especially relevant pages. Though you certainly didn’t ask him to, the tabs he gives you follow a color-scheme, creating a key for easier reference.

Green for financial records, red for social media posts and other electronic communications, blue for your clients’ extensive medical and therapy records.

In only a handful of hours, you comb through everything you need to in order to truly start preparing. The sinkhole that’s been occupying your stomach since this morning disappears. In its place, all that’s left is a void of a different kind.

“I’m starving,” you announce suddenly and dramatically, flopping onto your back with your arm flung over your forehead. “Are you?”

When you don’t get a response, you pull your arm away from your face and crack one eye open in the face of the overhead fluorescents. If your vision wasn’t already blurry from all the time spent reading, this stupid decision likely would’ve blinded you. Thankfully, your eyes still work well enough to look over at Junhui.

Where Junhui was, rather.

You blink, dumbfounded. You didn’t see or hear him leave, which begs the question: were you too locked-in to hear his goodbye, or did he slip past you like Casper the Selflessly Helpful Ghost? You don’t know when it was that he even left, or why it is that you’re frowning now for the first time in six hours.

You reach for your phone to text him and ask. It’s in your hand before you realize that you don’t have his number and back in your pocket before you feel yourself truly start to pout. Although he was putting in unpaid labor on your behalf, you’d gotten the impression that he was enjoying himself. You were, anyway.

Deciding that you can manage lonely better than hungry, you force yourself to sit up, then to your feet. Without bothering to put your shoes back on, you step over the paper fortress you’ve spent all night building and shuffle off with heavy eyelids towards the door.

Someone in this office has to have snacks, whether they’d be okay with you sniping some or not. You cross your fingers while you head for the breakroom and hope for a nice, unexpired yogurt, at the very least. Maybe a leftover packet of oyster crackers if you’re lucky – ones that aren’t stale if you’re especially so.

Before you can step foot into the breakroom, a sudden, muffled shout snaps you out of your famished, fugue state.

“Hot!”

Your gaze snaps from the floor to Junhui, who stands in front of you with both of his hands full. His eyebrows now occupy the space immediately below his hairline; his eyes are wider than you would’ve previously thought humanly possible. Relief splashes over you. If you’re being honest, it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the two steaming bowls of buldak ramen you just narrowly avoided crashing into.

With two, paper-wrapped pairs of chopsticks held between his teeth, Junhui can’t say much of anything. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Ih ooh mih meh?”

“What?” You snort.

Realizing how truly useless that question is, you reach up and carefully pluck the chopsticks from his mouth. A heart-shaped smile takes their place.

“I asked if you missed me,” he simpers. “I told you I’d be right back.”

You blink twice, quickly. 

Did he?

He jerks his head in the direction of the conference room. “C’mon. You’re hungry, and I’m burning through my epidermis.” 

As soon as you side-step out of his way, Junhui takes off at a laughable pace, footsteps measured and careful to avoid sloshing hot soup as he goes. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from telling him how much he looks like those sprint-walkers turning laps at the local mall. All he needs is a tracksuit.

When you finally catch up to him, you find that he’s already set both bowls onto the table and pulled up a chair. One chair. You open your mouth to ask him about this, but he senses your question coming and waves it away with his hand.

“There’s only ten minutes left to file your Witness and Exhibit List,” he points out. 

You don’t doubt him enough to check your watch, but you’re surprised to learn that he’s kept track of your deadline, even when you haven’t. Both of you move at once, nearly colliding a second time on your respective routes to your laptop.

Oh.

That single chair is for you.

“Seriously, eat,” Junhui urges. “I’ve got this.”

He sits down on the floor and hauls your computer into his lap without another word. You can’t seem to move, though. You simply stand there, watching him, and try to fight the very unexpected urge you suddenly feel to cry.

In fact, you’re still standing there when he calls out to you without looking up. “Case parties and who else?”

“The fertility –” You swallow thickly then clear your throat. “The fertility doctor, Eve Nguyen. She’s testifying to the in vitro hell my client put herself through while her husband was withholding the truth about his vasectomy from her.”

Junhui types furiously as you talk, face scrunching up in disgust without turning away from your screen. 

“Her therapist, too: Phoebe Miller. She’ll testify to the impact of the hormone treatments on Ms. Al-Hamin’s mental health, and the sheer amount of time she spent sobbing on Ms. Miller’s couch when she finally found out about her shitbag husband’s useless balls.”

“Eat,” Junhui urges again, more emphatically this time. He gestures with his head to the table, where the ramen he made for you is still waiting. “I mean it. I’ll figure out a more court-appropriate way to phrase shitbag husband’s useless balls.”

You do as he says and sink down into the chair he pulled out for you, pulling the food toward you eagerly. Thankfully, he doesn’t glance over at you to confirm that you are in fact eating. Though you’ve bonded quickly in this little trench of yours, he doesn’t yet have the kind of security clearance a person would need to see you scarf down noodles with reckless abandon. 

Maybe eventually the two of you will get to a point where he can perceive you unhinge your jaw like a snake just to devour a meal. 

Today is not that day.

Without needing to be asked, Junhui switches his focus to the stack of numbered exhibits to his left. As he thumbs through them, he adds each one to your Exhibit List in order, then quickly shuffles the one he’s identified to the bottom of the stack. He does it all so effortlessly that he finishes that task before you’ve finished your food. 

Unfortunately for you, that means he looks up in time to see the massive, final bite you stuff into your gaping maw. It’s not disgust that you’re met with, though. It’s something soft, a smile that’s entirely present in his eyes. You freeze and thaw at the same time, not giving a shit that those things should be mutually exclusive.

“Do you want to look this over before I e-file it?” 

You shake your head, mouth too full to tell him that you trust him. Setting the empty cardboard bowl down on the tabletop, you offer him a thumbs up instead, which makes him laugh; then a finger-heart, which makes him laugh harder.

Although he could, Junhui doesn’t stand up right away. He goes right back to typing, throwing you for a loop. 

“Hey,” you say. When he doesn’t stop, you do your best to mimic his softly commanding voice. “Eat.”

He shakes his head. When he speaks, he sounds a thousand miles away; too focused to be fully present. “I’m already over here. I might as well file these subpoenas.”

Now, you really want to cry.

“I don’t even know how to thank you.” You laugh to hide how close to tears you are. “Seriously. I don’t think I’m the kind of person who’d stay this late to help someone, let alone someone I hardly know.”

Junhui presses down on the trackpad, definitively hitting submit on the last of your work for the night. He closes your laptop, sets it back down on the box to his left, then turns to you.

“I think you would,” he disagrees with a gentle shake of his head. “Besides, I can’t say that I hardly know you anymore. I got paid for my labor with lore.”

You snort out a laugh. The buldak sauce lingering in your throat burns your sinuses, prompting you to close your eyes tightly and laugh even harder. When you reopen your eyes, it’s impossible to tell whether the tears on your lash line are steeped in mirth, spice, or bone-deep gratitude.

“Don’t say that like it’s just compensation,” you warn.

Junhui tilts his head to the side, his stare innocent and not at all challenging. “Isn’t it?”

Outwardly, you roll your eyes. Inwardly, there’s a war amidst the butterflies in your stomach; the majority love the way he looks at you when he’s perplexed, while the rest scream not to fall into the same old trap for the millionth year in a row.

You force a change in subject lest you start to choke on all the honey dripping from your eyes. 

“How about you actually eat this ramen you made while I clean up the mess I made of this room?”

Junhui sighs like he’s truly put-upon. Nevertheless, he holds one hand out to you, silently requesting that you haul him to his feet. Figuring it’s the very least you can do, you oblige. He’s towering over you in no time, shooting you a tiny, thankful smile that sends your brain into a tailspin.

He eats, and you busy yourself with the numerous trip hazards around him: first, shuffling your case files and boxes to the side of the room, then wheeling both Junhui and his chair back where the latter belongs. He protests all the while — not because you scoot him without his consent, but because you wave off every single suggestion he makes about waiting until he’s done so he can help.

“You’ve done enough!” You grunt as you forcibly drag the table back into place. “There’s above and beyond, and then there’s you — way past that.”

His cheeks go pink while he goes quiet. You bravely decline to stare at that dusty rose color and instead hop foot to foot while you tug your boots back on.

“I feel awful that you’re going to get, like, five hours of sleep before you have to come back here. Do you have —”

You lose your balance and the rest of that sentence, but you gain Junhui’s hands on your upper arms, preventing you from falling over entirely.

“— court in the morning?” You supply breathlessly, a little too shocked by his quick reflexes and concerned eyes to function.

Junhui waits for you to let go of the back of your boot and regain your footing before peeling his hands off you and shoving them quickly into the pockets of his coat. His response comes a bit clumsily, though you don’t have much room to talk.

“Nope,” he says, shaking his head and shrugging. “My schedule is pretty light this month, actually.” Then, he smiles sheepishly. “Especially compared to yours.”

Eyes narrowing playfully, you snip, “Don’t brag, Wen Junhui. It’s uncouth.”

He pauses for a second then asks, “Is it couth with you if I walk you out?” 

Your jaw damn near drops. His response is so stupid, so hopelessly devoid of rizz despite the beat he took to think of it, and yet you’re powerless in the face of it. 

This man is a loser; and even though there are a million Human Resource-related reasons why you shouldn’t, you kind of want him.

No, you do want him.

Badly.

You swallow that burgeoning need like a shot, then you let out a measured, cooling breath. 

“I’ll allow it,” you sniff.

The subsequent walk to the elevator, as well as the ride down, aren’t quiet. You’re grateful, but you can’t take credit; Junhui keeps the conversation going easily, notwithstanding your distinct lack of input. 

If he notices how quiet you’ve gone, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Just the same, if he notices how intently you watch him while he talks, he gives you the benefit of the doubt.

Before tonight, it never really occurred to you how pretty he is. Of course, you haven’t been blind. Your few passing encounters clued in you in that he was good-looking, at least from a distance, but he’s something else entirely when he stands as close to you as he is now. You can’t even pretend to look anywhere else.

No matter how many sharp angles he has — the high bridge of his nose, the L-shape of his jaw, and the peaks of his cheekbones — there’s softness to balance it out. You see it in the heart-shaped curve of his mouth when he smiles; the faint freckle directly above it; and the cat-like, slow blink when he occasionally glances down at you. It’s present in the almost breathy tone of his voice, the one that makes it sound like he’s reaching you through some dreamlike haze.

But then you realize how fucking stupid it is for you to look at anyone the way you currently are, let alone a co-worker.

You made a pact with yourself after breaking up with Mika to keep to yourself for the foreseeable future — to protect yourself from the series of unfortunate romantic events you can’t otherwise seem to avoid. For eight months, you’ve stuck to it, even though you’re lonely. It’s been working, too. Nobody’s been able to shatter you because you haven’t given anyone the hammer or the opportunity.

And your avoidance isn’t just for your own good, either. Something about you either draws shittiness out of people or grows it where none existed before. Everyone you’ve dated in recent years was fine until they got too close; they all seem to be better off now that they’ve gotten away from you. In fact, if your social media creeping has taught you anything, it’s that Mika is the only one of your exes not happily in a relationship.

The pattern is too significant at this point to be a coincidence, and though you try to pass it all off as shitty luck, you’re the common denominator amidst all these disasters.

Shouldn’t you be held accountable for that?

“Look alive, sunshine.”

You snap back to attention with a jolt.

Junhui stands in the opening of the elevator with his hand on the frame, actively preventing the door from closing on you. You didn’t hear the bell go off when it opened; you have no idea how long you’ve been standing there, zoned-out stare fixated on the floor.

He sees what must be a bewildered expression on your face and laughs. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes open? I apparently do that sometimes, too.”

“No, I —” You shake your head while you start to explain, but then your brain stops buffering. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I didn’t say anything. Out you come!”

You let Junhui usher you out of the elevator, but as you do, you crane your neck to look up at him with unabashed wonder. “Like a prey animal?”

He holds his left index finger up to his lips to silence you, then goes as far as actually shushing you. The tips of his ears peek out from his wavy hair, bright red against the dark.

“Like a little bunny?” You tease, tugging at the hem of his coat.

He rolls his eyes, though no part of him seems annoyed in the slightest. He doesn’t even move away from you. Instead, he rebuts you while lingering at your side, “No.”

You take your fist and rest it on top of your head with your middle and index fingers extended upward, smiling brattishly while you wait for Junhui to look back over at you.

His gaze is locked on the door ahead, however. He raises his arm and points, drawing your attention. “What is that?”

The second you see it, you drop your head back and groan with everything you’ve got. “Fuuuuuuck.”

That would be the security gate, which the building security staff lowers over the front doors when they leave for the night. It’s electronic and can be easily opened with a passcode — which you don’t have.

“Oh, my god.” You shove your face into your palms. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry. I completely forgot about the fucking gate. I don’t even know what time they close it.”

“There’s a pin pad over there.”

You can’t see him, but you’re sure he’s pointing.

“You’ve worked here for a while. They gave you the code, right?”

You will yourself to shrink, to turn into a speck of dirt on the floor and be promptly kicked away. If he can’t see you, he can’t hate you for getting him locked in the goddamn building after donating hours of his time to help you.

Oh, you fucking clown.

Swallowing harshly, you whisper, “I’ve never stayed late enough to need it. I’m seriously so sorry. Technically, we can get out through the emergency fire exit, but that will —”

“— Set off all the alarms and sprinklers,” Junhui correctly assumes, prompting you to nod with your head still buried in your hands.

Silence creeps in then and settles over the two of you, suffocatingly thick like a fire blanket. It’s fitting, given how badly embarrassment burns your cheeks. You want nothing more than to curl up and die — right here, where security can find you in the morning and atone on their knees for trapping you like a rat.

But then Junhui laughs — really, truly, deeply laughs — so hard that you feel him momentarily double over at your side.

You part your fingers and peek over at him through the gaps. With his eyes screwed shut, the mirthful tears have nowhere to go except the far corners of his eyes. They streak down his temples, glowing a hazy shade of blue due to the colored security lamps overhead. 

“I’m sorry.” His apology comes out squeaky on the tail of a wheezing laugh. “No one should have to spend this many consecutive hours with me. God, you were so close to freedom.”

You buy into the bit, rather than admit to the tiny thrill spinning dizzy circles in your brain. “It is a tremendous burden, yes. Of all today’s trials and tribulations, you will be my undoing.”

Junhui wipes his cheek, then glances over his shoulder at the elevator. He stares at it thoughtfully for a moment, gears turning, before he turns back to you with his head tilted sideways. 

“If I can bother you for a little while longer, I think I have a way to pass the time.”

In the far corner of the conference room sits a bar cart, weighted down with more bottles and glasses than is even remotely necessary for a place of business. Artfully curated for trial and settlement victories, it boasts at least six different kinds of liquor. Each one is more expensive than the last.

“You sure this is a good idea?” You ask, gesturing to the bottle of gin in Junhui’s hand.

He can’t make heads or tails of your hesitation. You strike him as the type to apologize later, rather than seek permission first. Even if his assessment of you is wrong, he knows without a doubt that neither Zavier nor Jaein would ever draw a sword on their most objectively successful associate. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks, tone laden with amusement. “You’re the reason we have this cart in the first place.”

You shoot him a warning look that lacks heat. He hopes you don’t intend to rebut him; there’s no need to be humble, especially when what he said is true. Without you, there’d be a hell of a lot less to celebrate around here. 

Come to think of it, the only thing more impressive than your trial record is the long list of happy client reviews that come up in internet searches.

Not that Junhui has Googled you.

Okay, not that he’s Googled you more than twice.

He twists the cap off the bottle and pours matching amounts in two glasses, keeping his eyes focused on his ministrations instead of on you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of getting in trouble. What would Tom Santi think?”

Two seconds after he adds a splash of tonic, your hand appears from his peripheral vision and grabs the nearest glass from its spot on the edge of the cart. When Junhui’s eyes travel down the length of your arm and up to your face, he spots the innocent, bewildered way you’re blinking back at him.

Cotton-candy sweet, you lilt, “I’m just worried that you can’t keep up.”

You tilt your glass — a silent cheers — before taking a sip, a devilish smile appearing as soon as the cup leaves your lips.

His stomach flips excitedly even though he’s aware that it shouldn’t. There’s a fence of red tape building a perimeter around you, and it’s dotted with hundreds of warning signs: off-limits, trespassers will be prosecuted, etc. 

He needs to get a grip — quickly. Entertaining the idea of you finding him attractive, too, is idiotic in more ways than one, and he knows it. Not only are you astronomically out of his league, but you’re also his colleague. 

Assuming for the sake of argument that you did stoop to his level, you’d eventually come to your senses and realize that he’s nowhere near your caliber. When that inevitably happens, Junhui will still have to work down the hall from you. He doesn’t have the confidence to bounce back from something like that, not since his ex put his self-image in a blender half a year ago.

“Did you fall asleep with your eyes open again, bunny?”

He blinks rapidly, and you come back into focus. You’ve moved from his side since he zoned out. Now, you sit on the edge of the conference room table with your legs knotted, not unlike the way he found you on the floor several hours ago. Though you tease, there’s a distinct hint of concern in your narrowed eyes while you assess him.

Junhui’s instinct isn’t like a prey animal’s at all, but he knows better than to act on it, so he finishes pouring his own drink and recaps the bottle. Rather than put it down, he keeps it in his hand, grabs his drink with the other, and heads off for the door.

“Come with me,” he tells you.

You follow without question, footfalls sounding off quietly behind him as he leads you through the dark back to his office. Before you can get the wrong impression — or the right one, if the circumstances themselves weren’t wrong — he flicks on the lamp near the door and ushers you inside.

You’ve never been in his workspace, just like he’s never been in yours. Your office, he imagines, is as immaculately organized as you seem to be. That said, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had opposing counsels’ severed heads mounted on the wall.

His office, however, has a wildly different vibe. It seems to surprise you, so much so that you freeze halfway inside with wide eyes and a partially open mouth.

“You have kids?”

Apparently, it’s Junhui’s turn to be surprised. He glances over to where you’re pointing and laughs. 

On the wall directly behind his desk is a full collage of drawings and handwritten notes, most of which were done by kids under the age of ten. Though their backgrounds, ages, and abilities vary significantly, they all have one thing in common: they all got really attached to their court-appointed Guardian ad Litem, Wen Junhui.

He shakes his head, although you don’t see him do it. You have your back to him, too focused on reading the various letters to react when he finally speaks. 

“In a way, they’re kind of mine, just not… literally.”

You maintain your respectful silence, as if you’re wandering through a museum exhibit. He watches while you lift a hand and let your fingertips run gently overtop an especially artful tribute from a six-year-old named Iseul.

“Big fan of glitter and googly eyes, that one,” he muses, chuckling softly. “You have no idea how long it took me to clean up the visitation room at the community center when our meeting was over.”

You point to three stick figures, who hold hands in front of a large, grey building. Above them, a gigantic sun fills the corner of the page. It wears black sunglasses, the irony of which seemingly didn’t occur to Iseul.

“Who are they?” You ask.

Junhui points to each person as he explains:

“The — uh —  wonky-looking one with what seems like a bloody neck is me in a red tie. In the middle is the artist herself, Iseul. She took some liberties; in reality, she has all ten fingers and isn’t known to wear a crown. To her right, that’s her foster mom, who she calls ‘grandma’, even though she’s only 45.”

“Is she still with grandma?”

“Yeah, actually.” He grins, unable to help it. “That stately, grey blob behind us is the probate court. We finalized her adoption last month.”

“Cute. I wish my clients would send me celebratory masterpieces,” you hum.

Junhui snorts. “Are you sure you want that?”

He can’t even imagine what kind of shit newly-divorced adults would send you. Nothing cute, he’s sure.

“No, actually. I take that back.” You shake your head and laugh. “I just want them to pay their legal fees on time.”

“You’re really asking for the world, aren’t you?”

You take another sip of your drink, then shrug, smiling impishly. “A nightmare bitch from hell’s gotta do what a nightmare bitch from hell’s gotta do.”

Before he can start ranting about Tom fucking Santi and his shitty opinions, you change focus again and begin to drift towards the bookshelf on the opposite wall. The top half of it is lined with statutory volumes, while the lower half has books and activities for the kids who occasionally come with their parents and caregivers to meet with him here.

You grab a deck of cards off one of the shelves and turn back to him with a vaguely menacing look. 

“You brought me in here so I could beat you, didn’t you?”

“I brought you in here so I could beat you,” he rebuts. 

In the time it takes Junhui to cross over to you, you drop your work bag to the floor, move the two child-sized chairs out of the way, and sit directly on the floor without a second thought. He sits on the other side of the small table and reaches for the deck only for you to shake your head vehemently at him.

“Nope,” you state emphatically, popping the second consonant. “I don’t trust you to shuffle these. You have clearly stated ulterior motives.”

He opens his mouth to argue otherwise but is shut down.

“Despicable,” you tut.

Once again, he tries to defend himself. “Excuse me? Your intentions aren’t any better —”

But you block him, grinning wickedly.

“— I’m a guest here and will not have my ambition questioned, thank you! Now, would you prefer to be destroyed by luck or skill?”

He has the feeling you’re going to destroy him in any and every way, so he says, “Dealer’s choice”, and takes a pointed swig of gin.

You think on this while you shuffle, making a big show out of it with your eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Then your eyes light up to broadcast that an idea has come to you. 

Dutifully, you split the deck between you, doling out one card at a time to ensure the numbers even out. You slide your half over to you, face down, and gesture with feigned impatience for Junhui to do the same.

When he obeys, you look him dead in the eye. “I declare War.”

Four games and three drinks later, all your laughter finally catches up with you. With your abdominal muscles aching and eyes swimming, you tip over backwards and land on your back with a muffled thump.

“Okay, that’s bad, but I still think I can top it,” Junhui states with a shake of his head.

Your head lolls to the side so you can squint up at him properly. Once you catch his eye, you petulantly insist, “No way.”

There’s a flash in his eyes that says challenge accepted. 

You like it.

In fact, you like this side of him: the version that isn’t intimidated by you, that isn’t afraid to be bold. Neither of you is drunk by any means, but your respective masks are off now, and you have gin to thank for introducing you properly.

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this out loud, on purpose,” he starts, then takes a deep breath. “This is perhaps the stupidest way anyone’s relationship has ever ended.”

He sits cross-legged next to you on the floor, perfectly within range. Without sitting up, you swat his knee. “Stop stalling! I don’t have all night.”

You do, but that’s neither here nor there.

“So, the last girl I dated had this… kink, I guess? Where she wanted to tell me she loved me during sex. We’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks at that point, but I figured, why not? What’s the harm?”

Your eyes widen. “Famous last words.”

“See?” He snaps his finger and points at you, grateful to be understood. “That’s the thing. She dumped me not long after that because things were —” The reveal comes with air quotes. “— moving too fast.”

You set your glass down somewhere above your head. Even though it’s empty of liquor, melted ice spills onto the carpet. You ignore the mess you’ve made and throw out both fists, thumbs down. “Boo!”

“Thank god I didn’t like her much,” he sighs.

“You dog.”

Junhui levels you with a playful glare, so you withhold further jokes and simply ask, “What was wrong with her, other than the attachment issues?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. In fact, he takes his time in finishing the last few sips of his drink, then he sets the empty glass down on the table. Unburdened, he lowers himself onto his back next to you with one bent arm underneath his head. From there, he concentrates on the ceiling above.

“It wasn’t her so much as us.”

“Oh?”

Junhui heaves a sigh. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like there needs to be some sort of announcement during law school about how fucking hard it is to practice law and date.”

He’s not wrong. 

Your career has impacted every single one of your relationships, no matter how hard you try to keep them separate. You’ve never figured out how to manage it — to split yourself successfully between two spheres, both of which demand one-hundred percent of you. 

None of your other attorney friends have ever brought this up, though, leaving you to feel like the broken one.

Still staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, he fills the silence you’ve left. “I don’t think most people get it, you know? Not that they should have to — nobody should accept something they’re not comfortable with — It’s just hard to make things work with someone who doesn’t understand what this is like. What it costs.”

You’re well acquainted with that massive fucking toll.

The struggle to find community in an inherently adversarial system, the second-hand trauma that comes with managing the worst moments of people’s lives, the burnout, and all the shitty coping mechanisms these things lead to if you’re not careful.

You don’t need to speak on any of this now, though. For the first time in an abysmally long time, you’re sitting with someone who doesn’t need an explanation.

Junhui, however, seems to interpret your silence as discomfort. You don’t blame him. He still hasn’t noticed the heart-eyes you’ve been staring at him with since he started talking, so he has no idea

“Ah, nuts. I’ve made things too serious.” He screws his eyes shut then yells, “Aaaah!” 

You crack up, fully and immediately, which only prompts him to do the same. Never has there ever been a loser so endearing. 

Turning his head now to look at you, he urges with a grin, “Quick, say something stupid!”

And goddamn, if the first thing that comes to mind isn’t exactly that…

“Kiss me.”

Junhui doesn’t react, save for the grin slowly disappearing off his face. He doesn’t even speak. For a moment, all he does is stare right back at you, straight through the full-body cringe you’re experiencing.

Fuck.

Maybe now’s the time to use that emergency exit, fire alarms and sprinklers be damned. 

You open your mouth, armed and ready to explode into awkward apologies; and you suck in the breath needed to do so, but not a fucking word comes out.

His gaze shifts from your eyes, to your lips, then back again. The expression he wears all the while looks something akin to tortured — but you’re clearly batshit insane, so your judgment is questionable at best.

A beat passes again in silence. You’re ready to crawl out of your skin, an urge that only grows when he finally murmurs, “It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

Terrible. 

Perhaps the worst you’ve ever had, second only to you blurting it out just now. 

You have nothing better to say now, but that’s not what keeps your big mouth shut. It’s the fact that his question doesn’t seem to be directed at you at all. 

Something about that tone of his comes across as rhetorical, like he’s got to work this shit out separately from you.

But he doesn’t stay separate. The hand not being used to prop up his head reaches out and gently encapsulates your chin between his thumb and index finger. His thoughtful eyes narrow, searching yours. 

“Why doesn’t that make me want to any less?”

All at once, your heart skips; your breath hitches. You don’t have an answer to his question, just an inkling that you have as much to gain as you stand to lose. That cost-benefit analysis, coupled with the insatiable need you have to be kissed before you fucking expire, make you reckless.

Leaping past the point of no return, you grab him by the tie and pull him along for the ride.

Any timidness he showed you earlier is forgotten in an instant, replaced entirely by an assertiveness you didn’t know to expect from him. He gets you on your back without resistance, then settles himself above you with his weight balanced on a single hand beside your head and his knees on either side of your thighs. 

His other hand slips to the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss and keeping you where he wants you: well beyond the professional boundaries you’ve both crossed to get here.

You could be embarrassed by how quickly you melt, seep, spill, but your better judgment is discarded alongside your sweatshirt without a second thought. Junhui’s jacket, button-up, and tie are tossed into that same void, not long after.  

Absolutely fucking none of them are missed.

Lost under the warmth of his bare skin on yours, your brain is far too occupied to worry about which articles of clothing ended up where. All you're capable of caring about is his mouth on your throat; his hand between your thighs, slick fingers dragging you slowly out of your mind.

The orgasm his hand steals from you leaves you half-dead, but that doesn’t stop you from clinging tightly to him, begging for more, please, everything.

And that’s precisely what you get, though you shouldn’t be surprised. If this day has taught you anything, it’s that Junhui is synonymous with acts of service.

“Kiss me,” he commands breathlessly with his tip waiting at your entrance. 

You do, eagerly, unaware at first that this is an act of service, too — a distraction, more specifically, to take your mind off of the stretch he brings. Nails pressed into his back, you whimper against his lips and let that pressure melt into something perfect. 

“I can’t tell if you’re sleeping or not,” you whisper.

His eyelids may feel like lead, and you look like a dream, but Junhui is wide awake, laying half-dressed at your side. 

Of course, you knew this when you asked. You keep opening your eyes to look at him secretly only to find him watching you, amusement growing each time he catches you.

Even though his voice is rough from exhaustion, he musters the strength to tease you, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“My co-worker dicked me down to hell and back, and I’m recovering, obviously.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t keep up your nonchalance for long. You bury it, along with your face, into his shoulder. When you finally tell the whole truth, it comes out rushed, as well as muffled.

“I spent most of the day wishing it was over. It was nightmarish, right from the jump. All I have to do is fall asleep, and it will be over…” Your shoulders sag under the weight of your sigh, which is delivered warmly against his skin. “But I don’t want that anymore.”

Junhui hums in acknowledgement. He pauses for a moment to consider what to say next, then decides to take a page out of your book. He’s an attorney, after all; he doesn’t ask questions he doesn’t already know the answers to.

“What changed?”

A lot.

“My co-worker dicked me down to hell and back, and I’m recovering,” you repeat. 

Your laugh makes his body move, too. Just the same, the smile he feels forming against his bicep mimics the one on his own mouth. “You know, you keep saying that, but it doesn’t seem accurate.”

This prompts you to pull away from him, prop yourself up on your elbow, and stare at him incredulously. “Excuse me? Need I remind you how many times you just made me cum?”

He makes a big show of counting on his fingers until you swat at him. Then, he gets back to the point: 

“What I meant was, is it co-worker or Valentine?”

You blink, no doubt stunned that someone was finally able to catch you off guard. Junhui doubts that this happens often. If that’s the case, he’ll keep this image of you, surprised into silence, in his back pocket for later.

“I’ll concede that those things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive,” you eventually demur with a haughty shake of your head.

Junhui grabs your hand, pulls it to his mouth, and kisses the back of it. “Your concession is noted for the record.”

So he's a gentleman? You've always thought he might be. He certainly has always spoken to you more kindly than a lot of the other players. Not that the bar is high.

"That's 80 percent of what you talk about, Cheol." And that's Jeonghan.

"Guys—" It takes you a little longer to recognize his voice. Because you rarely hear it at a normal volume. The male cheerleader with the megaphone. His regular tone is far less aggressive. It's almost soft. "I don't think—"

"Of course I fucked her."

Well, miracles don't really happen all that much. Besides, you told your roommate, so this is practically the same thing—

"Why? I mean, were there curves under that big t-shirt and jeans she always wears?" Joshua. You knew he didn't like you. It was only the tone of his voice, but you knew.

"I know Wen wouldn't care either way, but I only fucked her to be sure she had a pussy!"

The laughter is boisterous, loud and piercing.

Oh.

You'd turn around and leave if you could, but you came here for a reason. An errand the coach sent you on even though he could do it himself if he had a mind to.

You wait for the laughter to subside before entering. The silence is almost louder than the hilarity was a second ago.

"Choi," you begin, eyes forward to the empty lockers. It's only the four of them. The showers are occupied with the rest of the players. Small favors. "Coach wants to see you and Hong. To discuss today's game."

You dare to look at them then. Captain, his comrades Joshua and Jeonghan, usually up to mischief. Joshua looks a bit abashed, Jeonghan is holding back laughter, but that's hardly surprising.

The cheerleader is on the other side of you, and you refuse to look at him. Why would you care about his opinion? He's not even a part of the team. Barely.

Seungcheol nods at your summons, smirk curling at his lips as Joshua passes by you toward the offices. Your one night stand pauses next to you, saying your name low and tantalizing. Or it would be if you hadn't overheard what you'd overheard.

"Good to see you."

You raise your eyes to his (he's stupid tall). You might want to yell or even cry, but you haven't spent most of your life around men who think they know more about baseball than you to not hide your feelings successfullly.

And your blank expression is your absolute best weapon.

He falters for a second before following Joshua down the hall and away from you. When you go to pick up a discarded helmet and bat (you think it's Vernon because it usually is), you mistakenly look over to Jun who is seated on the bench, eyes on you. When your eyes meet, he tentatively smiles at you.

Does he think you're amused by all this?

Your eyes narrow (so much for the blank expression) and you quickly leave the locker room with your head held high.

You remember the first game. It felt like years since you watched a game live without being on staff. You weren't working with the team yet, your advisor was still trying to convince the athetic director that it contributed to your study and help to offset your tuition (your mom was grateful for that even if she never said so directly).

You bring along Binna, who isn't enthusiastic. Your new roommate prefers the theatre department, and spends most of her time in the art studio (you have no idea why she paired with you), but she likes going out and trying things.

A baseball game is one of them.

"I'm going to be so annoying," she prempts as you sit. "I know nothing about how this works."

You laugh. "It's okay. I know too much, so you'll probably be annoyed at me for explaining too much."

The game hasn't begun yet, but you're bringing a plate of dumplings and sodas for you and Binna to split. You glance to see that the cheerleaders have made their way to the top of the dugout. The image barely makes an impact on you, two female cheerleaders and a male leader (complete with megaphone), starting with chants and cheers to get the crowd revved up for the game.

You can't imagine that it's easy to do that with college kids. Especially on a hot nearly summer day.

"I know that guy," Binna says the moment to plop back down beside her.

"Hmm?" You offer her the plate of dumplings and she grabs one.

"The cheerleader guy…he's a second year. He's…um, he's besties I think with the TA in my Drawing I class."

"The hot one?" You're quoting her because you were not enrolled in any art class, so had never seen an Art TA, let alone an attractive one.

"Shut up. Yes." She squints at the cheerleaders. "That's definitely him. Jin or Jun or something. He's modeled for us."

"Naked?"

"No." She hits your arm, laughing. "Not yet."

You shake your head, eating a dumpling and settling in to watch the game. You occasionally look away from the field to the cheerleaders, but despite doing more than chants and call-and-response (he does a backflip and you're impressed), you dismiss them as pretty and on-rhythm.

It took some finagling but after producing a letter of reference (and a phone call that you begged your high school's baseball coach to make), you found yourself as a freshman, working alongside the equipment manager for the university's baseball team (mascot!!).

Nang Duho showed you the ropes reluctantly. You sensed the lack of enthusiasm and general distrust (because you were a girl? because you were young? because you wanted to do this kind of work?), but it wasn't the first time you'd run into the attitude.

You'd survived high school after all.

Once Nang realized you were authentically interested, he warmed to you. You think he liked being called seonsaengnim, especially since the players more often than not called him 'ahjussi' or just Nang-nim. It didn't take long for him to give you the bulk of the maintenance, the bats, the gloves, the cleats. You preferred that over laundry, even though you couldn't avoid that, especially when his back acted up.

You remember how the players watched you on your first day. Similar distrust and skepticism. You pushed the rolling laundry cart while each player dropped in his uniform. They seemed to be waiting for you to blush or avert your eyes at the exposed skin. You didn't stare, but you didn't blush either. Granted that you could appreciate eye candy, you weren't that flustered with naked torsos or legs. After years of putting up with high school players, you were pretty much desensitized.

"Oh…I do my own."

It's a soft voice. Not quiet persay, but it makes you think of a stuffed animal, snuggly and huggable.

Strange thought about a voice.

"You do your own…" you trail off as you look at him, and his uniform. He's handsome, most of the guys seem to be, but like his voice, his good looks seem softer. Warm brown hair, wavy and striking eyes.

"Jun's our resident cheerleader," the player next to him says cheerfully, knocking shoulders with Jun (?). Jun smiles, bright like the sun, nearly matching the player next to him.

You look at the long pants and top, same colors as the baseball uniforms. "Does it need special treatment?"

The cheerleader shakes his head. "No, but—"

"Toss it in. It's fine."

He blinks at you, as if he thinks you'll change your mind.

"Thank you," and tosses it with the rest of the uniforms. He turns back to his nook, giving you a glance at a small tattoo along his right shoulder blade. You can't distinguish it (something with whirls and script - pretty) and you've already stared too long.

You continue.

When you stop the cart by a senior player, Park someone, he says something oh so clever about laundry and the fact that you're female. You blink at him before pushing the cart toward the other side of the locker room. There's some guffaws and snickers.

It's not new. You don't like it, but it's not new.

"It's only because Park can't do his own laundry and still has to go home on the weekends so his Eomma can do it for him."

You snap your head to the new voice. Handsome, deep-set brown eyes, messy black hair. He's smiling with unbelievably rosy lips.

"Seungcheol," he says to you.

You nod, unsure how to respond other than to give your name. The broad-chested player, shirtless, drops his uniform into the cart before winking at you.

He repeats your name. "Pretty."

It's a miracle that you get out of that locker room without flushing (but it happens the moment you're safe.)

If you didn't love baseball so much, you might have quit after that eavesdropping experience from hell. But not even Choi Seungcheol, current captain in your second year of university, can dull the beauty of watching a baseball streak past the fence, or Chan's incredible catch in left field against NCT's hardest hitter Mark Lee.

You love the game. Your mom told you that your father had often played the game on the radio, holding up the speaker right next to your mom's swollen womb. She'd found out she was pregnant when the Korean Series was in Game Seven, and your father was convinced it was a sign of future greatness.

Was there disappointment when you were born a girl? A little. But Korea had a fantastic women's softball team, so you weren't out of the running as of yet.

However.

When you were six and had been 'playing' tee ball for two years, you didn't need your father to break the news to you that it was a delusion to hope to play in high school, college, or professionally. You knew it by your coach's expression every time you swung and missed for the tenth time, every time you tried to steal a base (not allowed in tee ball), every time you threw your cap to the ground to 'discuss' the ref's call with the ref. You knew that even at age six, you should do better, that your motor skills should have better capabilities.

You knew.

Perhaps someone else would have chosen a new direction, a new sport, hobby or passion. Your mom took you to dance lessons, sat you with a piano teacher, started you early on cram school.

You tolerated these deviations a little. You weren't exactly a rebellious child. But you were stubborn. You indulged your mother but you always ended up back where you belonged.

Baseball.

By the time you were at university, you had cemented your career path into the realm of sports management. The advisor stuck with you brought up several other options, based on your exam scores, but you denied, politely, each one.

"Why did you take it?"

"I thought Poetry would be easy. I mean, they're short, not long novels, right?" You know it's a dumb excuse, but you really didn't think it'd be this impossible. Having a 200 level literature class required for your minor in communications is heresy in your opinion. But your academic advisor shows you no mercy.

Not that you expected it, but one can hope.

Binna (you're still surprised that she wants to keep rooming with you after first year) shakes her head at you.

"You can't drop it."

"I know. They lulled me into a false sense of security starting with Robert Frost and Yun Dongju at the beginning."

"Go to the tutoring cener, they probably can help you."

"Ugh," you groan and let your head thump onto your dorm desk. "I hate looking stupid."

"You don't look stupid. Your grades say you are stupid."

You throw a pencil at her as she laughs.

When you enter the Art building, you do so with caution. You pass fellow students, some probably your age and year, and yet there is nothing in common. Their style, the way they talk, how they carry a sketchpad and fancy pencil in hand…nothing like you with your one bag that carries your laptop and musculoskeletal text book (because taking classes for sports medicine was also a terrific idea on your part).

Binna had wanted to go get a bite together and study after her painting class, so here you were. In unfamiliar and terrifying territory.

Class should be over, but you don't see your gregarious roommate anywhere. You pop your head into the studio to see the back of her head, in front of someone you don't know. But the way you can tell how fast she's talking and general vibrating of her body, you can guess who it is.

Minghao, the gorgeous art TA.

"Binna?" You take one timid step into the room, the smells of paint and some kind of cleaner accosting your nose. You sneeze then furtively look around to see if anyone is offended by your unbelonging presence.

Your roommate hears your sneeze, not her name (figures) and turns before grinning.

"Hey!" She waves you over and you wonder why people feel the need to include you in conversations when you have nothing to contribute. She loops her arm once you're in striking distance. "Minghao, this is my roommate."

The TA nods at you, face not really welcoming, but not repulsed either.

"Wait, that reminds me. She's failing Poetry and I was wondering if you knew anyone who might wanna help her out?"

You might kill Binna.

"I'm not failing," you mutter.

"Close enough. Most of your friends are humanties and arts, right?" Binna is solely focused on Minghao and you can't fault her for making use of anything to keep talking to her crush. You just wish it wasn't you and your lack of academic prowess.

Minghao tilts his head to the side as though pondering Binna's uncalled-for request.

"Actually…" he trails off when someone comes from the other side of the room. You had only noticed the easels, the visual cacophony donning the walls of current and past students' artistic expressions. But there's a curtain that separates the main part of the classroom from what looks like an alcove, an office space perhaps for the professor.

But it's not the professor pushes aside the curtain and walks out.

It's the cheerleader, Jun.

You glance away, embarrassed to be a part of this conversation now with someone from your baseball world. Even if you and he rarely interact or speak. He always says thank you when you gather his uniform, but there's no reason for the assistant equipment manager to make conversation with the cheer team.

If you had to tell the truth, you were intimidated by Jun, Raon and Dohee (his counterparts). People that pretty tended to be unwelcoming to people like you, so you avoided as a precaution. Raon and Dohee never left their uniforms for you to launder and you never sought them out to offer.

And you've never forgotten that laughter.

"I was gonna say that Jun's solidly a Literature major. He likes poetry."

"It's a minor," Jun says, wrapping his arm around Minghao's shoulders casually.

"Not the way you take each and every class offered."

"They're fun." Jun smiles winsomely at his friend who huffs at him, but it's goodnatured, you can tell. There's an ease between them that tells of years of friendship, even if they're both only third years.

"Sure they are," Minghao answers easily. Jun winks at him, coy and flirtatious before turning to you.

"Hi there."

You wave, like an idiot.

"You two know each other?" Minghao asks.

"She's on staff. With the team."

Minghao nods and you wonder, as an artsy person, what he thinks of your sports bent. You also appreciate that Jun says nothing about you doing his laundry. You do much more (equipment manager includes all matter of bats, gloves, helmets etc), but it seems that's the only thing the players ever say about you (That's a bit unfair to several members of the team, but for generalization purposes, a laundress is basically what half or more of the team sees you as).

"I can help…if you want. I took that class and the prof likes me." Jun is smiling at you, practically the same smile he uses on his friend.

Why?

"Uh…I wouldn't want to put you out."

Binna pinches your side and heavens favored, you do not externally show the jolt it gives you.

"She'd be so grateful. As would I, who has to hear her tangents about how none of it makes sense more often than you'd expect."

You think about pinching her back, but she would not handle it gracefully and bring about all the attention to your 'abuse.'

"It's not problem." He slips his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans that hang on for dear life. You force your eyes from the sliver of skin showing between hem and waistband. "Give me your number, I'll text and we can set up a time. What poem are you working on now?"

You shrug because you do not remember, handling his phone so you don't get your fingerprints on it (you feel grubby next to these three: Binna in her wrap dress that should seem too formal for class but her painted shoes make it work, Minghao in black ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but with a bandana tied in a belt loop and long hair pulled-half back—he looks like a sixties beatnik artist, and Jun in those low hanging jeans and t-shirt that looks like it shrunk in the dryer). You type your number in, hoping no one notices that you delete a couple times, highly anxious so you can't remember your number. They're all chatting about something that you can't follow when you hand his phone back.

"Thanks," you manage to get out. Jun's smile widens and except for when he's leading the chants, you've never seen him like this. In the locker room, he's subdued, quiet, almost unnoticeable among the larger personalities (and egos) of the players.

It's a nice smile.

"It'll be fun."

"Yeah, Jun loves to share all his useless knowledge."

Jun laughs before clacking heads with Minghao who gives him an unimpressed look (but his eyes are amused).

You tug on Binna's arm, hoping you can make a quick getaway. Your roommate is staring with big ole heart eyes at her TA.

Subtlety is not Cho Binna.

"We'll, uh, see you guys," you mutter, again pulling, this time harder, on Binna's arm.

"Yeah, see ya. Thanks again Minghao, Jun," she effuses, finally coming with you.

You wait until you're way out of earshot:

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"You used my failures as a student to talk more with your crush."

"I did. And I would support you if you did the same." She is unbothered.

"I don't have any crushes."

"Yes, well, that's your issue. Not mine."

After your last crush, you took a firm hold on yourself and decided not to crush again. Certainly not anyone related to baseball.

"I don't even know Jun, he could be a jerk." He probably is.

"He is not a jerk. I've drawn him twice now, and he's really sweet."

You pull up short. "Naked?"

Binna's haughty expression is a facade, you know it, but it still makes you roll your eyes.

"Why would it matter? It's art, not porn."

"It's just weird. If you've seen my soon to be poetry tutor without clothes."

"Would rather see Minghao—" She cuts off laughing when you break away and jog several steps in front of her, effectively ending that line of conversation.

You tap your pencil against the open page of your poetry textbook (still expensive and weighty despite poetry being a 'short' medium), half-looking across the lawn for the baseball cheerleader/poetry tutor.

He'd texted you that very evening about a good time to meet. He was well aware of when baseball practice was, so you couldn't really use that as a fake excuse.

You don't have to like him and he doesn't have to like you for the tutoring to be successful. As long as you don't say anything about that conversation and he doesn't, well, then, it's old news. You just need to pass this class.

Your brain meanders off of your impending tutoring session and onto duties for tomorrow's practice. Mingyu, true to form, stumbled into the only muddy puddle on the field after the rain days ago. You've treated his uniform, but are doubtful that it'll come clean when you wash it.

"Hi!"

You jump (observational skills lacking today it seems) at the super close voice. You barely noticed the shadow he cast across the table you'd commandeered in the quad.

Jun is holding two takeaway cups.

"I got two drinks; a flat white and a pumpkin spice. I like both, so I figure one of those could be your type of coffee."

You're staring at him with your mouth partially open, like a buffoon. It's not entirely your fault. The pink of his tshirt is the brightest pink you've ever encountered outside of the Barbie doll aisle at the toy store. Possibly brighter.

"Do you drink coffee?" he asks, sitting down across from you with grace you envy. Especially with a bag slung over one shoulder and a cup in each hand. "I just assumed—"

"I do, um, thank you. I'll take the pumpkin spice if you're sure."

He sets (presumably the pumpkin spice one) in front of your text book.

"It's completely fine. I promise." His smile's brightness matches his shirt's and you wish you'd thought to bring sunglasses.

"Thanks again. For doing this. I feel like Binna kind of bullied you into it."

"She strikes me as someone who is very…proactive when she wants something," he says easily, sipping his coffee and letting out a satisfied sigh. "Caffeine, nectar of the gods."

"That's Binna. Very…forthright."

Jun's smile turns mischievous. "And she wants Hao."

It takes you a second to realize who he's talking about, Binna only every calls him by his full first name.

"Oh, um…" You don't exactly want to out her if she prefers not to have the rejection option. For all you know, Jun and Minghao might be more than just friends.

"It's not hard to see."

"Does—he know?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Jun chuckles. "He moves as fast as a glacier in personal matters. All he cares about is art, classes, his family, and his friends. In that order." He points to your textbook. "Ready then?"

"I guess." You open the textbook to the most recent poem that you have a quiz on tomorrow. "I appreciate you doing this. I imagine you have enough to do with cheering, the art class modeling, and your own classes."

"We're all busy, arent we?" he says, brushing off your 'thank you.' "You just have to make time. Besides, we're…kinda teammates."

You blink at him. "I suppose. I don't really do much for you or Raon and Dohee."

"You wash my uniform every time."

"That's not impressive." You look down at the poem, eyes going over the words again like it'll make sense.

"I've always admired you."

Your head snaps up from the anthology. You imagine the dumbest expression is on your face, but you can't help it. You never expected to hear that from anyone, let alone him.

"You do? I mean, did?"

"I do." He leans forward, not in a seductive way, but like he enjoys being closer to you. "A lot of people wouldn't want your job. It's not exactly glamorous."

You roll your eyes. "I don't think even glamorous jobs are all that glamorous."

He laughs, a light and breezy thing. It's unfamiliar to your ear. "You have to do their laundry. I know what they smell like after a game. All too well. It's beyond disgusting."

You can't help wrinkling your nose. "I always want to plug my nose with something. I'm kinda desensitized, but some days it's bad."

"But you still do it."

You rest your arms on the open book, half-covering Tennyson. "The uniforms, the bats, the balls, the gloves…all of it needs to be in the best condition."

"So they won't complain? Or blame a bad hit on you?"

You know who he's talking about. It makes you shift in your seat. Early in your time, one of the seniors, now gone, definitely blamed the care of his glove for a fumbled catch.

It hadn't been your fault, but you'd still taken the criticism because sometimes it's easier.

"It's not about them."

"It's not?"

"It's about the game."

He rests his chin in his hand, eyes direct. It's disconcerting how focused he can get. "You really love it?"

No one usually questions this. You're surrounded by baseball players and coaches and staff. Your long-suffering roommate doesn't get it, but has never asked. She assumes it's about the players.

It can be, but not in the way she's thinking.

You nod to his most likely rhetorical question.

"Why?" Okay, so not rhetorical.

"Why?"

"I mean…I get enjoying sports, but you don't really seem interested in our football team or even our state-winning volleyball team."

"I went to a match last year," you mumble. Freshman year had had you attempting to do social things. The campus was full of opportunities to meet people, try new things, and in general be someone new.

The attempt didn't last fall semester.

He's smiling at you, not patronizing or condescending. Like he enjoys whatever you're saying.

"I just like what I like."

He taps your textbook. "And you don't like this?"

You know you're pouting, but you can't help it. "I don't see what this…war poem has to do with me. Or anything I will ever encounter in my life."

"Well," he begins, finally leaning back, but stretching way up revealing more inches of his torso. It's not chilly yet, it's summer's last gasp, but you already anticipate the impending briskness with your baggy long-sleeve sweatshirt. "It is about a battle. But it's more than that." He returns to touching the poem in your textbook. "Look at the numbers. You're good with numbers, right?"

You nod, still skeptical, as you reread about whatever a light brigade is. He hands you a highlighter. It's neon pink.

"Doesn't seem to fit the vibe of the poem."

"I bet Tennyson loved pink," he says easily. "Mark each mention of numbers. What do you notice?"

"It's only 'six hundred'."

"Now look at the words around each mention."

You do so, lips twisted with mild distaste.

"'Left of the six hundred,'" he quotes. "They didn't all make it."

"So?"

"So….how often do you go into a situation, already knowing you're gonna lose?"

"That's stupid."

"Is it? Or is it brave?"

"Stupid."

"So don't play another team that's so much better than yours?"

You sit back and cross your arms. "Playing a better team usually makes you better. But this is war. People die..and…that's stupid."

He doesn't say anything immediately, head tilted to the side, like a cat judging you. "Okay." He points to another line. "Sabres…you know what those are?"

"I'm not stupid. Swords."

"I don't think you're stupid," he says quickly. "Soonyoung would have said it was a tiger."

You laugh, knowing that's exactly what the shortstop would think. "Are you close with the team? I know you have to use their locker room, but I never see you with them other than that."

His smile freezes before dropping. "I wouldn't say close. Some of them are friendlier than others."

"Soonyoung."

"Obviously." He grins, some of the light in his dark eyes returning. "Mingyu. Chan. They're nice."

You hear a lot in the silence. "Not any of the others?"

He meets your eyes. "Sabres…swords, as you correctly named them. Swords against gunners." He indicates line 29.

"Wait, what?" you look back at your textbook. "They didn't have guns?"

"No."

"That's…more stupid."

"That was their orders."

"Screw their orders. They should have ran…um, retreated." You follow toward the end of the poem.

"They do. See the repeated 'Cannon' lines?" He continues when you nod. "Notice the change in directions."

"They're leaving." You huff a sigh. "How'd-you know all this?"

"Well, I've taken this class before. But also…" he pauses, thinking. "I like them? I mean, it just takes time and thought to figure out what's going on. I like doing that. Like a puzzle, or scavenger game. I like trying to figure stuff out, especially when it's not obvious."

"Weird."

His smile is a flash, but it strikes you that it's not as happy as it should be. "I guess."

You want to say something, that 'weird' isn't a bad thing, that you appreciate that he is good at this because you are definitely better off than an hour ago with this poem before he sat down.

But you don't because he's moved on to talking about the last stanza. But you think about the dropped smile after he's left and you're still sitting at the table in the quad. You watched him walk away in those jeans and short hot pink t-shirt for longer than you'd care to admit.

And how his laugh didn't sound like any of the laughter you heard in the locker room that day.

"The words…" you groan. "The words are…not words."

"They absolutely are words. Just not the ones we use now." Jun is laughing at you. You can't blame him because you are being petulant to the extreme. "You know what, just listen, okay? I bet you understand more than you think."

And so he begins to read the fourteen lines by one John Keats. You try to focus, but you zone out a bit. Jun's voice is nice to listen to, not bracing or strident, or combative. It rolls like waves, gentle.

"What do you notice?"

"It rhymes."

He half-grins. "Yeah. What's the scheme?"

"Alternating lines. every four then it changes." You pause, looking over it. "Except the last six?"

"Exactly, which goes against the rhyme scheme for a sonnet."

"Okay, yeah, fourteen lines."

"Other than the title spelling it out, what do you think it's about?"

You stare at it for a lot of seconds. "Honestly? If it wasn't called 'To Sleep' I'd think it was about death. I mean…the whole final line—'casket'."

He nods. "You know Keats died at twenty-five years old?"

"I think I read that in the introduction."

"He also, through his letters, seemed to think he would die young. A lot of his family died of the same disease, tuberculosis. So…maybe it is about death and not sleep. What else makes you think that?"

"Embalmer."

"Good. What about poppy?"

"What about it? It's a flower."

"It's the flower that makes opium, which they used to treat sickness back then."

You stare at him. "That's…that's horrible."

"Yeah, it was the only way they knew how to mitigate the pain." He stares back. "Opium is a downer, meaning is slows things down, whereas something like cocaine is a upper, speeds things up. So opium and sleep and death…"

"All peaceful, but not."

He cocks his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Well, opium might make you slow down, but its deadly, right?"

"Certainly can be and is addictive which doesn't help."

"Sleep can be peaceful, but often not. People have nightmares, night terrors, tossing and turning, just can't rest."

"And death?"

"Its not peaceful. Even if someone goes 'peacefully.'" You even do the air quotation marks with your fingers. "It's not peaceful. It's still loss. And that rips a hole into those who are left."

You don't notice how he watches you while you close the textbook and recap your highlighter (he brought you your own this session, a beautiful serene blue) and start to pack up.

"You okay?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah. I just…I remembered I need to take care of some stuff." You finally meet his eyes. "Thank you for your help. I think I'll be okay on the quiz next week."

"I think you'll be just fine."

You shouldn't have told Binna that you passed that quiz because now she's got your phone, texting Jun about it and that has somehow elicited an invitation to go out with he, Dohee, Raon, Minghao, and some guys named Seungkwan and Seokmin. All artsy students to your understanding.

"No fucking way."

"Come on. You never hang out with my friends."

"I don't hang out with anyone. Except you."

"Yeah, that's for your therapist to dive into."

"I don't have—"

"But you could," she says and goes to her closet. "Come on. I've been to one party with the baseball team." You wince even though she doesn't mean anything by it. But it was that night. even though that was this past spring, it still haunts you.

Probably because the last sex you had was disappointing and…unfulfilling.

"Wear this." She tosses something at you and you grab it because you don't want to argue, or maybe you want something different.

Who knows?

The bar that you ride to, in an Uber with Binna, is one you don't know, which is unsurprising as you're not a big drinker, even less when it costs you money, but still you've heard enough from classmates and the team to be familiar with names of the local watering holes.

But Cheers doesn't sound like a place anyone of your age would readily spend time socially.

"It's great. It's where most of the art students hang out. I've been hoping for an invite."

"I won't fit in."

"Enough alcohol, everyone belongs."

True words.

Binna easily gets a pass from the bouncer who doesn't seem to even care that you might not be of age (you are, but still). Inside are splashes of color, music you've never heard (but it's nice and not too overpowering), and people.

So many people, but despite that, it's not impossible to keep up with Binna who heads to the bar. She orders two shots of something. You try to decline, but she isn't dissuaded. You knock it back and ask the bartender for a lemonade as she gets something you've never heard of. When it comes out, you take a sniff since she offers you a sip and you think the alcoholic fumes singe your eyebrows.

Binna plans to party.

"I'll stick to the lemonade."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest. She grabs your hand and drags you away from the bar. You see some familiar faces, or are they just familiar from the alcohol burning in your stomach and through your body, in the flashing lights? You don't know but you're happy to let Binna lead this race.

"Found you!"

Jun jumps up to hug Binna; a tight, real hug before he turns to you.

You have no idea how she found them. Maybe she does have Minghao radar because there he is, leaning against the wall, looking oh so artsy and broody. He's listening to a guy you don't know, jabber on about something, incredibly expressive. You see Raon and Dohee sitting on a couch with another unknown guy, all laughing.

It shouldn't be intimidating, but you are tempted to run home.

"Hi."

You look up at Jun, decked in long sleeve shirt, the neck of it defines the word 'plunging'. His hair, that you've never considered long, is half pulled up and he's wearing glasses.

"Hi," you remember to reply. He's grinning widely at you. You wonder if he's drunk to be so happy to see you.

"I knew you'd do well."

What? Oh the quiz. Binna's excuse for all this.

"I wouldn't have without your help."

He leans closer and you repeat your words. You're sure the flush on his face is from alcohol and the warm room, not your gratitude.

"You look nice," he says, glancing at the skirt and top Binna forced on you. It's by no means too revealing, but as you live in work out clothes, or your staff uniform, it's practically a costume.

"Binna," you explain.

He grins again and clinks plastic cups with you.

"You look good, too," you blurt out, unable to look away from all the collarbone you can see. Why is that more affecting than those cropped t-shirts you see him in so much? "You always do," you add in case he takes offense.

"I do? Thank you," he hugs you to his side. If he notices how you freeze at his touch, he doesn't show it. "Come, meet everyone."

You recover though he hasn't let go of you, moving his arm from your waist to over your shoulders. You remind yourself that you've seen him do this with Minghao.

You wave awkwardly at Raon and Dohee, who wave back far more gracefully and excitedly than you did.

"It's so fun to see you out!" Dohee says loudly to be heard above the din of people and music. You shrug in response, unsure of what to say.

"That's Seokmin, he's a theatre major," Jun says, mouth so close to your ear (presumably so that you can hear him) that his breath tickles. You shiver and he tightens his hold. "You won't be cold long," he says before introducing the other guy. "Seungkwan who is Mass Communications and basically never shuts up."

"Fuck you, Wen." Accompanied by a corresponding hand gesture, and a big smile.

Jun blows him a kiss. "If you ever want to meet people, just tag along with him."

"So never do that, got it."

He chuckles at your retort as you sip your lemonade. "Come on…" He leads you to sit at the small table in front of his co-cheerleaders and Seokmin. You're fairly content to stay there, listening to them chat about the university's theatre department (possibly more drama than the baseball team, so that's affirming). Jun doesn't leave your side, seated next to you, arm brushing yours every time he moves or gestures to add to the conversation.

At some point, he taps your empty cup. "I'll get you another. What is it?"

"Just lemonade," you say. "And you don't—"

"Just lemonade." He smiles. "Not a drinker?"

"Not if Binna is going hard." You point toward your roommate who has somehow convinced both Seungkwan and Minghao to go and dance with her on the dance floor. "Seems safer to not."

"Lemonade it is." He takes your cup and walks back toward the bar. You watch him go before turning back to see three sets of eyes on you.

"What? Why…why are we looking at me?" You stutter at the sudden attention.

"Jun was very excited you decided to come tonight," Raon says, smile all-knowing.

"Oh. I mean, I did do well on the quiz because of him."

"That's not it," Dohee interjects. "He likes you."

Seokmin starts to cough. "You just fucking outed him, Hee. Why would you do that?"

"It's so obvious," she laughs. "And it's cute. Like he's the sweetest guy to ever exist—"

"Hey!" But Seokmin's protest is ignored.

"And you're like the most normal person he's ever been into."

"Normal?"

"Yeah, like not high-maintenance, or drama-ful or anything like that." Dohee reaches over and squeezes your knee, casual and reassuring. "You are so much better to have around than Nang-nim. Chan loves you."

Jun plops down at that, holding out the lemonade. You take it and try not to look at him. His friends could be wrong after all.

"Chan loves who?" he asks, offer the other cups of alcohol he purchased.

"Our impressive assistant equipment manager," Raon singles you out.

"That's because you helped him with his batting stance, right? That's why he's hitting better."

You can't help but stare at him now. "How…how did you know that?"

His grin and eyes are too warm. "I was checking something with where we stand on top of the dugout. RaRa nearly tripped and fell off the last time, so I was making sure the maintenance request was actually carried out. Saw you two out there. You were instructing him, weren't you?"

RaRa is such a cute nickname is your first thought. Your second is that you had no idea anyone knew of your impromptu coaching session with Chan when he'd first joined the team. He was a first year, eager to impress, but while his fielding skills were terrific, he lacked at bat.

You noticed, you don't know why no one else seemed to. So one day, when you were searching for a missing glove (Mingyu or Vernon, you can't remember) after practice, you found Chan out in the batting cage, swinging and hitting, but the ball not going as far as you're sure he wanted. So you wandered over and made a suggestion about how he stood. He listened. And he hit better.

It wasn't rocket science.

"I'm not…players aren't supposed to be coached by anyone else. Please don't—" You can't lose your job. What would you do at university if you didn't work on the team?

Study only?

Jun regards you for several moments, eyes dark in the minimal light. You want to look away because he is almost too pretty to look at for long, but you don't; hoping he understands how important it is.

"Lips are sealed."

You let out the breath you were holding. "Thank you."

"Enough talk, we're here for a good time, right?" Raon speaks up, breaking the gaze that Jun has on you. Raon grabs Seokmin by the wrist. "Dancing, darling."

He rolls his eyes but follows her, grabbing Dohee's hand to drag her out as well. Dohee in turn, tries to grab for Jun, but he dodges her hands.

"Finishing this," he shouts as they disappear toward the crowd that writhes and gyrates. He turns to you once they're gone. "Wanna dance?" He sips his drink, eyes lasered on you.

"I…I'm not exactly coordinated. I was a pretty poor tee-ball player." You gulp more of your lemonade.

"Well, that has nothing to do with dancing," he says casually. "Dancing is about looking ridiculous and doing it confidently."

"Confidence is also not my best attribute."

"Bullshit," he retorts, setting down his mostly empty cup to lean closer. You swallow more lemonade. "You walk through that locker room with the carriage of a queen. You are more confident than the rest of us."

"A facade." Maybe that one shot was more tongue-loosening than you thought.

"Fake it till you make it, huh?" His eyes drop once before he stands and offers his hand. "One dance. In celebration of your successful quiz."

"A celebration of your tutoring skills."

He shrugs one shoulder. "I'll dance to that." He takes your hand even as you're standing, about to find a good excuse (restroom maybe?), and leads you away from the safety of the couch and table. You stumble to keep up with his long legs, your eyes dropping to how his pants fit and then you chastise yourself.

You've seen him in less than this even if you weren't meaning to. The locker room was a veritable menu of male bodies of various types and sizes. You've never thought about him like that. Ever.

It's definitely that one shot Binna made you drink.

Your nose wrinkles at the smell of so many people and perfumes, but Jun spins you so you're in a small circle with the people you know. Your eyes find Binna's, who is sporting some moves with Seungkwan, while Minghao watches her passively (or interestedly, it's really impossible to tell with him). Binna is drunk enough that she doesn't seem surprised at your presence in a dance circle (more almond-shaped really).

Seokmin is happily sandwiched between Raon and Dohee, though you'd argue his moves are more impressive than theirs. You didn't know men could move their hips like that.

Jun's hands fall to your shoulders, paused as though waiting. You don't shrug him off, so his hands slide down your arms to your fingers. He takes one and spins you back round to face him.

"I'm really not good at this," you tell him again.

He taps your forehead with his index finger. "Stop worrying and thinking so much. Close your eyes." The last sentence, his mouth is at your ear so you can hear him above the music. You nod and do just that because not looking at him seems like a much better idea than looking at him so close. He lifts your hands to drape them around his neck, his own falling to your hips.

It is easier to move to the thumping bass with your eyes closed. It's easier not to worry about how you might look if you can't see anyone watching.

He says your name, his mouth touching your ear again; you shiver. "You're better coordinated than you think."

You risk opening your eyes to look up at him. The glitter around his eyes and on his cheekbones catch the strobing lights and he looks otherworldly. You forget what he's just said and stare at him for much too long. His smile turns embarrassed and you quickly move in his arms to face the group.

Binna mouths something at you, and you don't really know what she says, but you know you'll hear about it later (you do and it's all about how Jun's hands were on your hips and waist, and how perfect you two looked together; but Binna is drunker than you've seen her so you chalk her observations up to alcohol). The song morphs into another and you move away from the group, miming that you need water. Jun is reluctantly to let of your hand and once you're away from them, from him, you let out a deep breath.

You are never telling Binna that being near Jun makes it hard to breathe.

Can't meet today

everything okay?

sick

You look at your messages for several seconds. Binna pokes you with her bottle of nail polish.

"What's up?"

"Jun's sick."

"Oh that sucks."

You text back: I'm so sorry. Do you need anything?

you're sweet. i'm good. hao fed me.

"Are Minghao and Jun roommates?"

"Yes. Since they were first years. I think the school thought putting two exchange students together would help with the transition to Korean Uni." Binna blows on a polished nail.

"Do you know where they live?"

"Why?" She raises her eyebrows. "Why do you think I'd know that?"

"Really?"

She laughs effortlessly. When you grow up, you hope to be as carefree as Binna seems to be.

"I thought I could bring him some soup. Or something."

Binna stares at you for a few seconds.

"What?"

"Do you like him?"

"What? No. He's…kind of a teammate."

"So you'd do this for anyone?"

"Well…anyone I've exchanged more than five words with."

"Valid." She still doesn't look away. "I do know where they live."

"Of course you do."

When you knock on the door, you have to set down one of the two bags you're carrying. You're actually bending down to pick it up when the door opens and there stands Minghao, bottom half of his face covered with a mask.

"Hi."

He raises an eyebrow. "You here for Jun?"

"Yeah, I figured you couldn't cook for him every meal, so I brought um…soup and other stuff."

You're pretty sure Minghao doesn't hate you, or even dislikes you. You probably don't even enter his mind unless you're right in front of him. But his resting face (mostly eyes and eyebrows due to the mask) is blank with a touch of annoyance. Binna thinks it's HOTTT, but you realize that you like when you can see what a person is thinking or feeling.

Someone who smiles.

"Come in," Minghao steps back and then grabs from a stack on the little table in the entryway. "Wear a mask. No idea what he's come down with, but better safe than sorry."

You take the mask and slip it on as you set your hoarde of 'get better' items on the kitchen counter. It's more a suite than a regular dorm room and you hope you get lucky as an upperclassroom to have an actual kitchenette and living area, tiny as they are.

"He's um…if he's asleep, I can just leave…"

One of the doors past the sagging couch opens and Jun is standing there, looking the most un-Jun-like you've ever seen him. There's a lack of pink, minus his nose being quite red. He's wearing baggy orange sweats that look like they belong to someone taller and wider than him, and a threadbare faded green tshirt.

He says your name, and it's hoarse though delighted.

"Go back to bed, you moron," Minghao monotones. "You'll hate yourself if you get her sick."

"Hey Jun," you begin, walking over with your two bags. "I grabbed some medicine for you, ginger chicken soup, and lots of cough drops. I didn't know what kind you liked, so I got a couple."

He's still leaning on the doorframe, less like a male lead in a romance, and more like someone who might collapse if they let go.

"You…" he starts coughing and you back away from the coffee table and sofa. He leans his head on his arm. He looks miserable.

"I'm guessing you won't make tomorrow's game."

He makes a face, but doesn't speak. He's probably wanting to avoid a coughing fit.

"Will Raon and Dohee be okay without you?"

He shrugs before texting on his phone. Yours pings a second later.

can you watch out for them? sometimes ppl are shit at away games.

"Of course." You watch him a few seconds longer, how his hair is matted to his forehead, damp from sweat and you feel for him.

It's not fun to be sick. Especially away from home. And he is really far from home.

"Feel better…and you know, message me if you need anything else."

He smiles the smallest smile. It's happy, as much as he can be feeling like he does. But it makes something tug in your chest to see it.

He mouths thank you before stumbling back into his bedroom, the door not closing all the way, so you see him flop on his bed, his feet covered in pink socks.

How odd that you've danced, club-danced with him, but seeing his pink socks feels more intimate.

When you turn around to leave, Minghao is watching you.

"Um, if you need anything for him, like if you get stuck here or whatever…uh, let me know? Or Binna?"

He nods slowly, eyes not moving away.

"Okay, see you," you hurriedly say and open the door to leave.

"See you," and he says your name, which you realize is probably the very first time he has. Why does that feel like you have received his approval?

You see out Raon and Dohee once you arrive at the away team locker rooms. Dohee laughs when she opens the door for you.

"You know you don't have to knock. You are one of us."

You know she means your gender, but the 'one of us' phrasing feels especially kind.

"That…I wouldn't want to assume."

She laughs again as you walk in to see Raon straightening her top.

"I just wanted to see if you guys were okay. Without Jun?"

"It's annoying. Neither one of us likes having to used the megaphone, but…" Raon shrugs. "Hao said he was pretty sick."

"I saw him yesterday, he looks like the least Jun-like I've ever seen him."

Dohee and Raon share a look before turning back to you.

"You saw him yesterday?"

"Uh, I went by. We were supposed to have a tutoring session, but he said he was sick."

"So you just went by?"

All of a sudden you feel like you're in a courtroom, on the witness stand. You half-expect to hear 'objection'.

"I brought some stuff…" You feel unequiped to continue. "He asked that I look out for you guys. So…that's all."

They look at each other then at you again and it's inevitable, like an anvil falling in a Looney Tunes episode. You should never have walked in here.

When Jun wakes much much later, there's a number of texts and notifications on his phone. He squints at it for a few seconds, assessing how he's feeling and if looking at a screen will induce any nausea (as it did yesterday).

Honestly, he feels pretty good. Not like, run a lap or two (like he's even want to do that), but not like 'fall across his bed like a fainting Regency woman' either.

He'll call it a win.

There's a knock on his door, but it opens before he can croak out a 'come in'. Hao peers in, still masked.

"Alive?"

"More so than yesterday."

"Did you get the video?"

After being friends with Hao since first year of uni, Jun believes he can read the enigmatic man decently well. It's harder with a mask covering half his face, but the sparkle, slight but there, in his eyes warns Jun that something good or terrible has happened (honestly, knowing Hao for over two years, as roommates, does so little to uncover what the man is thinking).

"Video?" Jun's voice is on par with a life-long smoker's at this point.

Hao plops on his bed, opens his phone and places it right in front of Jun's eyes.

It takes many seconds (his brain is foggy with remnants of illness and medications) for Jun to understand the scene playing out on his roommate's phone. He immediately clocks Dohee and Raon, standing on top the dugout, dressed in their away game uniforms; the motions and choreo so familiar to him. The person to the right of Dohee is Mingyu, who is on the injured list currently for a possible concussion (it didn't happen during the last game, but in the locker room after practice when Mingyu decided to try and film the most recent TikTok dance challenge and failed miserably due to a bench, discarded cleats and Chan doing the dance better; this all occurred before Jun contracted the plague), standing with his arms crossed, staring down the patrons in the seats.

While Mingyu is new to the cheer lineup, that is not the change that shocks Jun the most. No, it's the person in the middle, his normal spot when he's not dying. This person is wearing his uniform top, though the trousers are definitely not his.

"Is that—"

"I got a message from Dohee, you probably have one too, though you've been sleeping."

"I'm in recovery right now."

"Sure," Hao takes his phone back, presumably looking for the message while Jun stumbles to opne his phone and see his notifications.

"It's on the team's instagram page?" Jun says hoarsely. "They never put us on there, or rarely at least."

"Hey Hao, wake up Junnie and tell him his girlfriend might just take his place. She isn't quite the peppy sort, but she does the cheers really well," Hao reads then plays the video again, this time with sound.

Jun's rarely heard you speak loudly, or yell or shout. Sometimes you raise your voice in the locker room to be heard because it's chaos in there, but it's barely more than a normal speaking voice volume.

The megaphone amplifies, obviously, but you are doing really really well. Your movements are stilted, though he doubts you even got the chance to learn them prior to participating in this. But by the end of the video, which has been spliced to include most of the cheers, probably cutting down two hours of footage to a minute, you move much more naturally, showing a little of the rhythm he saw in you the night at the club.

And you're smiling.

At first, it's a forced smile. One he's seen many times. But, probably with the infectious silliness of being flanked by Dohee and Raon, your smile grows, both warmer and in size.

It must be the medication, but he thinks he likes you wearing his uniform top despite it not fitting you in the slightest.

"Why did…" Jun coughs, covering his mouth and rolling in the opposite direction from where Hao sits.

"Why did she fill in your spot? I dunno. Guess you'll have to talk to her." Hao starts out of the room before pausing at the door. "I ordered some chicken and ginger congee from the place in the city."

Jun pushes himself up. "You are the perfect man, Xu."

"Fuck off."

When you walk into the locker room before practice after the away game, the room turns silent. Which never happens, not since you were introduced back in the beginning.

"Um, here to check on any last minute equipment issues? Something we might have missed." You always do this. Come in before practice or a game, a secondary check that even in your and Nang's meticulous surveying the items needed for the players, something could be missed. Sometimes there is nothing. Sometimes a player sees a crack or dent or missing cleat. It's never hostile.

The atmosphere feels hostile today.

"You know we lost," Seungcheol begins, breaking the brittle quiet.

You nod. You might not have been going back and forth with bats and gloves, but you were still very aware of the score and its resolution.

"Why do you think that is?"

You want to answer. You're know that the Boyz were a stronger and younger team, primarily made of up underclassmen who had a lot to prove. Also, the team had been without Mingyu due to the incident with his head and the bench, and that loss would make the team struggle.

But you rightly assumed that the captain's question was rhetorical.

"Because you decided you didn't need to be doing the job you were brought on for. No, you're up in the stands, playing at cheerleader. What the fuck?"

You hear a couple grumbles, echoing his statement.

"Nang-nim was there—"

"Shut it, first year!"

You move instinctively between Seungcheol and Chan who had spoken up. It hasn't escaped your notice that the captain is hard on the baby of the team, who shows immense promise and works so hard. You also know that Chan has the making of being a leader in his own right, leading by example.

He is also, exceptionally more talented than Seungcheol is. You guess the captain probably knows this.

"I cleared my absence from game duties with both the coach and seonsaengnim. I don't see how my not being there contributes at all to the final score."

Seungcheol laughs; and unsurprisingly, Jeonghan and Joshua do as well. It's a mean, mean-spirited laugh; full of poisoned barbs.

"You don't think I couldn't tell the gloves hadn't been properly oiled? My cleats were weak? Were you so excited to be seen as a girl that you forgot your actual responsibilities for the team?" He scoffs. "You're like the worst kind of cleat chaser. In it for the nearness, but can't even offer something in return."

It feels like a punch to the gut. The very idea that anyone would compare you to a baseball groupie. You know that isn't true. You know that most of the team knows that isn't true. You know this, but it hurts anyway.

You are trying to come up with the right response, when you hear someone else come in the locker room.

"Wen, you're back!" Soonyoung would always misread the room and signals, but his happy reaction to Jun returning does distract you for a moment. You turn to see Jun, looking far more healthy than the last time you saw him, though still a bit peaked.

He doesn't go to his cubby but walks up to you, and something in his face tells you that he isn't unaware of the words just pronounced in this space.

"So…captain," Jun begins, standing next to you calmly. "You admit that you need her, but accuse her of being just a 'cleat chaser' when all she does is clean up after all of us, makes sure that you have what you need for every practice, every game. Doesn't make a lot of sense. Did you get hit on the head or something? Might need the team physician to check you out."

"This isn't your business, Wen. This is about the team."

"Oh, okay, so now she's a part of the team."

You can see Seungcheol's frustration at how Jun undoes his poorly constructed argument.

"She's staff and—"

"So not a cleat chaser. Man, you really have to get your story right."

The moment Seungcheol lurches forward, as though to hit Jun, or you, who knows at this point; Mingyu, Chan and even Soonyoung break in between, stopping Seungcheol's intention. He looks more surprised than angry at this point, though the narrowing of his eyes returns when he realizes that he's being blocked, by part of his own team.

Neither Jun nor you are physically intimidating, but Mingyu's height and build, Chan's wiry muscle, and Soonyoung's chaotic energy…all of it is enough to be threatening.

It doesn't hurt that the coaches enter right then to get the players on the diamond for practice. The entire team all trudges out; your little protective squad last to go. Chan squeezes your shoulder as he passes.

You fall to the nearest bench when all that remains is you and Jun.

"You okay?" he asks softly, moving to sit next to you. "I only caught the last bit, but—"

"I'm okay." You look at him, your heart slowly down as your body realizes it doesn't need to fight or flee. "Are you? You were really sick."

"I'm better." He clears his throat, betraying that he's not totally healed.

"You look better."

He says your name. "Are you really okay? That was…that was aggressive."

"I'm sort of numb, I guess," the words slip out before you can hold them back. " I've heard a version of that probably most of my life, though usually not so directly. That the only reason I do what I do is because of guys." You straighten your shoulders. "I appreciate the back up, but you have to spend more time with them in here. I don't want you to—"

He leans forward, his forehead knocking yours, but lingering there. "Stop worrying about me, I'm fine. I didn't grow up doing Wushu for nothing." He lifts his head.

Your expression shares your confusion.

"Martial arts." He flexes a bicep. "This isn't just from my nights at clubs or cheering."

It pulls a smile from you. "Noted."

He lets his arm fall before reaching to cover your hand. "He's an asshole."

"Yeah."

"He always has been, he just hides it better than others."

"I really have shit taste in men, huh."

You both freeze as you realize it's the first time you've acknowledged that you slept with Seungcheol to anyone other than Binna.

"No. If you had shit taste, you'd still be into him…you aren't still into him, are you?" Jun's been looking at your hands, his still holding yours. He looks up at the end of his question, eyes betraying the answer he wants to hear.

"No." You laugh, drawing your hand away, feeling horribly embarrassed by the entire turn of conversation. "I have my issues, but I'm not masochistic."

"Good." He straightens up and looks around the empty locker room. "Speaking of…that day that you walked in on him…talking about you."

You turn on the bench, shaking your head. "It's nothing. It's not surprising."

"I should have said something. I should have defended you. I'm so sorry I didn't."

You look back at him, surprised. "You didn't laugh."

"No, of course I didn't, but I didn't speak up—"

"You didn't laugh. I thought you did. Because I didn't know your laugh then. But I do now. And you didn't laugh. Thank you."

He shakes his head, looking at his lap. "Don't thank me. I should thanking you…and asking why you filled in for me at the game? One of them could have done the megaphone part."

You feel your face heat so fast you imagine you look like a cartoon character with smoke rising from your skin.

"It was Raon and Dohee. Their decisiion, they were adamant at having me fill in. I didn't want to, I did a terrible job and…we are all happy you're back."

"I'm not mad. I was just surprised. You seem like someone who permanently likes to stay in the background."

"I do. I will not be repeating that experience. So do not get sick again."

He laughs before coughing a bit, turning his face away from you. "Okay. But you weren't bad at all. You were pretty cute."

Can your face get hotter?

"I was not."

He makes a face at you, disbelieving. "I saw the video…videos, actually. I stand by my statement."

You stand up, hands fidgety because you don't know why he's saying things like this. "I should…go to practice. I am happy to see you, less pale and ill-looking."

He stands as well, tucking the cardigan around himself like he's cold. He looks soft and far less sparkling. More glowing like a single candle over fireworks.

"Me too. Happy to see you." He looks over at his cubby. "Can we meet later? I need to make up the tutoring session we missed."

"Jun, you don't have to—"

"Sure I do. It's still Romanticism, isn't it?"

You shrug. Like you have a clue.

"I'll text you."

"Okay," you whisper and hurry out the door.

It turns out to be easy to reschedule, because the Carats do not make the playoffs. The final loss, which has nothing to do with you because you are back in your regular position, doing the things you always do, clinches the 'out of the running' for the team. It's your second season with them, first time full season, and you forget how much time you have when you're not at the ball field every free minute.

Seungcheol, Joshua and Jeonghan, all seniors, are quiet and sulky when the locker room is on final clean up. You watch all the players trod out, taking their personal things with them, leaving the team properties behind.

Chan turns to grin at you and wave.

You'll place money that he'll be captain by his junior year.

Clean up is well, gross, as a season's worth of sweat and dirt and general man has built up, but it's a nice thing to have done, especially when everything is inventoried and put up for the off-season. The players will still hit the gym to keep up with their health regimens, but you're no longer needed.

Unfortunately, poetry class is not over, not yet.

"It's all death," you claim, your voice more shrill than you prefer to keep it. But you've just read the poem for this week—there is another but this one is effing long—and you are over it. "Every single freakin poem is about death."

"Most art is? I mean, literature is about sex or death…usually. That's a freebie, when you take the exam and maybe get stuck; write about sex or death."

"But this is…stupid. It's long and wordy and stupid."

He chuckles. "So you don't like American romanticism, so noted."

"'Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,  / Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed  / By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,  / Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch  / About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams'," you read monotonously. "Like I said with the Keats poem, death is not peaceful, or calm or pleasant!"

You realize you are almost yelling and even though it's not the library, but the common area in the student union, you still attract attention. You hunch over and frown.

"Did you read the other poem?"

"No. This one took me forever to get through."

"Here, let's go through the other one." He stands up, leaning over to flip the pages in your textbook, apparently able to read upside down. You look up at him, some of your ire fading at his proximity. He's finally given into the approaching winter; wearing a long-sleeve shirt, another cardigan, and corduroy trousers. His hair is messy from the wind outside and he looks fully back to healthy, cheeks rosy from the same outside zephyr.

"Jun?"

He sits back down, nodding to the pages. "Read it."

You don't say anything, not entirely sure what you would have said anyway. Your eyes scan the poem, catching the rhyme first, then the repetition, then—

"Wait, what is 'the good night'?"

"Take a guess."

Well, it's been pretty much the same theme, so you apply death to 'the good night.'

"It was the poet to his father. When he was dying."

You mouth the words of the final line, also a repeated line, "'Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'"

"It's also called a villanelle, which is a really specific poem structure, and really hard to do and—" He cuts off and says your name. "What's wrong?"

You wipe your eyes, aware now that you're leaking tears. "Nothing."

He reaches out, hand over yours. "Tell me."

"I don't—"

He looks around, how public this all is, and scoops up your book and bag, along with his. He tugs on your scarf, still around your neck and you follow him outside.

It's blustery, leaves dancing in circles around the quad. His hair dances in sync with the leaves, and he leads you to a copse of trees where the wind is slightly blocked. He slides your book and pen in your bag before pulling out a small package of tissues.

You wipe your face, trying to not think about what you're thinking about, but it's impossible. You keep seeing the words of the poem.

Jun doesn't say anything. He leans against a tree, waiting and watching.

"My dad loved baseball," you say slowly. "Like…loved it. Knew every member of every team, coaches, and why teams did well and why they didn't. He knew everything."

"Is that where you get it?"

You nod.

"I figured he wanted his only kid to play, but I'm not good. I'm really not good. So I did the next best thing. I learned everything about it. Statistics, the players, the trades, the fact that if someone would just plant his foot a little to the left, he'd swing so much better." You sniff and look out across the quad, feeling the wind play with your hair. "He died. When I was ten."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. He never properly got to be traumatized by teenaged me." You laugh, but it's hollow. "He refused an experimental drug. After chemo, he was tired and so sick. It wasn't guaranteed, nothing is in a hospital, but he could have tried. Even if it didn't work. Even if all the possible side-effects, like memory loss or no appetite happened." You force yourself to look at Jun. "I wanted him to fight more, but he didn't want to." You swallow the lump in your throat. "We…I wasn't enough for him to try and stay."

He doesn't ask, and you're glad because you would have said no, but he pulls you in for a hug, tight. He rests his chin on top of your head.

"I doubt that."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe he didn't want you to see him worse?"

You look up at him, surprised to see his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"Maybe the drug could have made him worse, um, his body, or his mind."

"Like the memory loss, like not recognize us?"

"Yeah."

"Wouldn't that be worth the risk if you got to stay alive?"

You realize he's still holding you, but he's warm and his cardigan is really soft. You don't move.

"I can't speak for your dad. I've never been in that situation. But if…if it meant possibly losing memories of those I loved? I think I might have considered not taking the drug." He kisses your forehead and you freeze. "Maybe he wanted to keep those memories and that love for as long as he could."

Your eyes well up again, and he tightens his hold.

"I'll mess up your shirt."

"And I'll survive that," he replies, so you bury your face in his chest, tears flowing. He rubs your back as you do, seems unbothered that you're gripping him like you might collapse without him.

You miss your dad. You always miss him.

When you finally let go, Jun relaxes his hold on you, but doesn't let you detach completely.

"Wanna go get ramyeon? My treat."

Later that evening, after you're both so full of noodles and broth, and talked about baseball, cheering (he got into it because someone he liked in high school was one and they had an opening for a male cheerleader; he got the position but that someone never returned his feelings —'honestly, they were kinda a horrible person, so maybe you're not the only one with bad taste in romantic partners') and poetry, he walks you back to your dormitory.

"Thank you, Jun. With the class, and just…you know, being a really nice person."

He grins. "It's not hard to be nice to you."

"Oh please." You wrinkle your nose. "I was definitely not friendly to you in the beginning."

"You weren't?"

"I never understood why baseball needed cheerleaders, so no, I wasn't exactly amicable."

He's still laughing. "But you still offered to wash my uniform. And you still always nodded at me when you saw me. Besides, cheerleading isn't a needed thing. It's a joyous thing, to be encouraged, to join together as a group, to lift up and not bring down."

He stops where the sidewalk intersects with the path to your dorm. You look at him in the light of the streetlamps. He still is exceptionally pretty; bright smile and bright eyes, hair messy from the day.

You're wrung out from all the emotions, so you can't be held totally responsible when you raise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Maybe the forehead kiss gave you permission, or you've gone crazy.

But it feels like saying 'thank you' isn't quite enough.

When you land back on your feet, he's staring at you.

"Sorry if that—"

"Can I kiss you?"

Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised. Not after the way Dohee and Raon talked at the club that night, or how Binna has teased you about bringing him soup when he was sick.

But you still are.

"Yes."

He leans down, cupping your cheek in his hand. You're frozen, unsure all of a sudden how kisses work. He doesn't kiss you immediately, just sort of breathes you in, his nose brushing along yours before fitting his lips to your lips. It's incredibly soft and warm, like him. And you find yourself leaning into it, mouth opening for a taste. He returns taste for taste, teasing and igniting heat in you.

It doesn't go very far, only enough for you to miss him the moment he breaks the kiss.

"So…we'll have to revisit that," he says, his face even more rosy post-kiss.

"You mean, not on a day that I dump my entire childhood trauma on you?"

He catches your smile and leans in for another kiss, this one quick. "Next time, I'll share mine." He straightens up. "And in case it wasn't obvious, I like you."

Shouldn't really be surprising, but somehow hearing it is marveling to you.

"I like you too."

"Oh, that's good. Be weird otherwise."

You laugh, outright laugh after crying only hours earlier. "Just a little bit."

He nods toward your dorm. "You go in. You have a quiz and soon final exam to study for."

"I have a really good tutor."

His blush, even apparent in the bad street lighting, is so cute.

"Good night."

"Good night, Jun."

poems mentioned:

"Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"To Sleep" by John Keats

"Thanatopsis" by William Cullen Bryant

"Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas

He doesn’t look at you right away.

For a while, his attention stays on smaller things—the food in his hands, the way his fingers still tremble when he lifts it, the slow way he chews, like he’s making sure his body remembers how to. Every now and then his gaze drifts, to the panels along the walls, the flickering screens and strips of light slipping through the hatch behind you.

Then to you. Like you’re the one thing in the room he hasn’t accounted for yet.

His brows tighten. You can’t tell if he looks alarmed or suspicious before he glances away, dropping his attention back to the food.

Another bite.

Then, like he can’t leave it alone—

“…are you part of the recovery crew?” he asks, throat finally softened by the water. 

“What?” Your brows furrow.  

“The recovery crew,” he repeats, slower this time, like it's obvious and you’re the one missing it. He gestures vaguely around the pod. “Where’s the rest of them? Has mission control been notified?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His face twists in confusion too. Great. Neither of you knows what the other is saying.

“This,” he says, knuckles weakly tapping the side of the chamber. “The pod. We were supposed to—” He stops, jaw tightening. His gaze flicks past you, to the door, the sliver of grey sky and scrap beyond it.

“This isn’t a water landing, is it?” he asks, more to himself than to you, “We didn’t…”

His eyes lock onto you, running up and down before his lips purse.

“What are you wearing?”

The confusion deepens, tipping into disbelief. “Where did I land? Some kind of… themed zone? Convention or something? Are we at Comic Con?”

You blink at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t—” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what else this is supposed to be.”

That’s enough.

You bring your wrist up, the interface flickering to life across your skin in a soft blue, thin lines of light forming a curved display just above your hand.

“Name,” you demand. “Tell me your name.”

He stares at the hologram first with widened eyes and a dropped jaw. 

“Hey, answer me!” 

“Jihoon,” he says. “Lee Jihoon.” 

You type it in and the system scans through the city’s registry faster than you can follow.

NO MATCH.

You frown and try again. Still nothing. 

You lower your hand, the projection still hovering. Jihoon hasn’t moved, his attention still locked on your wrist. 

His eyes move from the display to your face and then back. “We didn’t have—” He stops himself.

A few seconds pass before he speaks again, more careful this time

“The time dilation. If I’m back now, it must have been…” The cogs turn visibly. “About fifteen years? Is it 2047?”

“Are you on something?” you scoff, starting to get annoyed. “If this is some sort of a stim trip, you picked a bad place to ride it out.”

The words come out sharper than you mean them to, but it feels like someone’s pulling a prank on you, and it's been a long day.

“No, wait—” Jihoon splutters, raising a hand. “What year is it? How long has it been since the launch?”

“What launch? Lazarus hasn’t sent anything to outer space in decades.” You scowl. 

“What year is it?” He asks again. “Please.”

You exhale sharply, massaging your temple before turning back to him. “Fine,” you roll your eyes, feet tapping on the ground. “It’s 2226.”

There’s a brief pause where he looks at you like he’s waiting for you to follow that up with something else—something that makes it make sense—before a faint crease forms between his brows and his gaze drops, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

“Right,” Jihoon says after a few seconds. He nods multiple times before tilting his head up to look at you again, trying to figure out if you’re serious or just committed to whatever this is. “Okay.” 

You say nothing.

He drags a hand through his damp hair before settling it at the back of his neck. It makes him look casual enough. Maybe even awkward, if it wasn’t for the way his cheeks are hollowed with irritation.

“That’s funny,” he adds, without any real humour. “Did they tell you to say that, or—”

“They?” you cut in.

“The recovery team,” he repeats, making you groan. “Or whoever got here first. I don’t know what the plan was, but this—” he nods toward you, “—isn’t how you debrief someone coming out of hypersleep, sorry.”

You stare at him, the earlier annoyance settling back in. 

What are you going to do with him?

it has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world. - chaos theory

"THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT IS A PRINCIPLE IN CHAOS THEORY THAT STATES THAT SMALL, SEEMINGLY INSIGNIFICANT CHANGES IN INITIAL CONDITIONS CAN TRIGGER MASSIVE, UNPREDICTABLE, AND VASTLY DIFFERENT OUTCOMES IN COMPLEX SYSTEMS-"

Mingyu knows what the butterfly effect is. In fact, the exact audio recording playing on loop throughout the penthouse apartment is the same audio that's been haunting his dreams and the moments of almost sleep he's been having at his desk while filling out piles and piles of paperwork at the station.

Now, the audio is playing again at the third crime scene in as many months, and he's had it.

"Turn that shit off," he barks, walking through the flickering holograph of the caution barrier. His legs disrupt the light only for a second, shadows bounding off the walls as he enters the main living area. "I'm tired of hearing about the fucking butterfly effect."

He was tired of researching it, too. Researching why a serial killer would leave the same recording playing at each crime scene over and over again, researching what the murders could possibly have to do with one another. So far, the first five victims have no connection to one another, nothing that clues Mingyu into what's going on beyond the same audio on loop. He doesn't expect this sixth victim will have any connection to their predecessors, but he has to try.

A grisly scene paints the penthouse. It's a nicer home than anything Mingyu will ever afford with floor-to-cieling windows that overlook the neon smear of the city. Rain blurs against the glass, turning the glow beyond to a muted opaque color that clashes with the bright caution banners and the lights of the investigative unit called to the scene.

The penthouse reeks of the metallic tang of blood and the faint tang of the chemicals the collection team uses to take samples all around the apartment. The victim lies splayed across the massive obsidian coffee table in the main entertainment area, arms and legs extended at unnatural angles. It's a male body, the torso filleted open from sternum to pelvis with surgical precision, the ribs cracked outward like grotesque wings.

Mingyu has seen five of these now. Each one has been more elaborate than the last. Each one leaves him with the same hollow frustrating gnawing at his gut.

"Lee," he barks at the lead forensic tech hovering nearby. "Anything different this time? Prints? Core signature? A confession, perhaps?"

Chan shakes his head, his rain-slicked jacket shedding beads of water onto the floor. "Same as the others. No prints, and the audio rig is the same ghost job as the last. The victim owns the building, his name is Harlan Voss. He got a new Skin a few weeks ago at Sync Corp. Nice model, nothing too extreme."

Mingyu crouches beside the table, his boots squelching in the thin layer of blood that has spread across the marble. Through the windows, the city pulses below, bright signs for body rental shops and upgrade clinics flashing in the downpour. Towering buildings disappear into the clouds, connected by old elevated trains that rattle in the distance.

Mingyu looks at the body. Chan had said the Skin upgrade was nothing too extreme, but in a world where people swap bodies regularly, the word extreme has lost most of its value, especially for people like Harlan Voss who are wealthy enough to transfer the Core implanted in their brain stem to a new body anytime they want.

It makes permanent death uncommon for people of this caliber. Mingyu tilts his head to the side, examining the back of Harlan's neck where his Core is. Like the others, it's damaged, which means Harlan is dead dead. No transferring his Core to a new body after the death of this one, no regeneration.

It unsettles something deep in Mingyu like satisfaction, and he pushes it down. He has no time to be disgusted by the Skin jumping of the wealthy while the people below scrap together money to upgrade their Skins to something new or broken just for the prestige of doing it.

Mingyu pushes up to his feet, joints popping and back aching. He groans - unlike the dead victim in front of him, he can't pay to have the tiny device buried in his neck to be transferred to some upgraded flashy skin. One would assume that as law enforcement, he'd get some kind of special discount or offers to enhance his speed, strength or something, but Mingyu has quickly learned that only the wealthy benefit from anything in this city.

He looks around the room slowly, eyes scanning for anything out of place. A broken glass on the bar counter. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey tipped over, mixing with the blood into a pink mess. Framed pictures on the walls show vacation spots in brighter cities, the kind most people only see in ads. One frame lies smashed on the floor, exposing basic wiring behind the fancy cover. Typical rich place that looks expensive on top but cheap underneath.

"Why butterflies?" Mingyu mutters to himself. "Chaos theory. One small change leads to big results. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and starting a storm somewhere else."

The killer isn't hiding the message. Each killing has happened once a month - not on a perfect timing, but approximate. Each scene is bigger - more wing shapes, more lights, the same audio. But the victims are never the same and thus far, there's no link between them. No shared friends, no common jobs, nothing on the basic records. A nobody found in a cheap rental unit. An escort pulled from a job. Nothing ties them together except this ritual.

But Mingyu doesn't know what this ritual is.

Frustration burns in his chest. Five months of this, nights bleeding into days at the station, staring at paper files and holoscreens while rain water leaks onto his desk. His own body feels worn out - aches deep in his joints, eyes burning constantly from lack of sleep. Unlike the dead man in front of him, Mingyu can't afford a new Skin on a detective's pay.

"Detective Kim?" Chan calls, voice unsure. Mingyu spins on his heel to find Chan crouched by the body, holding a small device in his hand near the core in the victim's neck. "I think the core is damaged but not dead."

"What?"

Mingyu strides over, his long legs making it easy. Chan crouches lower, the glasses on his face sliding down his sweaty nose. Mingyu leans over, tilting his head as Chan gently nudges the victim's head to turn it more. The Core is exposed to the elements and cut, like the attacker had been cutting it out to kill it, but as it catches the light, there's a small blip of cyan along the side, flickering as it tries to regain connectivity.

"Holy shit," Mingyu whispers. "If it's still alive, can you re-gen this guy?"

"Maybe, but it's potentially damaged enough that he would come back with high-level personality disorders or other cognitive issues. We might be able to repair enough to access memory or information, though." Chan hesitates. "Legal might get involved. If he's got family or others left behind, they might demand the Core be delivered to them to figure out what to do with it or refuse access to us."

Mingyu's hums, thoughtful. The possibility of interference is higher than he'd like to admit. In the few cases that Mingyu has dealt with the elite, their spouses or family left behind have always been nearly impossible in active investigations. He's since learned that those who sit in gilded glass towers have more to hide than the criminals crawling on the ground, and they'd rather a case go cold than unearth their secrets.

"Are we required to notify them?" Mingyu asks, glancing at Chan.

"Yes?"

"What if we only found it was discovered functional later in a proper autopsy."

Chan looks uncomfortable for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That would make sense."

"Autopsies get delayed, right?" Chan sighs and Mingyu grins, slapping him on the back as he stands again. "Glad we understand each other, Lee. Take care of this while I walk around the area, yeah?"

"Yes, Detective."

Mingyu leaves the apartment and takes the stairs instead of the elevator, his knees protesting with each step. The exercise feels good though, so he jogs down the winding stairs, mind racing. By the time he reaches the ground level, he's sore and his heart is pounding, both reminders that he's human and that he's in his natural body, two things he's grown to be proud of.

The lobby is sleek, made up of polished obsidian and soft blue recessed lighting. Mingyu strolls through the automatic doors, the air locks hissing as he lets himself out into the rain, shoes tapping wetly on the pavement.

Reaching into his pocket, he fishes out a cigarette - an ancient, old world habit in comparison to the sleek vapes most people use - and sticks it between his lips, digging around his pocket for a lighter. He finds it and flicks it, the orange flame licking upward as he lights the cigarette, taking a brief drag. The flame catches and he flicks it shut, taking a heavy drag and lets the smoke settle in his lungs before he exhales into the neon smear of rain.

The street level is quieter this time of night, most of the storefronts closed, their holographic signs still flickering anyway. The street is full of advertising and marketing for Skin modification services, Core implant repairs, temporary Skin rentals for people too poor to own one permanently but desperate enough to spend a night as someone else.

Neon bleeds across the wet pavement in streaks of magenta and cyan, reflecting off the rain to create a blurry kaleidoscope of light that makes Mingyu's eyes water as he takes another drag, flicking ash into a puddle where it melts.

He walks, letting his feet guide him around the perimeter of the building, cool raing tapping down on his head and neck like soft fingers. He doesn't bother with an umbrella, the rain sliding off his jacket as he examines the exterior, cigarette wedged between his lips.

The neighborhood is a mix of high-rises towering over strip malls, luxury boutiques selling pricey mods next to hole-in-the-wall clinics offering illegal and questionable upgrades. It's one of common liminal spaces in the city where the almost wealthy clash with the lower glass, each fighting for dominance on the ground while the megaliths of the city exist in their towers far above.

Mingyu wonders what the rest of them look like from on high. He imagines that they can't even see people like him, rotting beneath the clouds and scurrying around like ants beneath a boot that's constantly waiting to step on them. Mingyu has been stepped on plenty of times, but he hasn't died yet and he doesn't plan on it now, heading to the back alleyway behind the building.

Dumpsters filled with broken tech litter the alleyway, but Mingyu pauses when he sees a bunch of old, rotted Skins. He lifts his arm, covering his face with it to ward off the smell. Skins are still bodies - they're still organic material like any other living organism, and they break down the same way. Seeing tossed Skins isn't uncommon, especially near body-mod shops, but Mingyu is unsettled to see them just tossed, flies buzzing around them.

Pulling out his phone, he dials Chan up stairs. "Send a team down to the back alley, there's discarded Skins. None of them look fresh or functional, but maybe our killer tosses theirs."

"On it."

"Also have someone dispose of these before someone wanders around and tries to take them. They're rotted beyond use, the last thing we need is some kind of infection going around because people are re-genning bad Skins."

"Understood."

Mingyu hangs up the phone and takes the final drag of his cigarette before flicking it toward the dumpster. He continues on his way, searching - for what he doesn't know. Something. Anything. He just wants to find something to help him unravel the mystery upstairs, something he's missed previously.

As always, he finds nothing except the smell of wet concrete and biological decay, the distant hum of an elevated train line cutting through the noise somewhere. He circles back to the front of the building and finds himself looking upward. The building is a vertical monument to wealth that juts up into the rain-soaked sky, but it's got nothing on the monstrosities the corporation owners and mega-rich of the city live in.

The rain grows heavier, coming down in sheets. Mingyu slips under the overhang in front of the building, watching as the world vanishes to a blur of light behind the rain. From here, he knows the city by heart - it spreads out in layers, the commercial district with aggressive neon signage, the old industrial zones still smoking from plants that are ready to collapse any minute, and beyond, the entertainment and wealthy districts.

Trains arc across the space between buildings while autonomous vehicles move through the streets in perfect formation, headlights occasionally cutting through the dark toward him as they pass by the building.

They city pulses on despite the death upstairs, the desperation and money and excess and filth all tangled together, and somewhere in it, is the person Mingyu is hunting, the butterfly that haunts his dreams and all of the hours in between.

ANDROID J05HU9 AND THE HACKER

You haven't lived your whole life in the city of Chroma Nexus. Your life started out very differently than it is now. Your childhood was the stuff of dreams. You grew up in a luxurious city away from this neon hell city has become. You were raised with a silver spoon in your mouth. Your father worked at a bank that handled money for huge companies like FleXeon. Everything shifted when you were freshly seventeen, after a late night at business dinner you lost both your parents in a tragic car accident.

That night shifted everything for you. The house you had grown up in left you feeling haunted. Selling it was the only way you could escape the ghost of your past.

Taking the bullet train to Chroma Nexion changed your life. You realized with the money from your inheritance and your excellent programming skills, you had the ability to never work a mundane regular job.

Meeting Seungcheol made you realize that you could hack just about anything. He took you under his wing and you joined the team that he’s made. You learned Seungcheol had one goal in life, it was to rob the rich and give to people who truly needed the money.

On one of his missions you snuck into a tech corporation. In the basement you were searching around with Wonwoo. You found an android who looked to be a test robot of some sort. With Wonwoo's help, you brought the android to your home that night.

The side of his neck had "J05HU9" tattooed on his human-like skin. It took you two days to fully reprogram him and get him up and running.

Joshua is probably the greatest thing you've ever programmed. From the moment he rebooted you instantly had a connection with your new android.

CYBER SEX

The neon turquoise glow radiates off his pristine skin. You wish you could thank the engineer who crafted him for making him look this beautiful.

Seungcheol has you out a couple blocks down from the FleXeon lab. You're sitting at a computer in the back of a van that Seungcheol set up and Joshua is playing look out with Wonwoo. You've been looking into the FleXeon server nonstop, trying to find errors in their security programming. Seungcheol's goal is to bring down and expose FleXeon and their CEO for their creation of Lavender Haze, and their legal ways of acquiring money.

Whoever designed their security programming is good. Everything is well protected, and their files are fully encrypted. You lucked out and found a kink in their almost impenetrable armor. You were able to access a pretty high up employees’ emails. Sorting through them, you found employee identification information and mentions of blue dust and lavender haze. Reaching into your bag you grab the drive Seungcheol gave you.

You start uploading everything as quickly as possible. Being so close to the FleXeon building you know they have a security sweep in about five more minutes.

Tapping your fingers you watch as the data transfers. The moment it's finished, you hit the door of the van twice. The driver side opens and Wonwoo jumps in. The back door slides open and Joshua joins you in the back.

"Did you get it?" Wonwoo asks.

"Yeah."

"Good job, Starry." It's rare these days for anyone to call you by your actual name. You have a birth on your shoulder that looks like a star, which led to mostly everyone calling you Starry. Joshua is different, occasionally he'll call you Starry, but he mostly calls you his starlight.

"I'll drop you guys off at your place, so you can take your more subtle bike to meet Soonyoung and Jeonghan." Wonwoo says.

"Where are they?" Joshua asks.

"Dumb and dumber went to the lights district." Wonwoo says, rolling his eyes.

The lights district is the scummy part of town. The morally gray and corrupt tend to hang out there. The district is filled with clubs, and even more drugs. You already know why they went there. Soonyoung wants to get blue dust, and he knows a guy who sells it there.

Arriving at your place, you and Joshua quickly jump out of the van. Joshua was smart enough to bring both your helmets.

"I wish we could just take this to Minghao ourselves." Joshua hates when you go to the lights district.

"I would love that too, but you know how Cheol works. He said I have to pass it off to these two."

He helps you put on your jacket and fasten your helmet. He starts the bike with you sitting on the back holding on to him.

Joshua pulls out of the garage. You look at the sky to see it's raining just like it always seems to do these days. Luckily, motorcycle gear works for the rain.

The twenty minute drive to the lights district in the rain isn't pleasant. Arriving at the club you know you would find them at, Joshua parks the bike. He locks your helmets on to the bike. He grabs your hand as you walk up to the crowded club. The bass is booming as EDM music rattles the place.

This place is filled to the brim with people either drunk on Pop Rocks, or high on blue dust. Pushing your way through the crowd you find Soonyoung and Jeonghan in the back. Soonyoung has his tongue shoved down the throat of some girl with pink hair, while Jeonghan is sitting on the couch whispering to a girl with icy white hair. You let out a heavy sigh. This day has been too damn long. You spent hours jumping around locations, trying to get into the FleXeon system and now you're dealing with two of Seungcheol's highest ranked men, who thought it was a good idea to get high out of their minds on Blue Dust.

"Stay back here." You tell Joshua. Him and Soonyoung already butt heads. You don't want anything to unfold between them tonight.

"Soonyoung." You yell, leaving Joshua a few feet behind you leaning on the wall.

He smiles, peeling himself away from the pink haired girl. "Starry, you came!" He shouts. By the wild look in his eyes, and with how blown his pupils are you immediately know he's high.

Soonyoung yelling catches Jeonghan's attention. He pulls himself away from his girl and stands up. His eyes are just as blown as Soonyoung's.

"You guys couldn't make this easy on me, could you?" You huff.

"You're being dramatic." Soonyoung laughs.

You knit your brows glaring at them. They could have been somewhere closer. Instead, you and Joshua had to drive all this way in the rain, after working for hours. These two are already giving you a headache and it's only been a few minutes.

"I'm not being dramatic, you're being inconsiderate." You roll your eyes.

"Ouch, Starry is more sensitive than normal." Jeonghan holds his chest like he's wounded.

"You're just being bigger assholes than normal." You can feel Joshua's eyes burning into the back of you.

"You seem more irritated than normal." Soonyoung points out.

Joshua pushes himself away from the wall, he's already irritated with Soonyoung and his nonsense.

Jeonghan barks out a laugh. "Starry, maybe if you got laid you wouldn't want to kill us all the time."

"She's fucking lover bot over there, getting laid isn't her issue." Soonyoung laughs.

Joshua pushes himself off the wall. This is going to escalate quickly if you don't shut down these idiots.

"Maybe she needs some cock from someone who isn't a machine." Soonyoung laughs. He's definitely trying to get punched. If you knew Cheol wouldn't ring your neck, you would break Soonyoung's nose right now.

"Shut the fuck up. You're just jealous you haven't seen any pussy in months." You poke Soonyoung in the chest. "My issue is that I'm trying to drop off something extremely important and you and Hannie are out of your minds on blue dust."

You reach into your pocket grabbing the drive. "Here." You shove the drive into Soonyoung’s jacket pocket.

"Cheol is gonna fucking love the fact that his edgesunner, and right hand man are high off blue dust is scummy club in the lights district."

Soonyoung reaches for your hand. "Starry, don't be like that."

"Don't touch her." Joshua is standing by your side instantly.

Soonyoung holds his hands up and steps back. "Chill, lover boy. I'm not going to do anything to her. You and I both know I tease her but I love her."

Joshua laces his fingers with yours pulling you back from Soonyoung.

"Starry, I'm sorry." Jeonghan says, sounding sincere.

"I think we should go. I better not hear that Minghao and Cheol didn't get that drive."

"We'll go now." Jeonghan says.

Tugging on Joshua's hand, you lead him through the cramped club. Stepping outside, you're hit with the cold breeze. It seems the rain stopped. Releasing Joshua's hand, you zip up your motorcycle jacket. He walks over to your bike, grabbing both your helmets. He steps in front of you, helping you put your helmet on. He buckles the bottom strap before kissing the tip of your nose. Reaching up he slides your visor down before putting on his own helmet.

"Are we going home?" He asks, walking towards you. You push your visor back up. His eyes are shifting around. You know him well enough to know he's upset. Silently, you nod.

You follow him to the bike. He stops in front of it and pauses. You don't want him to drive while he's upset. "Shua?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about Soonyoung. I'm not interested in human men."

"Who are you interested in?"

"An android." You reach up, sliding the visor back down.

Joshua gets on the bike, and holds his hand out. You hop onto the back, wrapping your arms around his stomach. He gives your thigh three pats. Even if he won't say it out loud, you know that's his way of saying "I love you."

He revs the engine before he takes off down the dark alley. The asphalt below blows with the neon lights from above. The drive out the lights district takes about twenty minutes before you're back in the hub of the city.

Driving through, you look around at the video boards that line the tall sky scrapers. There's a clip of the president of FleXeon playing on repeat. That man is corrupt and helps run production of the drug known as lavender haze dust. His side company that people don’t know about. made an extra synthetic blue dust that's extra potent. Seungcheol is disgusted by drugs and will be pissed if he finds out any of you touched it.

Towards the east side of the hub, the less luxurious side, is where your apartment is located. Pulling into the underground apartment, Joshua parks the bike. You hop off and take off your helmet. Joshua takes off his own, and pulls your bag from the side compartment.

The parking garage has a low turquoise haze to it. The light near the elevator hums as it flickers.

Clicking the button you wait silently next to Joshua. Your neighbor who lives three doors down gets out of her small beat up two door car. She's a sweet older lady who works at the hospital on the edge of the hub.

"Late night out for you two love birds?" She's always in such a good mood. You don't understand it sometimes. She sees so much pain and destruction in that hospital and yet, she still smiles.

"Hello, Mrs. Opal. We wanted to go out for a late night ride." Joshua lifts his helmet to show her.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You step back until your back is against the cold metal wall. Joshua presses the thirteenth floor button and stands next to you.

"When are you two kids going to get married and have some beautiful babies?" If only she knew that your lover is an android. Marriage and babies aren't something the two of you can necessarily have.

Joshua is one of the most humanoid androids you have ever encountered. His mannerisms and looks make him seem fully human. His tattoo on the side of his neck could be a give away, but most people don't know that the ink on his skin is a model number. You made the choice immediately not to make it common knowledge that he's an android. The last thing you need is people snooping around or trying to hack his programming. Or worse trying to steal him from you.

"Maybe one day, Mrs. Opal."

She looks at you and gives you a sweet smile. "Darling, you're lucky you found such a great man." If only she knew that you quite literally found him, and fixed him.

"I'm very lucky." You finally speak.

The elevator dings signaling your arrival to your floor. Joshua grabs your hand leading you down the hall towards your apartment.

"Have a good night you two." She says.

"Goodnight, Mrs Opal." He responds.

He stops at the door and types in the pin. Stepping inside, you're greeted by the turquoise neon glow of the city outside. You didn't bother closing the curtains to the floor to ceiling window that looks out into the dark city. You live in a one bedroom apartment. It's spacious enough for the two of you to live comfortably together. The high ceiling with exposed metal venting, makes the space look larger than it is.

Joshua grabs your helmet from you, along with your bag and places it on the table that sits by the door. He drops down to his knees to help you remove your boots.

"I need a shower." You sigh.

"Go shower and I'll make you something to eat." For someone who doesn't need food to survive, he's really good at cooking. He often eats with you even though his body just burns up everything.

Heading off to the bedroom, you grab a pair of panties and baggy shirt. Walking into the bathroom, you take your time stripping away your clothes. Your bathroom isn't huge by any means and your lighting is terrible, but the water pressure in the shower is perfect. Your whole apartment has a radiant haze to it, just like the rest of the city.

Opening the glass door, you crank the water on. It's scorching hot the moment you step in. After missions you always feel gross, maybe that's your self-conscious telling you what you're doing is illegal. Closing your eyes, you tilt your head forward, letting the hot water relax your tensing muscles. You were hoping Joshua would join you, but you know he's more worried about making sure you eat.

You're not sure what your life would be like if you didn't have him. Being with him has made your life worth living again. He's sunshine in this dark city with a fluorescent glow, and you're the midnight rain.

Getting out of the shower, you dry off and put on just a thong and a baggy shirt. Looking in the mirror, you realize how tired you look.

Walking out into the living area, you're greeted by the smell of ramyeon. Joshua is busy dishing two bowls. Your bare feet pad across the cold hardwood floor.

Sitting down at the small table near the kitchen area, you watch as he brings over food. While you were showering, he must have changed. He's now shirtless, wearing just a pair of sweatpants that are sitting low on his hips. It's clear he's not wearing anything underneath them.

He sits down across from you. He raises his brow, watching you pick up your chopsticks.

"Are you going to power down tonight?" This is the same question you ask him every single night.

"No." He picks up his own chopsticks.

You let out a heavy sigh, and rub your eyes with your free hand. This conversation is always so frustrating.

"Josh, you need to power down occasionally."

"Why?" He's annoyed by this conversation just like you.

"Because when you turn back on, it reboots. That will help get out any kinks in your system. I have to do the same thing with my tablet."

He puffs out a disgusted sound. "So I'm just like your tablet."

You set your chopsticks down. "Don't do that. Don't act like I'm calling you a robot or a device."

"But you are." His tone is pointed.

"From the first time I powered you on and fixed your software to give you emotions, I have never treated you like a robot. I have always and will always treat you like a human."

His brows soften, he leans back in his chair. A look of defeat plays across his face. "Powering down reminds me that I'm never going to be a human. I'm just an android."

You can't say anything, you just stare at him. You know how desperately he wishes he was a human.

"I sometimes forget that I'm not real."

"You're very real. You might not be human. But you're real, and you matter to me. So that's all that fucking matters." Your emotions are high after today and you know you should have just left this alone tonight.

"I'll power down tomorrow night. I don't want to do it after we just had a fight." It's probably best he doesn't do it tonight. The last thing you need to do is go to bed upset while he's rebooting.

"Okay."

You both eat in silence. You've both forgiven each other but there isn't much left to say about your fight. The food Joshua made is delicious, just like it always is. You get up to do the dishes, but he doesn't let you. He grabs the dish and heads over to the sink.

Standing at the window that overlooks the city you stand there wondering what the people are up to down below. The city is still pretty lively for it being close to four in the morning.

You hear him walking up behind you, but you don't move. His arms wrap around your stomach, pulling you back against him.

His hand taps your stomach three times. Closing your eyes, you rest your hand on his thigh and give it three taps.

"I'm sorry." He rests his chin on top of your head.

"I'm sorry too."

"It's been a long day." He sighs.

"I want to go to bed, but I just want to be with you." You desperately crave being close to him.

"I'm all yours, baby."

Pulling away from him, you turn around. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer to you. You don't want to think anymore. You want him to fuck every logical thought out of your brain.

Leaning up, you press your lips to his for a heated kiss. You don't need to explain to him what you want, he understands you completely. His hand slips under your shirt, running across the bare skin of your back. His hand roams lower down to the fleshy cheek of your ass. Your lips don't stop moving together. He kisses you like he's trying to say he's sorry a million times over.

Pulling away, you tug on his bottom lip. "Please just fuck me."

He backs you up until your back is pressed against the cold glass window. Pulling back a little, he looks down at you. "Do you want me to take you to bed?"

"No. Fuck me here."

He grabs your hips, spinning you back around. Your chest is pressed up against the cold glass window. Your thin shirt does nothing to prevent your nipples from hardening.

Pushing your hips back against his crotch, you can already feel him hardening. Joshua’s anatomy is very much like human man's. His body reacts the same as anyone else when he's sexually aroused. Technically, his anatomy is different then the average male. Whoever created him, blessed him with a massive cock. You know deep down inside they created him to be a sex bot.

His hand dips down to your core. He pulls your thong to the side. Two of his fingers rub your sensitive clit.

With his lips near your ear, he rasps, "you're already so wet."

He slides his fingers down to your needy core hole. He dips two of them in with ease. You're so desperate for him, you're pretty sure you could take his massive size without any prep.

The palm of his hand ruts against your clit, and he works his two fingers in and out of you. Gasps leave your lips as your head rolls back against his shoulder. One of your hands grip his sweatpants while the other grips the arm that's wrapped around your stomach, holding you against him.

Your high is rapidly approaching. Your body tenses, as you struggle to breathe for a moment.

"So good for me." He moans in your ear.

Your high breaks, and your walls flutter like a heartbeat squeezing his fingers. He rubs your clits, helping you ride out your high.

"Oh—" you pant.

"You sound so pretty." He whispers against your ear.

"Fuck me."

You push your hips back against the erection that's straining against his sweatpants. He presses you fully against the window. He pulls back just enough to push his sweatpants down below his butt. He pulls out his cock, pumping it slowly a few times. Another blessing from his engineer is that his "precum" works as the perfect lubricant.

"Keep your chest against the window, and push your hips back towards me." He grabs your hip and puts you into position.

With his cock in his hand, he runs it through your folds a few times. Each time he brushes your clit, you can't help but moan.

"Please." You have no problem begging him.

The rosy mushroom tip nudges at your weeping entrance. He pushes an inch in and pulls it out. He does it a few times, teasing you. You push your hips back, causing him to slip in further.

"Naughty girl." He gives your ass a quick swat.

"Please, Shua."

He lets out a little laugh. He grips your hips with both hands. He pushes his hips in slowly. He feels you completely, he's so big you can feel every single ridge of his cock. He starts at a slow but deep pace.

Your cheek rests against the cold glass. You could care less if anyone in the sky scrapers that line the sky can see you. Joshua is fucking you so hard, your brain has stopped working. The only thing you can process is the tip of his cock, kissing your cervix over and over again.

You rock your hips back, helping meet him with each thrust. The groans that leave his lips sound sinful. Leaning forward he starts kissing the side of your neck.

"Are you close?" He rasps.

"Yes." You whine.

Without saying a word, he pulls out of you. You can't even react before he’s flipping you around. He uses his enhanced strength to lift you up, as if you weigh nothing. He pulls your panties to the side before sliding you down his massive length. Closing your eyes, you lean your head back against the window. He's hitting a completely different angle in this position.

He thrust into you at a quick pace. His sweats slip further down his thigh with each thrust. Your back knocks against the glass over and over. His lips are anywhere they can reach. He starts by kissing your jaw and then moves down your neck.

Your fingers tangle in his dark hair. Tugging his head back, you desperately want to look at him. His lips part slightly as quiet moans pass his lips.

"Shua—" his name never sounds as sweet as it does falling from your lips in the haze of an orgasm.

His hips don't stop moving. He helps you ride out your high as your walls flutter against his cock.

Your hand talons into his shoulder, lost in a cock drunk haze.

His thrusts get sloppier as he rapidly approaches the edge. He moans your name like a sinful prayer. Similar to humans, he releases a cum like substance when he orgasms. He fills you to the brim, holding you flush against him. Leaning forward, he rests his head against your shoulder.

You're scared if he puts you down, you jelly legs won't work. He leaves a few open mouth kisses against your shoulder before he pulls away.

Slowly he pulls out of you. Gently, he sits your feet on the ground. Your legs feel like they're made of jello. He tugs your thong back over your core that's starting to drip out his release. He leaves you there just long enough for him to pull his pants up and to tuck his softening cock back inside them.

He lifts you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. He sits you down on the cold concrete counter. You immediately shiver at the feeling.

"Can you take off your panties?" Your eyes go wide. You aren't sure your abused core can take another orgasm tonight.

"I'm not going to fuck you anymore. I need to clean up my cum."

Lifting your hips you pull off your thong. You hold it out and he grabs it before tossing it in the hamper behind him. He reaches under the cabinet for a cloth.

You take this as your sign to spread your legs. A playful smile tugs at your lips. Dipping your fingers through your sensitive core, you collect some of his release. His cum like substance looks exactly like human cum. It’s thick and milky, but instead of being salty and sometimes unpleasant, his is sweet. It reminds you almost of a subtle simple syrup. Sticking your fingers in your mouth you taste his sweet cum.

Joshua gives you a smile as he shakes his head at you. He runs the cloth under warm water before stepping between your spread legs. He gently cleans up the mess he's made of you.

Before pulling you off the counter, he stands between your legs and leans of kisses across your face. He has one hand on your butt and the other on your cheek. The hand that's on your cheek, he taps three times before pulling back.

"It's almost five, you need to sleep."

He pulls you off the counter and carries you to your room. He lays you down gently on the bed. Crawling under the covers, you wait for him to join you. He's over by the window that looks out into the city. He pulls back the curtains to block a little of the morning sun that will soon be rising.

He joins you in bed and pulls your body close to his. You're laying on your side with him firmly pressed behind you. You smile at the fact that you're no longer wearing panties and just a shirt.

"Sweet Dreams, Starlight."

GLITCHES AND STATIC

It's a night where you finally don't have to work. You contemplated staying in all night and just spending time with Joshua. Somehow Mingyu and Wonwoo convinced you to go out with them. They seem to be the only two that don't cause problems when they go out. Sitting in a bar near your place, Joshua comes over holding a bottle of beer and a weird lime green looking drink.

He slides in next to you. Wonwoo was telling you about a motorcycle he was looking to get soon. Mingyu slides in next to him, holding the same two drinks as Joshua.

"Why did you bring over battery acid?" Wonwoo asks, picking up and examining the drink.

"It's called luminescent." Mingyu responds.

"Please tell me someone didn't make a new drug." You sigh.

"The bartender said it's like PopRocks but more citrusy." Joshua chimes in.

"PopRocks makes me incredibly drunk after one." You've blacked out too many times because of that potent sparkly pink drink.

"I think Starry should drink the beer." Mingyu says. It's the best idea, Joshua can't actually get drunk. He really only drinks to blend in socially.

"What about us?" Wonwoo looks at the fluorescent green drink.

"I'll drink it, you can drive us home." Luckily Wonwoo and Mingyu are roommates and rode here together.

Joshua goes to move his hand to grab his drink, and you immediately catch his hand twitching and locking up. You definitely haven't seen that happen before. Resting your hand on his thigh, you give it a squeeze. He glances at you, moving his hand to his lap. Taking his wrist in your hand you rub slow circles into the underside where his skin is delicate.

Wonwoo and Mingyu are oblivious to what is happening as Mingyu is talks about some cute bartender he met.

Joshua keeps trying to squeeze his hand. Slowly, the glitch works its way out. He grabs your hand, bringing the top of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

You give him a knowing smile.

"Shua, you need to try this luminescent drink."

"Alright." With his other hand, he picks up the glass filled with the electric liquid.

Soon a very buzzed Mingyu has convinced Wonwoo that they should play darts. You and Joshua are given a moment alone at the table.

Running your finger along the side of the beer bottle, you're mindlessly playing with the condensation. Joshua is still slowly sipping on the electric drink. He opted not to chug it like Mingyu did.

"Is the glitch with your hand new?"

"Kind of." He sighs, flexing the hand that glitched.

"How long has this been going on?" You hate that he didn't tell you the first time it happened.

"About two weeks ago." He looks down at the table, embarrassed. He absolutely hates anything like this that reminds him he's not human.

"Two weeks and you didn't tell me." You stare at the side of his head.

"Yeah. It's fine. It will work itself out." He looks at you and gives you a smile. As if he's trying to convince both of you that it's fine.

"No, it won't. I need to look at your software and fix it."

Mingyu lets out a cheer, catching both your attention. Joshua grabs his drink, taking a big gulp to help cut the tension.

He sets the glass down on the table. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Sure." This isn't a conversation that you want other people to hear necessarily. You don't want the team finding out about him glitching. Seungcheol might not be happy if one of his enforcers are having processing errors and glitches.

After Mingyu's poor decision to drink a beer after the luminescent drink, Joshua helps move a very drunk Mingyu to Wonwoo's car outside. You stand by the bike, watching everything unfold. Wonwoo reaches into the glove compartment and grabs a packet of jolt. It's a sweet substance that helps sober people up from alcohol and blue dust.

Wonwoo pulls the substance into his best friend’s mouth and slaps his cheek. Mingyu shakes his head and from a distance you can see he's already sobering up.

Joshua closes the car door and walks over to your bike. You hold out his helmet for him.

The ride back to your place doesn't take too long. Arriving back at your home, Joshua immediately heads off to the bathroom. You head off to the bedroom and grab something to change into. Opening the bathroom door, you're instantly greeted by steam and the sound of Joshua humming a song.

Stripping away your clothes, you toss them in the hamper. Opening the glass door, you step inside. Nothing is said as Joshua steps aside, giving you room for the water. You stand there, facing the facet. The hot water feels cleaning.

Joshua presses himself against you, wrapping his arms around your stomach. Neither of you say anything as he holds you.

He pulls away and grabs your strawberry scented body wash. He takes his time washing your body, making sure to massage your tense shoulders.

Getting out of the shower, you both take your time drying yourself off. You don't bother getting dressed.

"Why did you not tell me?" You finally break the screaming silence.

"Because I didn't want you to worry."

"Shua, we don't keep secrets." Since the moment you turned him on, you never hid anything from him. Long before you were romantically involved, he was still your friend and your companion. You promised him from the very beginning you would never keep secrets from him.

"I know and I'm sorry."

"Let me look at your software and upgrade you."

"It's fine? If it gets worse you can." You can tell by the look on his face this is a losing battle tonight.

"Fine." You grab your clothes off the counter. You pull on a baggy thin tshirt, and a lacy pink thong, this is the usual attire you walk around at home and sleep in.

You can feel Joshua's eye burning into you as you walk out of the bathroom. You head off to the kitchen. You need a glass of water. You don't want to go to bed upset and you just need a moment to cool off.

Leaning against the counter, you look out at the bright city. You hear Joshua before you see him. You look up and find him dressed in just his tight boxer-briefs.

"I don't want to go to bed mad." He says, stopping in front of you.

"I'm not mad." You're not lying to him. You aren't mad, you're more stressed than anything. "I'm just worried."

"I know you are, and I'm worried too." You both know deep down inside he should at least shut down for the night so he can reboot slowly.

You sit the water down on the counter. Holding your hand out, you wait for him to come close to you. He grabs your hand, stepping right in front of you. He places your hand on his chest. If he was human, you would be able to feel his heart beating.

You drum your finger three times right above the void of where his heart should be.

"It would beat for you." In a perfect world, Joshua wouldn't struggle with feeling inadequate about not being human. Him being an android changes nothing for you. You don't love him any less because of it.

You tap his chest three times again. "Mine beats only for you."

You lean against the counter. You take a moment focusing on him. Recently, he seems to be more emotional. The only reason that could possibly be is he's worried about something going wrong with his programming.

He places his hands on either side of you, caging you in against the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Things between you haven't always been like this. It wasn't until last year when Joshua started fighting shutting down a few times a week at night. He's been with you for about three years and you have been romantically involved since six months after you found him. Things between you have always been intense, but in the last year and half, you noticed how much Joshua struggles with the idea of not being a human.

"We're okay." You whisper.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his face closer to yours. Your lips touch, and the only thing your brain can think of is getting as close as possible to him. His hand grabs your hips, pulling you far enough away for him to slide his hand down your back, and to grab you butt.

You moan into his mouth, rolling your body towards him. He pulls away and immediately picks you up sitting you on the edge of the counter.

Instinctively, you spread your legs, and pull your panties to the side. He dips down and starts kissing your knee, making his way across your inner thigh. He kisses the top of your mound as he drags two fingers through your wet folds.

He focuses on licking your clit over and over again. Two of his fingers pump in and out of you, helping to stretch you out.

Your fingers tangle in his dark locks, hold his face close to your core. Looking down, you find him looking up at you through his lashes.

He eats you out like you're water in a blazing hot sun. Pushing your hips towards his face, you're growing desperate for your release. You just want him inside you, but you know he won't until you've came at least once.

He moves his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

The tidal wave hits you hard. Tugging on his hair, you try to anchor yourself. Your walls tug on his fingers and he keeps brushing your g spot.

"Fuck— Shua—" your words are nothing more than a broken plea.

He pulls back smiling. He dips his two fingers in his mouth, cleaning up your release.

"You sound so pretty when you moan." He steps back and takes off his boxers.

He pumps his massive erection, helping to lube it up before he stretches you out. Your kitchen counters sit at the perfect height for him to be able to fuck you while you sit on them.

He leans in close, giving you a wicked grin before kissing you. You moan into his mouth as he runs the tip of his cock through your folds.

He always likes to tease you with just the tip a few times before he slowly pushes his whole length in.

Your legs wrap around him, pulling him fully inside. His rose tip kisses your cervix as he bottoms out.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you crash your lips into his. He pushes his hips into yours at a slow and deep pace.

Time doesn't seem to exist when you're with Joshua like this. All that matters is just the two of you.

Leaning back, you look down at where you're connected, watching as he stretches you.

"Baby, take your shirt off." He tugs on the bottom of the thin fabric.

Pulling your shirt off and tossing it on the ground, you're left completely bare except for your panties he has pulled to the side.

Reaching forward, he grabs one of your breasts, groping it before he tweaks your nipple.

"Fuck—" you moan.

Leaning back on your hands, you push your hips to the furthest edge of the counter. One of Joshua's hands rests on your core. His thumb rubs circles on your clit. He picks up his pace, thrusting into you.

He lifts your leg up over his shoulder. The new position has him hitting different areas then before.

"I'm close." You moan.

He’s rubbing your clit harder, helping to push you over the edge.

"Oh fuck." Your eyes squeeze shut, and your head rolls back. Your orgasm hits hard. He doesn't stop thrusting or working on your clit. Unfamiliar pressure builds in your core. One specifically hard thrust makes you see stars, and liquid sprays from you, covering his crotch.

He gets a solid two thrust in before he fills you to the brim with his synthetic cum. He stops moving fully. Releasing your leg, he pulls you close to him. Your body is absolutely spent. Your head is resting on his shoulder. His large hand is running up and down your back, helping you soothe you.

"You've never done that before." He finally speaks.

"I don't think my legs can work."

"Let me clean you up and I'll carry you to bed."

Sitting on the counter, Joshua takes his time cleaning up the mess he made between your legs. He lifts you with ease, taking you to the bedroom.

It's not long before you're sound asleep in his arms.

-

It's another late night job. Minghao has a drive for you to look at. There is a meeting on the north side of the hub.

Soonyoung is already with Minghao, and Jeonghan is coming along to make sure no one is following you.

Minghao picked a better meeting place than Soonyoung is known to pick. You're at a little hole in the wall family restaurant. There is a flicking neon open sign at the door.

You're greeted by an older man who just gives you and Minghao a nod. He tends to like to come to this place for meetings. This sweet old lady is used to Minghao and his crew showing up.

He’s at one of those L shaped booths in the back corner. He's got a sea of plates on the table. Soonyoung is next to him, eating from a plate of noodles.

Minghao is tapping away on his tablet. Jeonghan slides into the booth next to Soonyoung. You follow next to him. Joshua sits on the edge keeping guard.

"Jeonghan, did you come just for the food?" Minghao quips not looking up from the tablet.

"No, Cheol sent me."

"Does Cheol not trust us?" Soonyoung responds.

"Well, he knows we have a taste for blue dust, and he threatened to end all of us if we touch it while working." Jeonghan reached for an empty plate.

"You two idiots are the ones who did dust while you were working." You glare at him.

"How did Cheol find out about that?" Soonyoung asks, glancing up.

"I told him." You don't care that you snitched on them. Them being high is a liability.

"Then why did he send you to babysit, you were also high?" Minghao says glancing up from the tablet.

"Because he knows I'll stop it from happening again. He already threatened to throw me off the FleXeon tower if I fuck up again." The thing about Seungcheol is that he's the ring leader and the man in charge, and all of your group loves and respects him, but you all know he's a very capable man and should be feared.

"He’s trying to get into Cheol's good graces by babysitting." You respond. You know Seungcheol is tough on Jeonghan but he cares about him the most.

Jeonghan starts dishing a plate of food. Him and Soonyoung start talking about the noodles.

Joshua reaches into his bag and pulls out your tablet. Minghao set down his chopsticks. Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulls out a drive. With a firm push, he slides it across the table.

Picking up the drive, you connect it to your tablet. Opening the files, you see something unexpected. You open a drive called "the wife", your brows knit together as you scroll through evidence of an affair unfolding.

"The CEO’s wife is cheating?"

"He's blackmailing her." Minghao closes his tablet.

"That's illegal." Soonyoung says between bites.

"We can add it to FleXeon’s long list." Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

"There is some code that's blocking some security footage that I can’t figure out. I'm pretty sure you can break it."

"Should we be discussing this here?" Joshua finally speaks up.

"There isn't a soul in here and Ms. Rose knows to stay quiet. I make sure she's paid well for the trouble." You glance over to see the neon flickering open sign is turned off and the door is shut.

"I'll work on getting in. When do you want the drive back?"

"After you crack the code. Seungcheol wants a team meeting soon anywhere." Pulling the drive out, you hand it and your tablet back to Joshua. You notice immediately his hand glitches as he tries to grab the tablet. He closes his eyes as if he's trying to focus. His hand finally works and he's able to put your tablet away.

Minghao flags over Ms. Rose and hands her a hefty wad of cash. You and the boys all make your way out the door. Soonyoung and Minghao head off to their care and you follow Jeonghan off towards his. Seungcheol put him in charge of being the driver tonight.

Arriving at the apartment, Joshua is holding your bag and your hand. The elevator ride is quiet except for the hum of the elevator. The doors ding and slide open.

Walking into your apartment, you take off your shoes and immediately get your other tablet out. Moving to the kitchen table, you start sorting through all coding.

Joshua disappears for a while before coming back dressed just in a pair of sweatpants. Glancing over into the living area by the window, you see him messing with his hand. He needs to power down and reboot but you don't want to argue with him tonight.

"Are you hungry?" Joshua asks, walking towards the kitchen area.

"Yeah. I didn't really feel like eating at the meeting." In those kinds of setting, you don't normally have an appetite.

"I can cook you dinner."

"Can you make us ramyeon?"

"Yeah."

He moves around the kitchen quietly while you work on finding the coding Minghao mentioned. This job seems bigger than anything your job has ever done. Seungcheol’s goal is to take down FleXeon and to steal money from them. Once this job is done, and if it goes down correctly, you will have enough money for the rest of your life.

Once this job is done, maybe you and Joshua can find a bigger place or take a trip somewhere. You stop typing and just stare at your tablet. Maybe you and Joshua could live a more comfortable life. A life that doesn't involve you constantly doing something illegal. Honestly you don't really need a bigger space. This loft style apartment is perfect for you both. As long as you're together, you don't feel like you need more.

"Starlight?" Joshua sits down at the table across from you.

"Yeah?"

"You're zoning out."

He puts your bowl down in front of you. You close your and pick up your chopsticks. "I'm just thinking about what we can do after this job."

"What do you want to do?" He picks up his own chopsticks

"I don't know. Maybe we could leave the crew and stop working these jobs."

"We can if you want to."

"I thought about even moving."

Joshua glances around the apartment. "But this is our home."

"I know. I love this apartment and it feels like our home. Maybe we can take a vacation. Get some space from this city."

He reaches across the small table taking your hand in his. "I'll follow you anywhere you want to go." Joshua loves you so much, and it's not because you programmed him to love you. You made sure when you fixed his programming after you found him, you gave him emotions and free will. He fell in love with you because he wanted to.

You aren't sure what you want to do, you just know that whatever happens, you want him by your side.

THE NEON GLOW IN YOUR EYES

The lights district is definitely your least favorite part of the city. You finished working another stake out and a handful of the guys convinced you and Joshua to go out.

Standing by the table, you watch the large tv that hangs in the middle. There is a press conference with FleXeon CEO Kang Dohyun. Your eyes focus trying to read the subtitles as they sprawl across the screen. The company is working on putting out another line of androids similar to Joshua. It doesn't sit right with you that people are making androids to basically be worker and sex bots. Next to you are Chan, Soonyoung and Mingyu. Joshua is at the bar with Wonwoo and Jeonghan.

Glancing over, you see Chan pull out a container of blue dust. At this point, half your crew does it during their off time. You tried it a few times when you first joined the crew. The powder feels like instant adrenaline with heightened emotions that fades into relaxation.

You think the only ones in your crew who don’t mess with this stuff are Seungcheol, Joshua, Wonwoo, and you.

Soonyoung nudges your shoulder holding out the vile light blue powder in it. "You want a bump?"

"Soonyoung—"

"Come on, you're stressed and this will help." He raises his brow.

You glance over at the bar, seeing Joshua talk to the boys. He must feel you looking at him, he turns and gives you a smile, tilting his head.

Maybe Soonyoung is right, maybe this will take the edge off. Grabbing the vile from his hand, you pour a small dab on the back of your hand. You lick it off in one quick swipe or the tongue.

Taking a slow deep breath, the high feels like ice rushing through your veins. Your eyes feel incredibly heavy for a moment. The flutter and you instantly see Joshua's eyes locked on yours.

Joshua hands his drink off to Wonwoo and rushes over to you. Every single nerve in your body feels electric. The moment he's in front of you, he rests his hand on your cheek.

"Starlight, what did you do?" He leans in close so you can hear him over the booming music.

"Dust." Your pupils are blown wide as you share him.

Joshua hits Soonyoung's arm capturing his attention. "How much did she take?!" Joshua shouts over the music.

"A small hit, she's fine. Give her an hour and she'll be relaxed."

"I don't want her on the back of my bike in an hour."

Leaning in close Joshua brushes his nose against yours, helping to center you.

"Baby."

"Yes, Shua?"

Wonwoo and Jeonghan join the rest of the group. Wonwoo instantly can tell by Joshua's uneasiness what has unfolded.

"Did she take a hit?" Jeonghan asks.

"Yeah!" Chan shouts over the music.

"She hasn't done dust in years." Jeonghan says, patting Joshua on the back.

"Do you want me to get the jolt out of my car?" Wonwoo asks Joshua.

Joshua takes your face in both hands. There is a neon glow from the lights above shining in your blown pupils. He's seen you drunk before, but he's never seen you high.

"Do you want Wonwoo to get you a jolt?"

"I don't want to think anymore tonight." Between trying to take down FleXeon and worrying about Joshua and his software glitches, for once, you just want to shut down your brain that won't stop spinning.

"Wonwoo, later can you take the bike home and I'll drive your car?"

"Yeah." Wonwoo is a wise man, and he's well aware that something deeper is unfolding.

The booming music feels like it's rattling your chest. Joshua's hand stays on your waist, holding you close. Your eyes find Soonyoung's blown pupils staring back at you. For a while now, Soonyoung has had a love for the shimmery blue dust. He's the type that will take another hit before the relaxation kicks in.

Soonyoung has his eyes on a pretty blonde girl on the dance floor. He starts whispering something in her ear.

Before you start to dip down, you just want to enjoy this feeling. Reaching out, you grab Joshua's hand.

"I want to dance." You say with your lips against his ear.

He just nods. He takes your hand, leading to the crowded dance floor. Soonyoung is already dancing with the blonde, and Chan has found himself a pretty girl.

The whole time you're dancing with Joshua, every single sensation feels heightened to the max. The feeling of his hands on your body is electric.

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to you. Connecting your lips to the side of his neck, you kiss your way across his synthetic skin. Running your tongue along the "J05HU9" that runs down the side of his neck.

"I want you." You say just loud enough for him to hear.

He pulls away and looks at you with big doe eyes. He looks utterly confused as he just blinks at you. "Not like this."

He doesn't like having sex with you when you're drunk. You know there's no way he'll have sex with you while you're high.

"Oh." You pull back.

Shaking his head, he grabs your hand. "Starlight, not like this."

A slow, steady warmth starts taking over you. Your heightened emotions are making you crash. The feeling of rejection is crushing.

"Baby." He takes your face in both hands. "We're okay."

All you can do is blink at him. "You don't want me?"

"I always want you. I just need to take care of you tonight."

He leans in close, resting his nose against yours. He presses his lips to yours for three quick kisses.

"Should we sit down?" You pull back from him.

Taking your hand, he leads you back toward the table where Wonwoo, Jeonghan and quite high Mingyu are sitting.

If you were sober, you might enjoy the fact that Jeonghan is trying to be on his best behavior since Seungcheol clearly put him in his place.

Joshua helps slide you into the booth. He sits down next to you. His hand laces with yours, holding it in his lap.

Slowly, your heightened emotions are starting to dissipate. A jelly-like feeling is starting to take over. You feel incredibly calm and relaxed.

Closing your eyes you lean against Joshua. "I'm ready for bed." You mumble. It's been over an hour since you took a hit and your body is starting to crash.

"I think it's time Starry goes home." Jeonghan says before taking a sip of his beer.

"Do you want my car?" Wonwoo asks.

"How is Mingyu going to get home if you just have the bike?" Joshua asks.

"We all should head out. I'll take the bike, and you can take my car." Jeonghan says.

"Soonyoung and Chan left with those girls. I'm good riding the bike."

Joshua gets out of the booth and picks you up effortlessly. He holds you close, making his way through the crowded club. Mingyu follows behind Wonwoo closely.

Arriving at Jeonghan's car, Joshua sits you in the passenger seat. Looking over at Wonwoo's car, you see him pouring a jolt into Mingyu's mouth. Joshua works on buckling you up before giving Jeonghan his motorcycle helmet and his jacket.

Joshua hops in the car. "We'll be home soon."

The ride back to your apartment feels like a blur. Joshua parks the car and Jeonghan pulls up behind you on the bike. Jeonghan helps Joshua get you upstairs. Joshua lays you in bed and strips away your clothes, leaving you in just your panties. Going over to the closet, he grabs a baggy shirt and helps you pull it on.

"I need to thank Jeonghan, and then I'll be back." He leans down and kisses your forehead.

Heading out into the living area he finds Jeonghan sipping on a glass of water looking out into the fluorescent cityscape.

"I haven't seen her like that since she found you." Jeonghan says. Joshua doesn't say anything. He's not quite sure how to respond. "I used to think what she has with you isn't healthy for her, but I think it's the opposite. You ground her in a good way. You've become a home for her. She loves you so much, and it's clear you love her."

"Jeonghan, I love her so much."

"Did she program you to love her?" Jeonghan glances over at the android standing next to him.

"No. I have free will, emotions and feelings. The only thing she did was program me to make me have normal emotions humans have." Joshua's eyes bounce around the room. "When I first told her I liked her, she asked me if I made that choice on my own. Or if I felt like I owed her something."

"Do you think you owe her something?" Jeonghan loves you and only wants to protect you.

"No. I just can't help that I fell in love with her."

Jeonghan reaches up, patting Joshua on the back. "I used to worry about her all the time. Cheol found her right after she lost her family. She was so lost and lonely. He took her in and she joined our group. She used to live with me in the beginning. I would find her crying sometime in the middle of the night. Those nights used to rip my heart out. I just wanted to see her happy, and I hoped one day she would find someone who could love and care for her like she deserved." He pauses and looks back at the city. "I didn't think it would be an android she found, but finding you made a light start burning inside of her. Falling in love with you made her so bright."

"Jeonghan."

"You don't have to say anything else. Just do me a favor and always take care of her. Even if she wants to walk away from this crew, I just want to know you'll always be with her."

"I will."

"I should go." Jeonghan pats him on his back one more time before heading out.

Joshua stands there for a moment, locked into place. He knows before him you were a mess, and he doesn't remember his life before you turned him on, but he knows what little life he had before you got together, hollow and empty before you fell in love.

His hand feels weird. He looks down and tries to squeeze his hand. He takes a moment, trying to focus on getting rid of the glitch. He's just glad Jeonghan didn't witness this. It takes minutes before he starts feeling normal.

Walking back into the bedroom, he finds you sound asleep in bed. He strips away his clothes and stays just in his boxes-briefs. Pulling the covers back he curls up next to you.

He pulls your body close to his. He kisses the top of your head and whispers, "I love you."

REBOOT AND RESTART

Stationed outside Quantum Tower where CEO Kang lives, you're in the back of a truck with Jeonghan. Joshua is standing outside acting as a guard. Chan is roaming the area with Vernon.

Sitting in the driver’s seat is Seungcheol. It's quite unusual for him to go out on missions. He's got Jihoon at the base, his third in command, with some of the secondary team at FleXeon tower with Minghao looking into their security coding, while Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Soonyoung are running the perimeter there.

"So, the wife is fucking one of the broad members?" Seungcheol asks, looking into the back of the mirror.

"It seems that way." You're tapping away at your tablet. You're trying to access the wife’s financial records.

"It looks like she was being blackmailed by someone anonymous that the CEO hired." Jeonghan chimes in.

"Why is he blackmailing her?" Seungcheol asks.

"Because he's afraid she knows too much." You've managed to find her records and discover she's been paying large sums of money to an unknown account.

"Something else is going on with her." You say.

"What?" Jeonghan asks.

"A different account is sending her large payments from her."

There are two taps on the door, before Joshua slides the door open. Chan and Vernon pile in.

"We got to go. Security is doing a perimeter sweep."

You pull the drive from your tablet and hand it to Seungcheol. "Have Minghao look into this. See if he can figure out who owns this account. "

Seungcheol slides it into this jacket pocket. Jeonghan crawls into the front seat next to Seungcheol. Vernon and Chan buckle up.

"Alright let's head out." Seungcheol nods and shifts the car into drive. Joshua moves into the seat next to you.

Looking down at his lap, you see Joshua's hand is fully locked up. Reaching down, you take his wrist in your hand. You slowly start dragging your thumb across the delicate synthetic skin on the inside of his wrist, helping to soothe him.

No matter what happens tonight, you know that Joshua needs to shut down and reboot.

The ride to Seungcheol place is about twenty minutes. He lives in an apartment on the outskirts of the hub.

Seungcheol parks the car and everyone piles out. Entering the elevator, it's quite full. Joshua is pressed against the wall with your back plastered to his front. His arm is wrapped around you, holding you close to him. Glancing up, you find Jeonghan carefully watching you. Closing your eyes, you lean your head back against Joshua's chest.

The doors dig and Seungcheol steps out. The whole crew follows closely behind. Piling into Seungcheol place, you find the girl that lives with him. You don't know much about her. According to Seungcheol she's a childhood friend he looks after. The moment she sees everyone enter, she scurries off towards her bedroom. The door closes and shortly after Jihoon, Soonyoung and Minghao walk in.

Vernon sits down on the couch with Chan. Jeonghan immediately goes off to the kitchen. Seungcheol is standing by the window with Minghao and Soonyoung scrolling through his tablet.

Joshua is standing next to you. His hand keeps glitching. Looking down, you see him trying to get it to stop. Reaching down, you grab his hand. Maybe if you mess with it, it will help distract him.

"Kang is definitely making lavender haze, and his wife is well aware of it. It's clear he's just not making tech for androids like Joshua." Seungcheol walks over. "I think if we shut down his system, we can copy the software coding he used for his androids, wipe his accounts and set him up."

"How would we set him up?" Jeonghan asks, walking back into the living room.

"We're gonna make sure everyone knows FleXeon created lavender haze."

"I think between me and Starry, we could hack the programming and any of the FleXeon androids can be reset to have emotions and memories like Joshua." You knew at some point the software edits you did to fix Joshua would end up being used again. If Seungcheol wants to fix the FleXeon androids, you will. All the androids he has out in the city being workers and sex bots deserve a chance to feel human like Joshua.

You give Joshua's hand a squeeze. "We could do it."

"Hao, I'm going to have you see who is paying the wife." Seungcheol tosses the drive towards him.

Minghao catches it and salutes him. "Next week I want to send Soonyoung and Vernon into the building. Starry, see if you can shut down their security system for a few minutes."

"Okay." You're pretty sure you should be able to do that no problem.

"Alright, you're all free. I should check on Angel." Angel is the girl who lives with him. She's one of the few people who Seungcheol will show his softer side to.

Joshua walks over to the table and grabs both your helmets. You're exhausted, it's almost three in the morning. This mission tonight has lasted longer than planned.

Heading down to the garage, the elevator is filled with most of the group. Jeonghan and Jihoon stayed behind.

The doors open and everyone immediately starts going their separate ways. Wonwoo and Mingyu head off to Wonwoo's car. Vernon and Chan head off to their cars. Soonyoung and Minghao both walk towards their bikes they took here.

Joshua takes his time helping you put on your helmet.

"How is your hand?" You ask, watching him put on his own helmet.

"It's fine." He squeezes his hand to show you it works. You both know it's not truly fine.

He hops on the bike, and holds his hand out. You hop on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you hold on. Driving out of the garage, you're hit with the sight of the wet asphalt. It must have rained while you were having your meet. The city neon haze leaves the wet roads glimmering in a glow of turquoise.

The ride back home is short. Joshua seems too quiet. You hate this feeling of impending doom.

Entering the home you share, Joshua takes your helmet before he heads off to the bedroom.

Following behind him, you start getting ready for bed. You get dressed in your normal sleeping attire. Joshua leaves after stripping down to a pair of boxers.

Walking into the living area, you find him staring out into the city below.

"Shua." He turns around.

"I won't fight you on shutting down tonight." You both know there is no point in fighting about this anymore.

"You'll only be down for about two hours. I just need to reboot your system."

"Okay." He lets out a sigh.

Walking off to the bedroom, Joshua lays on his side of the bed. Crawling into the bed next to him, you sit on your knees. He leans up, resting his hand on your cheek. He presses his lips to yours for a kiss.

He rests his hand on your thigh and gives it three taps. "I love you too." You respond.

He reaches behind his left ear and holds down a button that is barely visible. His eyes turn a bright blue before they shut. His whole body goes limp as he powers off.

Your eyes instantly well with tears. Reaching out, you rest your hand where his heart would be located. In order for his system to properly reboot he'll need to be shut down for two hours. You have this sudden feeling of loneliness that takes over. Crawling off the bed, you grab the tablet that controls his operating system.

You open it up and a hologram of his system appears. You go into his power settings, and set it for him to reboot back in two hours.

Closing the tablet, you look at him lying there completely lifeless. You know he needs to reboot every so often, and you even fight him about it, but you hate this.

Crawling back into bed, you curl up against him. Resting your head on his chest, you can't help but cry. Your tears continue to fall until you finally fall asleep.

When Joshua finally reboots, he instantly notices your tear stained cheeks. He knows you've cried yourself to sleep.

"Starlight." He whispers.

Your eyes slowly flutter open. "Shua?"

"I'm awake, and I'm okay."

"Can you hold me?" You whisper.

He moves you both so you're lying on your side and he's pressed up against you. He presses a few feather light kisses to the side of your neck.

He taps your stomach gently three times. "Goodnight, Starlight."

-

It's been five days since Joshua rebooted his system, and he may not want to admit it, but it didn’t fix his glitch with his hand.

You're in the lights district again. Soonyoung and Jeonghan are yapping about something. Mingyu is flirting with a girl at the bar, you're sitting at the table with Wonwoo, and Joshua.

Soonyoung walks over and pulls out a bag of blue dust. He holds it up towards you and gives you a wicked smile.

"Come on pretty girl, you know you wanna hit this." Soonyoung loves flirting with you. Joshua tries not to be fazed by Soonyoung, but it's hard sometimes.

"Soonyoung." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Last time you did this, I thought you and Joshua were gonna fuck on the dance floor." You instantly cringe at the reminder of what unfolded between you and your partner. His rejection still stings, but you understand why he did it.

"Knock it off." You respond.

"You act like you've never done dust before. My sweet Starry, we all know you're not miss innocent." Jeonghan fully focuses on what's unfolding.

"Soonyoung, knock it off. I don't know why you're flirting or antagonizing Starry, but you need to stop." Jeonghan put his hand on his shoulder.

"No drugs tonight." Joshua chimes in. He rests hand on your thigh, before giving it a squeeze.

"It's time for us to leave." You say.

You and Joshua get up and head out of the crowded club. You lace your fingers with Joshua, weaving your way through the club. Stepping outside, you notice the wet asphalt that has a neon glow reflecting off of it. You must have missed the rain while you were in the club.

Joshua releases your hand and grabs your helmet. "Where do you want to go?"

"I'm hungry."

"Do you want to go to Sarks?" Sarks is a little hole in the wall restaurant near your apartment.

"Yes."

Joshua helps you put on your helmet. Hoping on the bike, you sit behind Joshua with your arms wrapped around him. The ride to the restaurant isn't too long. This place has become a place that you and Joshua started coming to after late nights out. The place is located a couple blocks from your apartment. It's on the corner of a twelve story apartment building.

Walking inside, you're immediately told to pick your own table. This place is filled to the brim with people who work late. A few of the servers here are FleXeon androids, just like Joshua. Ever since you changed Joshua's software, you always wondered if you could change your favorite android Cherry's. She's a sweet girl, who was clearly programmed to act like the sweet girl next door. If Seungcheol's plan goes correctly, you want to give her the life she deserves.

She walks over to your booth and takes both your orders. You hand over the menu and watch as she walks away.

"What are you thinking about?" Joshua asks.

"I just hope if Cheol's plan goes correctly, maybe I can reprogram Cherry like I did you."

"She's sweet." Joshua looks over at your waitress putting your order into the system. "Does she just power down here every night?"

"Probably." It makes you sad to think about the fact that all she knows how to do is work. You aren't sure what Joshua's job was before you found him, but based on his original programming you're pretty sure he was supposed to be a sex bot.

"Cheol's plan will work, and we can save her. Maybe she can move in with some of the boys until we can help set her up." Joshua gives you a sweet smile.

"That's a good idea." You hope to help give other androids a life.

SYNTHETIC TEARS AND HIGH STRUNG EMOTIONS

You've both had the day off and you've spent the day locked away in your apartment.

Standing in the shower together, you watch as Joshua scrubs his shampoo into his hair. He stops moving and just stares at you with a blank stare. Immediately, you know his hand and possibly his arm is frozen. In the last couple days his glitch had gotten worse.

You don't want to fight about upgrading him, but you know that’s what you have to do.

His eyes start to dodge yours. He turns around so his back is to you. He finally gets his arm to move again. Stepping closer, you wrap your arms around him. Your cheek rests between his shoulder blades against his wet synthetic skin.

"I don't want to talk about it in the shower." He breaks the silence.

"Okay." You run your hand across the wet skin just below his bellybutton.

Getting out of the shower Joshua dries off quickly and pulls on a pair of sweats. By the way he rushes out of the bathroom you would swear he's avoiding you.

You take your time drying yourself off and applying your sweet scented lotions and oils. You get dressed in a pair of panties and baggy shirt.

Walking into the main living space, you find Joshua at the stove. He's making what you assume is ramyeon.

Heading over to the fridge you grab a bottle of juice. You look at Joshua watching as he's focused on cooking.

"I thought we should eat." He doesn't need food to survive. He only eats so he can feel more human.

"I'm hungry."

"Can you set the table?" It's clear he's trying to distract himself from the necessary conversation you need to have.

"Absolutely."

You grab some napkins and two pairs of chopsticks. Joshua dishes two bowls before bringing them over. He places the bowl in front of you. He sits down across from you.

You both eat in silencehe looming, much needed conversation, hanging over both of you like a dark cloud.

You take your first bite of ramyeon. Placing your chopsticks on the table, you give him a sad smile. He looks down at his empty bowl. Neither of you can avoid this any longer.

"Shua."

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I know."

"You have let me upgrade you. If you keep glitching like this, a systematic error could pop up in your software."

He doesn't say anything, he just stands up. He grabs both your dishes and walks over to the sink. He doesn't bother cleaning them. He just rinses them with water.

"Joshua." You stand you. You don't want to play games right now. You just want him to listen to you.

He walks towards the living area. You follow him closely.

"I don't want you to upgrade me. It's a mild glitch, I'm fine." He sits down on the couch with a huff.

"Clearly you're not fine." You love him so damn much, but sometimes he's too stubborn. "Your mild glitch will lead to something worse if you don't let me fix it."

"No." He leans back pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Joshua—" He stares at for a long moment before standing back up.

He doesn't respond. He just walks over to the big window that overlooks the city. You stand frozen in place near the couch.

"Joshua, stop being stubborn about this." You hate that he never makes this easy on you. "If I don't fix this, the error could be irreparable. If we're not careful, it could corrupt your software, and I could lose you. I need you to realize I don't think I could live without you."

He turns around and you instantly recognize the sadness in his eyes. "What if something happens when you upgrade me? I'm absolutely terrified I'm going to shut down for an upgrade and I won't remember a thing when I wake up." You have this same fear, but you trust yourself enough to know that won't happen.

"You have to trust me." He walks towards you in two big steps.

"I do trust you. Just like you can't live without me, I don’t want to exist if I don't remember everything we have."

He drops to his knees in front of you. He rests his head against your stomach. His arms wrap around you, holding you close. Mindlessly you run your fingers through his hair, helping to soothe him.

"I won't let anything go wrong." You close your eyes as tears slide down your cheek.

"You can do the upgrade." He pulls back, and you see his glossy eyes, slowly leaking tears. Just like humans, androids have the ability to cry. "Should we do it tonight?" He picks himself off the floor.

"Yeah."

He stands in front of you. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. Pulling away slightly his noses rest against yours. "I love you." You both are truly in love, but it's rare you say those three words. Normally, you communicate it by three simple taps on the other person's body.

"I love you too."

He laces his fingers with yours, leading you off to the bedroom. He releases your hand and walks over to the shelf by the window. He grabs your tablet that you use to monitor the software, and the cable that connects behind his ear.

He hands off the equipment and lays down on the bed, in the same spot he sleeps in every night.

He blankly stares at the ceiling. The vice grip on your heart is making you nauseous. This is the last thing you want to do. But you know this needs to be done.

"I'm sorry." You truly are. You wish that you didn't have to do this. Upgrading his system scares you, just as much as it scares him.

"It's okay, Starlight." He reaches out for your hand. He brings it towards his lips and presses three kisses to the top of your delicate skin. "I love you." He releases your hand.

Closing your eyes, you try your hardest not to cry. "I love you too."

Taking the cord, you connect it into the small port hidden behind his ear. Plugging it into your tablet, the hologram of his software pops up. You start taking away the coding of his software.

"The software update should take about four hours."

"Okay. Get some sleep while it updates." He glances over at you.

Crawling across the bed closer to him, you lean down and press your lips to his. You kiss him like this is the last time you might get to kiss him. "I'll be right next to you when you wake." You can't help the salty tears that slide down your cheeks.

He reaches up resting his hand on your cheek. "I'll see you in a little while."

He pulls his hand away. You start the updating process. His eyes turn bright blue before they go completely dark as he shuts down.

For the first hour of his update, you lay in bed next to him, watching the tablet to make sure nothing goes wrong. You stay awake until your eyes have grown too tired to stay open.

You dream of Joshua. You dream of a life away from this neon city. You find yourself laying in the tall grass under the warm sun, curled up in his arms. On your finger is a matching gold band that both you and him wear. There's a warmth that fills your chest, that he's your husband.

You're woken up to the feeling of the bed moving. Your eyes slowly flutter open, and you find Joshua awake, laying next to you.

"Joshua?" You’re terrified he won't have his memories.

"Hi, Starlight."

"Are you okay?" You push yourself up.

He nods and gives you a smile. "All my memories are still there."

All the worries that have been eating away at you instantly disappear. Your eyes instantly start to water.

"Baby, don't cry." He hates seeing you upset.

"I was so worried." You push the blanket off you. You push yourself up and crawl into his lap. He rests his hand on your cheek, brushing away your salty tears.

"I'm okay. No need to worry anymore."

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you crash your lips into his.

His strong hands roam your back under your shirt. You pull away from the kiss, long enough to pull off your shirt.

Joshua maneuvers both of you so you're on your back and he's hovering over you.

He leans in, pressing multiple kisses on your lips before he starts leaving a trail of kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

Not much is said as he kisses away his across your chest, taking his time to toy with each of you nipples. He tags his tongue across your stomach. He stops at the top of your panties.

You're impatient and just want him to touch you. "Shua—" you plead.

Hooking his fingers into the top of your panties, he slides them down your thigh. Lying in the bed, completely bare, you stare at him with a mixture of lust and love in your eyes.

"What do you want, Starlight?" Normally, you would tell him to fuck you, but right now, you don't want that. You want him to be as close as possible as he can be to you.

"I just want you."

A smile tugs at his lips. He hops off the bed and makes quick work of removing his sweatpants.

"I don't need foreplay, I just want you."

He walks over to the dresser and pulls out the little container of lube. Even though his cock is self lubricating, he needs to make sure you're wet enough for him. He crawls on to the bed towards you. Clicking the container open, he pours some of the cool lube onto your core. He takes his time massaging you and helping to prep you for his massive size. He clicks it shut again and starts pumping his length, helping to lube up his cock.

Spreading your legs wide, you welcome him. Sex between you is always passionate, and can sometimes be on the rougher side. Right now you don't want that. You just want things to be nice and slow.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, earning a gasp from you. "You feel so good."

Your hand talons into his shoulder pulling him closer to you. You want him as physically close as he can be. His nose rests against yours as he pushes the rest the way in, the tip of his length is kissing your cervix.

He's resting on his knees, practically plastered against you. Reaching up, you hold his face in your hands. He's not moving, he's giving your body a moment to adjust to his size.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." You say as tears slide down your cheek.

"You're the best thing that could have ever happened to me." He gives you a smile that makes you feel like mush. "I can't imagine a life where I'm not by your side."

He starts moving at a slow but deep pace. The room is filled with echoing sounds of skin hitting skin and your moans and whimpers.

Your hands roam his body, touching anywhere you can possibly reach. His lips are constantly on yours, or kissing the side of your neck. He gently nips at your skin, definitely leaving marks in his wake.

The feeling of his cock stretching you out, with each thrust is intoxicating. Reaching between your bodies, your fingers toy with your clit, helping to push you closer and closer to the edge.

"Baby I can tell you're close." He moans against your neck.

You rub your sensitive clit harder, pushing you closer to the edge. He pulls back so he's sitting on his knees between your spread legs. He lifts one of your legs resting it against his chest. He moves your hand away from your core. He rests his hand on your mound, and with his thumb he starts quickly rubbing your clit. Every muscle in your body tightens. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a loud moan. You high hits you like a ton of bricks.

Your orgasm hits hard and fast. Joshua never stops moving. He picks up his pace a little, chasing his own release.

"Please cum." You beg him.

He drops your leg and moves so he's hovering over you again. He crashes his lips into yours as he comes hard. He feels you to the brim with his sweet release.

Slowly, he stops moving, but doesn't pull out. He pulls his face away from yours and gives you the sweetest smile. "I love you."

Gently you tap his lower back three times. "I love you too."

He drags his thumb across your tear stained cheeks.

"I'm sleepy." You sigh.

"Let me clean you up, and then you can sleep."

Joshua slowly removes himself from you, before he takes his time cleaning you up. Neither of you bother getting dressed for bed, you both curl up in bed naked together.

OH THE LAVENDER HAZE

It's three in the morning and everyone is together for the big heist. Everything your crew has been working towards has led up tonight. Standing in Seungcheol's apartment you watch him as he stands in the kitchen area, talking to the girl who lives with him. She looks just as concerned as you would be if Joshua was going on this mission without you. The whole entire crew is here tonight.

Seungcheol walks back in. "Alright, here is the plan."

The plan is to split off into three separate crews. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Joshua will go in Mingyu's car where he'll act as the getaway driver.

Vernon, Chan, Jihoon, are gonna be running security outside the building.

You and Minghao are going to be breaking into the security office with Soonyoung to shut down the whole system and copy all the files.

"Any questions or concerns?" Seungcheol asks.

"Do we have another person with Starry and Hao?" Wonwoo asks. You glance over at Joshua to see he looks anxious. Soonyoung is a very capable person of keeping both of you safe. Soonyoung can be vicious and even deadly if he needs to be. You've seen him get into fights and they're terrifying. Minghao is also extremely capable of protecting both of you. The gun he keeps tucked into his waistband and the knife he keeps concealed is enough to keep you safe. You're pretty confident in your own fighting abilities. When you joined the crew, Soonyoung and Wonwoo taught you to fight to protect yourself.

"We'll be okay." You chime in.

Joshua grabs your hand. He instantly squeezes it and stares at you with the same anxious look.

"Let's go."

"I'm team one, Jihoon you're team two, and Soonyoung you're team three." Seungcheol says.

Everyone starts heading out of the apartment. You and Joshua linger behind for a moment. He takes your face in both hands. He smiles before leaning in for a searing kiss. It definitely feels as if this could be a goodbye kiss and that's scary. Joshua's team is not going to have it easy. They're going to have to take out a lot of guards.

"I love you, be safe." You say with your lips against his.

"I love you too, and you be safe as well. Listen to Hao and Soonyoung. They will both keep you safe."

Following everyone down to the cars, you get in the back seat of the car Soonyoung is driving.

It's pouring outside. The rain leaves the asphalt with a neon turquoise glow.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out Joshua's tablet. You open it up and immediately his hologram pops up. You scroll through his coding, making sure there are absolutely no errors in sight.

Minghao glances into the back seat. "He's going to be fine."

"I know." You close the tablet and stick it back in your bag. "I'm just worried."

"Quit stressing about your robo boy. He's going to be fine." Soonyoung chimes in.

Arriving at the FleXeon building, Minghao already has the cameras up. You're working on shutting down their alarm system. Mingyu's car pulls up behind you. Soonyoung reaches into his bag and pulls out ear pieces for all three of you.

"No matter what happens, you both need to listen to me." He says. You and Soonyoung might butt heads often, but you're well aware he's a good leader. He'll make sure nothing goes wrong. Getting out of the car, the three of you pull up your mask and your hoods. The rain helps your cover.

The alarm system is fully down and Minghao has tricked the system into thinking nothing is wrong. After many nights casing this place, Soonyoung leads you both off to the side door that's near the security office.

He makes quick work, knocking two guards unconscious. The three of you rush down to the hall to the security room. Minghao immediately plugs his device in and works on shutting down the security system.

Soonyoung is standing at the door with his gun drawn. You watch him carefully for a moment before you start sorting through the system coding.

The second you're into the file database you start making copies of everything.

-

The moment Soonyoung gives the signal that everything is clear, Seungcheol leads team one into the building. Seungcheol's goal tonight is to not only steal all the company's data, but to also steal any tech they're storing.

Heading up to the lab is where they encounter their first batches of guards. Seungcheol's original plan was to knock them unconscious, but when one of them sends a bullet slicing through Joshua's synthetic skin, that's when things take a turn. Jeonghan and Wonwoo are both incredibly good shots. The two of them take down most of the guards while Seungcheol and Joshua knock out the others.

Walking up to the lab door, they're relieved to see that the lock’s been shut off. Stepping inside Joshua winces at the sight of different androids like him. Some of them aren't fully built, while others look like they're fully operational.

Joshua walks over towards this. Wonwoo puts his hand on his shoulder. "We'll get them later."

Seungcheol starts searching around. He finds a latch that opens another door. In there they find the machine that makes lavender haze.

"Got ‘em." Seungcheol starts snapping photos of everything. He grabs his duffle bag and starts filling it with close to a million dollars worth of lavender haze. Jeonghan disappears for a while and comes back holding wads of cash.

"Where is that from?" Joshua asks.

"I found a room with a safe in it."

"How did you get the safe open?" Seungcheol asks.

"I shot it, obviously."

Wonwoo barks out a laugh, and Seungcheol just rolls his eyes.

"Wonwoo, go with Jeonghan and start filling all the bags with the money. Joshua, start taking the androids to the van."

-

Through the security camera's tablet, you watch as Joshua moves through the building quickly. He's carrying as many androids as he can to the van Mingyu is in. Mingyu is helping load them into the back quickly.

Tapping away at your computer, you know you probably have another twenty minutes until you have all the data copied over. Your goal once you're done is to send a virus to FleXeon’s system. You and Minghao worked together to make itto nearly impossible to stop viruses.

"How is team one doing?" Minghao asks Soonyoung.

"Cheol says they need another thirty."

"I can keep the system down." You respond, not bothering to look up from your device.

"I found all the hidden files for the formula for lavender haze." Minghao chimes in.

"Make double copies of that."

These passing twenty minutes are some of the most stressful of your life. The data has finished copying and you're making sure to monitor the cameras. Your eyes go wide when you see more security heading towards the room you're in.

"Soonyoung, code red."

"Fuck." He says. "Code red, code red." He says into his com.

"Minghao, are you good?"

"Yeah. We have everything copied."

"Launch the virus." You respond. You start typing away. You launch the virus into the system.

Seconds later, Soonyoung starts shooting down the hall. You hear Seungcheol yelling over the com to clear out. You and Minghao move quickly to grab all your stuff. Reaching into his waistband, he pulls out a gun, and Minghao holds it out to you. Without even thinking, you grab it. He grabs another gun from his bag.

Soonyoung grabs ammo from his bag, reloading the gun. "Hao, guard Starry and get her out of here."

Minghao turns to you. He takes your face in both his hands. You must look terrified. You've been with this group for a long time, and this is the first time you're worried you might die because of a job. "Starry, I promise you won't get hurt."

"Okay."

"Stay behind me, and keep your gun drawn." He keeps holding your face. "Joshua will kill us all if we let you get hurt."

"Fuck what about Shua?" You realize if you're in a gun fight it might not be clear at the lab.

"He's fine." He releases your face. "Just hold my hand until I let go." He takes your hand in his.

"Okay, go." Soonyoung gives you the signal.

Another set of guards are running up. Minghao leads you out towards the door with his gun drawn. He takes two shots by the two guards blocking the door.

"Run." He shouts. You run next to him with your gun drawn.

You practically throw your body against the doo,r breaking your way outside. Soonyoung follows behind you.

Standing in the pouring rain you look over towards Mingyu's van to see him and Joshua soaking wet, loading a machine into the back. The moment Joshua turns and looks at you, he pushes his wet dark hair away from his face. Instantly, you see the tear in his jacket, and the slice in his arm. You're frozen in place staring at him.

Gun fire rings out, startling you. Minghao grabs your hand dragging you towards the car.

You see Jihoon and his team sprinting towards the van. Soonyoung grabs you from Minghao and practically throws you into the back seat. The car speeds away before you can even react. Looking out the window, you watch as team one breaks out of the building with guards following behind them.

Your eyes water thinking about the danger you're leaving behind. It's the dead of night and the fluorescent city, is a buzz with the sound of blaring sirens. Soonyoung drives like a mad man to get back to Seungcheol's place.

Salty tears slide down your cheek as you think about the chaos that has unfolded. Minghao's phone rings and he's quick to answer. He doesn't say much, you just hear him repeat yes over and over. He hangs up the phone and is instantly calling another person.

Soonyoung glances in the mirror looking back at you. Quickly you avert your eyes, the last thing you need is him teasing you about the fact that you're crying.

"Seokmin." Minghao says. That name immediately catches your attention. You know he's a medic. He's stitched up the boys a few times. Your heart sinks, and nausea hits you quickly. "It's Jeonghan and Wonwoo."

The car is silent for a moment outside the sounds of distant sirens and the rain hitting the car.

"Not fatal. Jeonghan was shot in the shoulder and Wonwoo in the ribs." He pauses again. "Cheol said Wonwoo was grazed pretty deeply."

"Soonyoung—"

"They're fine." He quickly responds. "Hao said he's not fatal. Seokmin will stitch them up.”

"Just meet us at Cheol's asap." Minghao hangs up.

Soonyoung pulls into the dark parking garage. Getting out of the car, you grab yourself. Soonyoung looks around making sure you're not being watched. You all rush towards the elevator.

Minghao presses the button and instantly the doors slide open. Stepping inside, Soonyoung quickly hits the close button over and over.

The elevator rattles as it heads up to the tenth floor. You blankly stare down at your shoes.

"They're fine." Minghao finally speaks. "They just need stitches."

The doors slide open. You all practically run down the hall to Seungcheol's apartment. Soonyoung punches in the code, and the door slides open. Sitting on the couch near the window, you find the sweet girl who lives with Seungcheol. She jumps at the sudden intrusion.

Soonyoung puts up his hands letting her know we aren't a threat. "It's just us. Seungcheol is on his way home."

"Is he okay?" You've never actually heard her speak before. Her voice is quiet and full of fear.

"Yeah he is." Soonyoung slowly puts his hands down. Silently she gets off the couch and rushes out of the room.

Minghao grabs his bag and walks over to the table. "Can I have the drive with the lavender haze formula?"

You reach into your pocket and grab one of the two drives that hold the information. You toss it over to him. He plugs it into his computer and starts typing away.

"What are you doing?" Soonyoung asks.

"I'm concealing some of the formula and anonymously leaking it."

There is a knock on the door. Soonyoung grabs his gun and walks over. He pulls the door open with his gun drawn. Instantly he puts it down at the sight of Seokmin.

Seokmin comes in and starts getting out all the supplies he'll need.

The door flings open and the rest of the crew follows in. Wonwoo limps in with the help of Joshua and Mingyu. Jeonghan is being helped by Seungcheol. Jihoon, Chan and Vernon follow in behind them.

Joshua stares at you with wide eyes. Everything is so chaotic that neither of you have time to talk.

"Vernon, do you remember how to do stitches?" Seokmin asks.

"Yeah." Vernon walks towards him.

"Okay, I'm going to need you to take Wonwoo to the restroom and full-clean out his wound and then stitch him up." Seokmin reaches into his bag and pulls out everything Vernon will need. "Mingyu and Soonyoung please help Vernon."

Everyone listens to Seokmin and takes Wonwoo off to the bathroom. Seungcheol brings Jeonghan towards Seokmin.

"We need to remove his jacket and I need to see if there is an exit wound." Jihoon and Seungcheol take a very dazed Jeonghan into the kitchen.

Joshua rushes towards you. He pulls you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. "Starlight, I was so worried about you."

"I'm fine, Hao and Soonyoung kept me safe." You pull away and glance at his torn synthetic skin. "I need to fix this later."

"Okay."

You hear Jeonghan scream. You take off towards the kitchen where you see Seungcheol holding him down as Seokmin is digging the bullet out of his shoulder.

You wince when you see a very obviously in pain Jeonghan let out another scream. You walk closer to him. He's turning his head away from his injury, wincing.

Reaching out, you rest your hand on his cheek. "Hannie, it's okay." His eyes go wide looking at you. "It's okay." You wish there was some way you could soothe him.

"Chan, get me a syringe of numbing meds from my bag." Seokmin shouts.

Moments later, Chan comes rushing in. Seokmin gives Jeonghan a full shot of the numbing meds. His eyes droop slightly as they instantly take effect.

Joshua grabs your hand, leading you away from the chaos. Moving into the living room, you sit on the couch feeling dazed. Wonwoo comes out of the bathroom with the help of Mingyu.

They sit next to each other on the other couch. Seokmin shouts for Joshua's help. He leaves you alone for a moment. Seungcheol heads out the kitchen and instantly heads towards the room Angel is in. He must be going to check on her.

Joshua walks out of the kitchen carrying Jeonghan. Jihoon leads them off towards Seungcheol's room. Seokmin walks out of the kitchen with his shirt stained with blood. Soonyoung walks of the bathroom.

"Is Jeonghan okay?" Soonyoung asks.

"Yeah. We knocked him out because he was in pain, but the bullet is out and stitched up. Luckily, it missed all the major arteries." Seokmin says.

Seungcheol heads back in and gives everyone the run down and then gives everyone a bag with money in it.

"This is just cash. I'll have more coming later." He lets out a sigh and pushes his fingers through his hair. "We can have another meeting in a couple days when Jeonghan is feeling better."

"Breaking news." The tv turns on blaring. "FleXeon is being exposed for producing the very illegal drug known as lavender haze. Police arrived on site now at the CEO house. The company is now under investigation."

Soonyoung barks out a laugh. "Looks like we were successful."

"Everyone keep your heads low for a little while." Seungcheol says.

MEET ME IN THE AFTERGLOW

Arriving back at your apartment, you sit down Joshua at the table and work on fixing his arm that's sliced open.

"They missed your wiring." His wiring is essentially his arteries. "If they hit those I might have had to rewire your arm." You know he's listening to you, but he's completely silent as he stares at the floor in front of him. "This is a simple fix."

"Does this feel weird having to fix your robot boyfriend? If I was human you wouldn't have to worry about my wiring." He glances up at you.

"If you were human, you could have been in bad shape like Wonwoo and Jeonghan." At this point you prefer he's a robot. You never have to worry about him getting sick or hurt like that.

"Do you wish I was human?" There's a deep rooted sadness behind his eyes.

"No, not at all. I promise, I've never once wished you were human." You aren't lying. Never once have you had that thought. You finish working on his arm, and move so you're standing in front of him.

"I wish I was human."

Reaching out you take his face in both hands. "I've never wanted you to be anything else." His eyes are wide and glossy. Slowly you drag your thumb across his cheek. "I love you for who you are."

"I love you too." He closes his eyes leaning into your touch. Leaning down you press your lips into his for a sweet kiss.

Stepping back, you walk off into the kitchen to wash your hands. Looking over, you watch as Joshua stands up. He walked over to the big window that looks out into the city. In the distance, the sun is starting to rise. The sky is becoming shades of cotton candy pink and orange.

"When I heard the first gun shot, I was scared they were going to take you from me." Joshua says as he blankly stares towards the windows.

Walking over, you stand in front of him and wrap your arms around his stomach. "I was scared too, but I knew the boys would keep me safe."

"Starlight, look at me please." You step back and look up at him. "Right now, I just want to be with you."

"Okay."

You aren't surprised when he reaches down and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. Crashing your lips into his, you kiss him as if you need him to breathe.

He pulls his lips away long enough to lead you both to the bedroom. In between kisses, you both strip away your clothes.

Laying on the bed with your legs spread wide, he eats you out like a man starved. He plays with you until you fall apart not once but twice. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close to your needy pussy.

Crawling up your body, he crashes his lips into yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it's absolutely intoxicating.

You aren't sure what his plan is, but all you know is you want him in any possible way. He grinds his already hard length against your core over and over, until you're moaning into his mouth. Practically on the brink of falling apart again.

"Shua—" you whine as he pulls away.

He moves so he's sitting with his back against the headboard. You waste no time crawling across the bed to get to him.

Sitting on his lap, you card your fingers through his dark hair. Lifting your hips, you reach down, lining his cock up with your needy entrance. Ever so slowly, you sink down on his length, inch by thick inch. He's snug inside you, but neither of you move. He looks up at you with needy eyes.

Neither of you seem to have any desire to move. You could sit on his cock for hours, and he would do anything to stay inside you forever.

"I have never and will never love anyone like I love you." You can't explain the love you feel for him.

"We may not be able to get married, but you're my wife." His sweet words earn a smile from you. He's never called you his wife, but you could get used to him calling you that.

"Are you going to buy me a ring with the money we just got?" You hold up your bare hand. You could actually care less about a ring, you honestly just want to tease him a little.

"I'll buy you anything you could possibly want." Leaning forward, he presses his lips to yours for a searing kiss. "Anything my pretty wife could ever want, I'll give her." He says between kisses.

Lifting your hips, you pull yourself off of him, until only the tip is left inside. You tug his hair back so he's looking up at you. Slowly you drop back down. He's so long he's practically bruising your cervix. Rolling your hips, your clit brushes against his pelvis.

Joshua's hands are anywhere they can touch. He doesn't help guide your movements yet. He'll help you move once he knows you're too tired.

Biting your bottom lip, you try your hardest to hold back your moans. His wet lips start leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your breast. He takes his time teasing each of your pert nipples. He gently bites your nipple earning a moan.

"Josh—" you cry out.

He pulls away smiling. "Baby you feel so good."

You pick up your pace, desperately chasing your high. Reaching down your fingers quickly start rubbing your clit.

"I love watching you play with yourself." He moans with his lips against your neck.

Your orgasm is like a white hot ecstasy. Throwing your head back you cry out in pleasure. Salty tears slide down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling. You two have had a lot of sex, but this feels extra intense. Your walls flutter around his cock like an erratic heartbeat. Your lips are parted as mindless moans pass your lips over and over.

Without saying anything, his large hands grip your hips and he helps guide you up and down his massive length. Your high is barely settled and he's pushing you right to the edge all over again.

"Fuck—" you whine.

"Can you cum again?" He asks.

Wordlessly you nod. He's fucked you to the point you aren't even sure if you can form proper words. He’s guiding you up and down, practically impaling you on his massive length over and over again.

Your orgasm hits both of you at the same time. He holds you down flush against him as he fills you to the brim with his sweet and sticky release.

Your body goes limp leaning against him. His hand runs up and down your back slowly, helping you relax.

"You did so good." He knows exactly how to praise you. Your mind can't process much other than the two mind numbing orgasms you just had back to back.

"Baby, I need to clean you up."

"Just let me lay here." You sigh.

He lets you stay sitting on his lap for about twenty minutes before he forces you to take a shower with him.

After showering you don't even bother getting dressed for bed after he dries you off. Curled up in bed together, your head is resting on his chest. Mindlessly he's drawing different shapes on your back.

"If you want, we could have a little wedding with our group. It doesn't have to be official, but they'll be there to witness us getting married." You say.

"I would like that. I meant it when I said you're my wife."

"And you're my husband."

What you have may not be conventional by any means. But the love you feel for each other is what people dream about finding. You know there is still a lot to be done by making sure FleXeon doesn't come back, and you and Minghao need to work on reprogramming the FleXeon androids. But for just a little while, you want to have time with Joshua. You don't want to think about an evil corporation. You just want to think about the future you have with Joshua.

Tonight’s target is a man named Arthur Kim. Age forty-three, married, with two daughters𑁋assigned to be executed under the orders of the Dominion for illegally accessing financial streams and attempting to sell them to some brokers located in the Undercity. A fatal error that costed him his entire life, and Minghao was sent to deliver the act within a termination window of two hours.

Minghao didn’t need all that time. 

In due time, the ocular implant in his eye pings, immediately locking onto the target’s heat signature through the reinforced glass and walls. Minghao narrows his gaze, heat mapping across his vision, following the man’s dull amber silhouette frantically pacing inside of his dimly lit and expensive apartment, as if already knowing what’s about to come.

A forty metre gap separates the two buildings. Minghao steps into the void without any hesitation. The wind roars past him as he launches himself off the ledge, his coat flaring out like wings. Twin magnetic grapples fire out from the wrist of his right bionic arm with a sharp hiss, cables flying across the chasm until they latch onto the Helix Tower’s exterior frame. 

At the apex of the launch, he releases the grapples and twists his body into a controlled dive towards the window. The second he makes contact, reinforced glass explodes inward as his boots smashes cleanly through Arthur Kim’s window, causing shards to rain across the carpet floor like confetti. 

The man in question spins around too late, eyes blown wide with utter panic, clutching nothing but a half-empty glass of whiskey in his trembling hand and useless revolver in the other that he shakily points directly at Minghao.

“Don’t… don’t come any closer!” he begs, fingers twitching around the trigger. “I have connections𑁋I-I have a family, a wife, two little girls𑁋I can pay𑁋”

Minghao doesn’t speak. He never does on missions like this. Words are wasted on the already dead.

Instead, he crosses the room in three, perfect strides, way faster than any modified human should. Arthur attempts to shoot, but the revolver kicks back into his grip and causes the bullet to go wide and harmlessly punch into the wall directly behind Minghao, barely grazing the edge of his temple. The second bullet misses again and punches a smoking hole through a video holographic family portrait that flickers and dies mid-laugh.

When Arthur tries to bolt towards the door, Minghao cuts him off with a firm seize to his throat with his cybernetic hand, lifting the man clean off the floor and knocking the breath out of his lungs with a choked gasp. The synthetic muscles and servos whirr softly under the plating as Arthur’s legs kicked uselessly through the air, causing the whiskey glass and gun to slip free out of his hands. 

Arthur’s screams are muddled when a sudden boom of thunder vibrates the world outside. Minghao doesn’t budge, even as the man claws at his grip with both hands. Forty-three years of soft living against a body rebuilt for war𑁋there was never a contest. 

Minghao tightens his hold ever so slightly. Not enough to fully incapacitate yet. He wants the man to feel it, to feel the consequences of his actions with a teasing crush to his windpipe. The ocular implant in his left eye feeds him live data: heart rate 179… 203… oxygen saturation plummeting from 97% to 47%. It isn’t long until Arthur’s face bloats and washes into a deep crimson. Veins stand out like ropes along his temples. His eyes bulge, whites shot through with burst capillaries, tears leaking from the corners as his tongue presses thickly against his teeth.

Nothing but a wet, gurgling choke escapes him, barely audible over the storm raging outside and Minghao’s ironclad grip. “Please… my girls…”

The man continues to spew out gargled, pathetic words𑁋about his family who he only wanted to provide for, his wife who didn’t know anything, his innocent little girls𑁋and Minghao doesn’t feel a single ounce of remorse for it. He was assigned a task to complete. There was nothing programmed in him for mercy or pity. 

When Minghao squeezes his fingers a fraction tighter, Arthur’s windpipe collapses with a wet, sickening pop. His eyes roll back completely in his head, his face drained of colour, as one final spasm jerks through his body before his arms drop limp to his side. Minghao holds him suspended in the air for a full ten seconds after the heart monitor flatlines before opening his hand.

Arthur’s body falls to the floor with a thud, sprawling among the glass shards and spilled whiskey. A thin stream of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth and pools beside his lifeless eyes. Updated data swarms through Minghao’s vision.

Target: Arthur Kim — TERMINATED Elapsed Time: 8 minutes, 53 seconds

Minghao exhales a breath through his nose, rolling his shoulders back. The servos under his bionic arm hum faintly through the movement of his artificial joints, recalibrating itself from the temporary exertion. Eight minutes and fifty-three seconds. It’s somewhat sloppy by his standards, but the noise of the storm did well to hide most of the struggle. Still, the Dominion would be satisfied with his work as they always are. 

He crouches beside the corpse, metal fingers brushing against the man’s neck to confirm zero pulse. Rain pours in from the shattered window, mixing in with the whiskey and the small pool of blood at his feet. This was definitely one of his messier missions, but the cleanup crew will do their task when he leaves.

He does a quick scan around the room, cycling through spectral overlays𑁋motion, thermal, electromagnetic. No alarms or security drones are detected. Arthur Kim had been arrogant enough to hide behind privacy glass and a single biometric lock on his door. What an amateur. 

The apartment is dead silent now, except for the storm outside slowly beginning to dull out. But what catches him for a split second is the glitchy sound of laughter. Minghao shoots a glance toward the broken holographic family portrait that Arthur had shot at just moments ago.

His gaze lingers on the screen as it flickers erratically. What remains is a looping fragment: Arthur Kim smiling wide with his arms looped around another woman, and two small girls in front of them, both of them with equally big grins as if the world had never once been cruel. The audio stutters with one of the girls saying, “Daddy, look! I drew you a𑁋” before restarting the loop again. 

Minghao forcibly tears his eyes away. He forces out a flat exhale through his nose, turning his back on the portrait entirely. Sentiment was a luxury for the wealthy civilians; for him, it was just irrelevant data. He mindlessly steps over Arthur’s corpse and treads his way toward the shattered window, climbing onto the rain-slicked ledge without looking back. 

The wind claws onto him immediately, trying to sweep him off the building. He activates the magnetic grapples through his hand and anchors onto the opposite structure. With one powerful pull, he’s airborne again, swinging across the forty-metre gap like a shadow trailing through the void. Then he finds himself running across the rooftop before stopping right at the edge.

Below him, the city continues its restless slumber. Minghao watches it all distantly.

Then he jumps down into the void as the rain washes away the city’s sins. 

This time, the fall felt a little longer than it should have. 

perm taglist (open) ʚɞ

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THE SWEET LINGERING OF 2014

When Jun turned eighteen, he celebrated it in the practice room surrounded by his twelve brothers who were undoubtedly more excited than he was. Being the fourth oldest in the group, it was almost like there was a routine now when their members were about to have their soulmark coming of age. He doesn’t quite remember how they established the tradition but it was probably something that Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Jihoon had done – as the overall leaders.

He remembered when Seungcheol had turned eighteen and Jun felt overwhelmed for him; it wasn’t the easiest being the oldest of the group and being the person that everyone looked up to. Turning eighteen was sort of a milestone for them, to know what to expect when they too turned eighteen someday. 

He remembered how Seungcheol had blown out the candles on top of the cake set out for him by the staff and looked around as twelve pairs of eyes stared at him.

“Do you feel anything, hyung?” He remembered Seungkwan, who was normally scared of the older boy asking, making Seungcheol shake his head before he paused mid-shake.

Seungcheol's brows furrowed as he let out a groan, holding his head in his hands as the members scrambled around him, asking him what was wrong. “I just got a sudden headache.” Seungcheol managed to mutter out before Jun saw the staff noting it down onto their tablet.

That was the start of the routine: with Seungcheol getting the Pain Soulmark, Jeonghan celebrating next and getting a number written on his wrist and Joshua who thought he was markless, had shrieked in the toilet finding a faint silhouette of a handprint on his chest. 

Jun fiddled with his fingers as they wrapped up practice in the green room, looking at the cake that the staff had prepared as the rest of the members were buzzing with anticipation, more specifically Soonyoung.

“Jun!” Soonyoung exclaimed, making the former jump in surprise as the energetic boy grabbed both his shoulders. “Are you excited?”

Jun opened his mouth to respond but Soonyoung had already breezed past. “I can’t believe you’re getting your mark today and I’ll be getting mine in 5 days time!”

Jun blinked as Soonyoung continued to ramble on and on about how excited he was for the mark and how he couldn’t wait to meet his other half. He managed to tune the boy out as he glanced towards Chan and Minghao at the side who were staring at the older boy with amusement and unamusement respectively. The latter glanced at Jun, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if the older boy was okay. Jun let out a tentative smile and nod, not wanting to alert the younger boy of his nerves.

Jun watched as Minghao’s eyebrows furrow, seemingly not believing him but lets the topic drop as the staff gathered the boys, placing the cake in front of Jun. Jun glanced at the cake, nerves pricking the edges of his skin before he felt someone brush up against his side. He turned to see Minghao sitting to his right, placing a hand on his with a reassuring smile, stopping the unconscious fiddling of fingers that Jun was doing.

“Don’t be nervous.” Minghao whispered to him in their native tongue. “You’ve been waiting for this day for ages.”

He was right.

To say that Jun was excited to get his mark, would be an understatement. Ironic, he thinks, even as he grew up in a slightly broken home where his parents had gotten divorced when he was two years old. His father and mother got married knowing that they weren’t soulmates, almost as if they were trying to game the system. His mother told him that they were happily married for a while before his father had found his actual soulmate and that was the end of their marriage. He remembered her comparing it to a ticking timebomb. They loved each other but they didn't complete each others' souls.

He remembered how much pain she was holding even as she decided to raise him on her own, challenging every social norm as a single mother before fate finally brought her soulmate to her. Bumping into each other at a supermarket that was actually out of the way from where his mother normally goes, a true meet cute if you asked him.

Fast forward many years later, they’re happily married and Jun has never felt more loved.

He snapped out of his thoughts as the members began to sing happy birthday, making him give a small smile as he made a wish and blew out the candles right as the clock struck twelve.

“Do you feel anything?” Soonyoung burst out before yelping as Jihoon smacked the back of his head, hissing at him to calm down. Jun began to search his limbs for marks, words or anything that would be an indication that he has a soulmate. Coming back blank made his heart sink. He couldn’t be markless, could he?

He felt Minghao press more into his right side, a hug it seems as he watched the members quieten down upon seeing his reaction.

He takes a sharp inhale. “I don’t feel anything.” he softly said as he fiddled with his fingers, silently cursing himself.

He wanted to be strong for his younger members, especially because he knew that the thought of being markless scared the maknaes more than they’d like to admit, especially Chan. 

He plastered on a fake smile, swallowing his emotions before taking the plastic knife and cutting into the cake in front of him. “It’s fine,” he muttered out. “It might be something that can’t be seen or felt… I think I just need to be patient.”

The tension in the room was palpable. The members glanced at each other as Jun pretended not to notice, his heart wrenching slightly as he wished that he could cut the tension with the knife in his hand.

Jun felt himself going on autopilot, continuing to cut the cake as his head swirled with doubts. Why didn’t he get a soulmark? Was he just not fated to have a soulmate? Was there something wrong with him?

He felt his spiral halt when he felt arms drape around his shoulders, as someone leaned on him. He peered up to see Seungkwan hanging off him, almost nonchalantly. Seungkwan raised an eyebrow at Jun’s staring before nudging him, urging him to continue to cut the cake.

Before he could, the knife was plucked out of his hand making Jun peer up to see Seungcheol, who nudged Jun out of the way to sit in front of the cake.

“Move.” Seungcheol said, nudging Jun away again as he continued cutting from where Jun left off. 

Jun blinked at the older boy before a plate was shoved into his hands. “Eat your birthday cake Jun!” Jeonghan singsonged, sticking a fork into the cake. “You know it’s bad luck if the birthday boy doesn’t eat his own cake first?”

Jun managed a weak smile at the older boy before he noticed words appear on Jeonghan’s arm: a sign from his soulmate. Jeonghan glanced at it, a small smile on his lips before placing his arm behind his back, away from prying eyes.

“Oops, made the missus mad.”

“You shouldn’t even be lying so much in the first place.” Minghao muttered, bringing a piece of the cake to his mouth. “The poor girl probably has so many numbers and words staining her skin everyday.” Jeonghan flicked his forehead, making the younger boy yelp before turning back to Jun.

“Better eat up, otherwise the lie would be for nothing.” Jeonghan said pointedly, but Jun could hear the faint fondness in his tone that could've been missed if they hadn’t spent the past two years training with each other.

Jeonghan took a plate before skipping towards the other end of the room, no doubt to tease (read, infuriate) his soulmate by lying so that he can talk to her. Jun peered at the cake in his hands before looking around the room to where all his members sat.

Seungcheol, who was cutting the cake while talking to Joshua, who was helping him to plate them whilst nodding, invested in their conversation as he passed the plate to Jihoon without even looking at him. Jihoon then passed it to Mingyu and Chan, who were sitting in the corner eating the cake with Vernon and Soonyoung. Mingyu, Chan and Soonyoung were talking animatedly while Vernon watched them, smiling at their comments.

He peered to the other corner of the room where Jeonghan, Wonwoo and Seokmin were, cracking jokes before his eyes ended up at Minghao who was leaning against him and Seungkwan who was hanging off of him. He watched as Minghao fed Seungkwan a piece of cake before feeding himself some and Jun smiled fondly as his thoughts calmed down.

Maybe he wasn't destined to have a soulmate but fate was kind enough to send him something else, something better. It sent him twelve brothers who really knew him in their heart and they really knew his soul. He felt the lingering of something on his tongue, some sweet thing that he couldn't name as he felt his heart swell at the information that he had just digested which made his smile grow even wider and softer.

Minghao nudged him. "Are you okay?" he asked softly in their native tongue as Seungkwan turned towards him as well. Jun nodded, using his fork to cut through the cake and placed it into his mouth tasting the sweet cream of the cake before turning to the two younger boys and giving them a smile.

"Never better."

However, even as the taste of the cake faded, Jun remained oblivious to the sweet taste on the tip of his tongue.

THE ACCOSTED MALA TASTEBUDS OF 2016

The moment the clock struck midnight on your eighteenth birthday, you swore your soulmate hated his tastebuds.

To your parents, turning eighteen was on par or even more important than turning twenty-one. Soulmates was all your parents ever talked about, how they were friends turned lovers when they both had turned eighteen. Their only wish was that you and your siblings could experience the same. So, when you were on the cusp of turning eighteen, they pulled out all the stops.

“Mum,” you started, staring at the wall of decorations and table filled with presents that looked like it was one more present away from collapsing on the floor. “I think you might have gone a tad bit o–” Your older brother immediately covered your mouth before you could finish your sentence. “—outdone! She meant outdone mum! It looks amazing!” Your brother finished for you, giving you a side-eye that said ‘proceed with caution’ which made you roll your eyes at the older boy.

Your mum breezed at your brother's comment. “Thank you dear! Just trying to make sure your sister gets the same party that we did for you last year!” She exclaimed as she made her way to the storeroom to possibly get more streamers.

You silently mourned all the lost trees before turning to your brother, crossing your arms. “You didn’t need to step in Chris.”

“And let you ruin mum and dad’s best day ever?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Yeah right.”

“You do know it’s my birthday right?”

“Yeah but you don’t care as much about this as them, so let them have it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Unlike your parents, eighteen really didn’t mean that much to you, you were going to be bound to a stranger for the rest of your life which meant that the next few years of your life would be going on dates, questioning if this was the right person or if the soulmarks match up and if they didn’t, it was inevitable that there's either no second date, or a break-up.

You practically didn’t really believe in soulmates either. Why did the universe have to decide who was the best person for you to match with? Why couldn’t you make the decision yourself?

“Besides,” Chris continued, taking a seat on the streamer draped couch. “You are their one shot right now at proving their stories are true.”

“You’re talking as if you aren’t turning nineteen and that Hannah and Lucas are not going to have the same celebration when they turn eighteen.”

“But,” Chris pointed at you to emphasize his point. “You’re their only shot right now.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. "And whose fault is that huh?"

Chris feigned an offended look and exasperatedly gasped as you plopped down onto the couch next to him. “What?!”

You smacked his shoulder as he let out a yelp. “Don’t ‘what’ me,” you said, continuing to hit him despite his protests. “If you didn’t decide to join the label, you’d probably have found your soulmate by now!”

Your older brother Chris was also known as Bang Chan to the rest of the world. Having been musically talented since young, it was almost inevitable that he would end up becoming an idol in Korea. That meant crushing your parents' dream of him finding his soulmate early as he was still a trainee and that meant that dating was a huge no-no.

You were happy for him, you truly were. Being his younger sister, you had first dibs on listening to all his garage or attic produced music and you couldn’t be more proud of what your brother has achieved, especially with his upcoming debut.

What you weren’t happy with was the fact that while your parents were struggling with the news, Chris had the awesome idea to throw you under the bus in his stead. He stated that it was the reason you were born a year after him, making you the perfect candidate to live out their stories which turned their attention onto you.

You felt like throwing him under an actual bus as soon as he had suggested that.

“I’m sor- ow - sorry, can we plea– OW, stop assaulting me with the pillow!” Chris yelped out as you kept hitting him with the pillow. “I should be using things other than pillows for the pressure you put me under, its too much!” You spat out, hitting him a few more times before he caught the pillow and ripped it out of your grasp.

“Okay! Okay! I get it.” Chris said, dodging your movement of getting the pillow back. “I’m sorry for putting you under this much pressure but,” He shot you a look. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to what your soulmark is.”

“You know about my thoughts on soulmates Chris.” You said softly, sinking back into the couch as you eyed the decorations sprinkled across the family living room. “I just hate that my life feels like it's predetermined just because of this person that I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with.”

You couldn’t bear to look at your brother although you could already feel his eyes on you as silence enveloped the living room. “Maybe you aren’t scared of the person,” Chris started slowly, making you raise your head to meet his eyes, “but more of the uncertainity that comes with it.”

His tone was soft but his words were firm and hit harder than you thought it would. He had a point, he always did. “Don’t be scared, the universe decided them for you, whoever it is, they are meant to be half of your own soul. I was scared when I got my soulmark too.” Chris said softly, his fingers tracing the half tattoo on his forearm. “But they will love you for who you are, and what you will become. You’re amazing and they will definitely see all those trademarks too.”

Your nerves dissipated little by little as your brother's words sunk in. “Thank you Channie.” you breathe out as you give your brother a side hug. He gave you a side smile, hugging you back as he used his other hand to ruffle your hair.

“Can’t wait to see who will actually match this gremlin energy of yours.” He joked which made you let out a scoff, playfully giving him a small smack on his side as he continued to laugh before he abruptly quietened.

You peered up at him and your heart sank a little as you watched him stare at the half tattoo, his eyes filled with hope and longing. You felt a little guilty for chastising your brother so much, unlike you, he didn’t have a choice of taking steps to finding his soulmate unless he meets her at the label or through shoots. He would need to actually wait for fate to take the reign and bring her to him.

You reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “You know,” you started slowly, giving him the time to lock eyes with you. “I read somewhere that if you trace the soulmark, your soulmate can feel that you're thinking about them.”

Chris stared at you, his eyes widening slightly. “Did you just quote a soulmate myth?”

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly as you attempted to glare at your brother. “Don’t push it.”

His face broke out into a mischievous grin. “Look at you, Miss I-Don’t-Believe-In-Soulmates.”

You groaned at his words as you gave him a shove. “Shut up!”

He chuckled a little more before looking straight at you, his grin softening into a soft smile. “You really think she can feel it?”

You mirrored his soft smile. “I’m sure she can Channie. I’m sure you’ll feel it when she does it too.”

Chris gives you a smile back before bumping your shoulder. "So, tell me about the internship!"

Your grin got wider at that, making you sit up straighter, fully facing your older brother.

Ever since you could remember, food had been a big part of your life, almost like how music was apart of your big brothers. Like how producing and music came easy to him, baking came easy to you.

Baking had been your safe space for as long as you could remember. When you were younger, your mother had been trying to bake a red velvet cake for Chris's seventh birthday. Being six and looking up to your mother, you wanted to try it as well. Your mother relented after you had begged her multiple times and was shocked when you were a whiz in the kitchen.

You could crack eggs, take measurements as if it was written in your blood and mix with the hands of a master baker. You were a natural and that was where you fell in love with it.

From that experience, was where you earned the nickname, Red. Part of it was because you were a whiz in the kitchen, but the main reason was because your parents had caught you, dead in the night, the day after your brother's birthday, stuffing your face with the remaining cake. With all the frosting all over your mouth and having eaten almost half of the remainder, it was endearing to say the least.

As you grew older, you opened a food blog, upon Chris's request as a way for him to keep tabs on your food journey even when he was in Korea doing his music. You learned how to take proper pictures, what were the right words to use for describing the food you were making, how to hook people to the blog as well as how to put a touch of yourself in all the baked crafts that you created.

Which lead you to this exact moment.

Two months ago, Gourmet Traveler posted that they were looking for an intern for the summer break that was willing to learn all that they had to offer. Being a huge fan since you were young, you spent many late nights perfecting your CV, perfecting every blog post that you had as well as preparing a video to state why you were the perfect fit for the role.

You spent the better half of your exam period, checking your emails for a response and upon seeing the ad receive almost over 2000 applicants, you were almost sure that you didn't get it. You were a bit upset at first, it was definitely your dream to get in but Chris called you, gave you a pep talk about how they didn't know what they were missing and it made you feel a lot better.

However, when you were lazing around on call with Chris, animatedly talking about the plans you guys had when he came back for your birthday, a 'ping' was heard from your laptop. You lazily walked over to it, clicking as you hummed, listening to Chris talk about how you guys should go get frozen yogurt when he was back. You giggled and was about to agree until your eyes landed on the new email that just came in titled 'Congratulations' which was from the magazine company in-charge of Gourmet Traveler.

Your eyes widened as you open the email, screening through the email before letting out a squeal, startling your brother who dropped the phone on his face with a 'thud'. You heard him let out a muffled curse as he was about to start scolding you, but you immediately turned the camera around to the acceptance letter making his own eyes widen as you both started shouting together.

Which lead you to this moment.

"It's so fun!" You squealed out to your brother, squeezing his hand tighter. "They brought me along to interview one of the new home bakers the other day and let me put in some of the questions that I thought we should ask!" You say, recalling the look on your managers face when he had approved the ideas. "I also got to write my own mini-section for the article coming out this weekend!"

Your brothers eyes widen at that. "Red!" He shouts out, "That's amazing!" He nudges you with his shoulder. "I guess we know what we're doing this weekend!" His eyes sparkle, full of pride, as he pulls his hand away from yours, starting to count.

"We need one for each of us as a keepsake, we also need to buy one extra for us to keep in a frame." He rambles, listing it off on his fingers. "OH! I'm sure Dad, Mum, Hannah and Lucas would also like a copy! And the guys! They were so happy when you got the internship so that's," His eyes widen, "Fourteen copies!"

You laugh, choking slightly on your own saliva from laughing so hard as you shove your brother.

"You're such a dumbass!"

Chris lets out an exasperated gasp. "How can you say that?!" He shoves you back, "Is it wrong for me to be proud of my baby sister?"

You roll your eyes, the smile never leaving your face as he grabs your hand again with a sincere smile on his face.

"Seriously though," He starts, looking at you, his eyes shining with pride, "I'm really proud of you Red."

Your heart swells, squeezing your joint hands before the lights turn off making you jump with a small yelp. You turn towards the kitchen to see your parents bring out a cake with the candles already lit, slowly singing happy birthday. A smile made its way onto your way as you glanced at the clock.

23:58pm

You took a deep breath as your parents put the cake in front of you, your brother's hand anchoring you as he gave it yet another squeeze before letting go for you to have your moment. Your heart thundered in your chest as you looked at the beautiful homemade red velvet cake in front of you that makes a smile appear on your face.

“Make a wish darling!” Your mum exclaimed, snapping you out of your thoughts as she clapped her hands together. 

You glanced at Chris who had a reassuring smile on his face before glancing back at the cake and closing your eyes, briefly making a wish before you opened them and blew out the candle right as your house was filled with a ding.

Your parents looked at you expectantly, eyes wide as you shifted nervously under their intense gazes.

“Do you feel anything Red?” Your dad asked, shifting excitedly on his feet. You nervously checked the underside of your arms before moving to your legs and shaking your head.

“I don’t–”

As soon as you said that, your face started burning up as a sharp burning numbing sensation hit your tongue making you gasp out. You immediately shot out of your seat as the sensation took over your tongue, making tears start to well up in your eyes. Chris was out of his seat, eyeing you, his face filled with shock.

“Red?! Are you alright?”

You wanted to scream at him, saying that of course you weren’t alright but sarcasm was definitely not the right approach while you were midway dying from the burning sensation.

“Water!” You managed to choke out, urgently gesturing to the water jar sitting on the family table. Chris immediately grabbed a glass, pouring like his life dependent on it, turning around to pass it to you. You grabbed it out of his hand and inhaled the water, feeling the burning sensation start to subside with each gulp you took.

Chris had given you a few more glasses before the spice fully subsided as you collapsed back on the couch, your eyes slightly rimmed with tears and slightly red. You watched your parents nervously glance at each other as Chris passed you a tissue paper to wipe the stray tears from your eyes.

Your tongue felt numb from the spice that had overtaken all your senses as a sourish aftertaste soon followed making you smack your lips as your face scrunched up slightly in disgust of the aftertaste. Swirling more water in your mouth in hopes to get rid of the taste, you turned to your parents.

“What was that?” you croaked out to them as they were shifting slightly uncomfortably from where they’re standing.

Your mum cleared her throat. “Well, sweetheart,” she started, as you watched her brain slowly piece the words together, “it seems like you have a taste soul mark.”

You froze, your hand stopping from dabbing at your eyes, looking between your parents for confirmation as to whether either of them were joking. When all you were met with was seriousness, you felt a heavy sigh flow up from your throat as you frowned.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me–”

“LANGUAGE!”

THE RED OF RED VELVET OF 2016

Jun felt himself collapse on the floor as soon as the video stopped recording. Catching his breath, he jumped slightly, hearing a soft 'thud' beside him before chuckling to himself at the view of his starfished team leader.

Minghao walked over to the two and sits down opposite Jun, an unamused expression on his face as he shakes his head at Soonyoung's antics.

"One of these days," Minghao muttered out, "You're going to hurt yourself really bad by collapsing like that." Soonyoung, who was still starfished on the floor, lets out a grunt in acknowledgment at Minghao's words but makes no further comment.

Chan who was the only one left standing after the intense practice, ran a hand through his hair as he kept slowly rehearsing the moves, slowly correcting himself, little by little. Jun watched in adoration, as their maknae continued to nail the choreography with ease.

Being in the performance unit was definitely something he was meant for but it didn't make the extra dance practices or intense choreography easier to get the hang off. Sometimes he was envious of the other two units, the hiphop unit just needed to look like they were having fun on stage and the vocal unit just needed to look ethereal. Them, on the other hand, needed their choreography to look flawless which meant extra practices and extra dances to remember.

Chan continued to hum the beat of 'Highlight' before walking over to his three hyungs, plopping down in between Jun and Minghao. "I think we're almost ready for the music video recording." Chan chirped up making Jun smile, despite still catching his breath. He was always envious at how much energy their maknae had, even after all those extra steps, Chan looked like he wasn't even panting.

Soonyoung sat up slowly. "Yeah and then tomorrow we need to figure out how to do the 13 member version for the concerts."

Minghao lets out a low groan. "You couldn't wait to drop that news tomorrow or something?" Minghao chastises lightly. "Couldn't just let us have the peace for the night?"

Soonyoung clicks his tongue. "As performance leader," he gives Minghao a cheeky grin, "I cannot."

Minghao rolls his eyes at the older boys antics. "Can't believe you're older than me." He muttered. Soonyoung lets out a scoff, about to retort when Minghao notices Soonyoung's eyes sparkle a little before changing, the dark brown slowly turning to a maroon red.

"Your eyes changed colour again." Minghao nonchalantly points out, gesturing towards his eyes making Soonyoung's eyes widen, any remarks dying, as he whips out his phone to document the change.

"Are you any closer to figuring out what it means?" Chan asked Soonyoung, who was still typing ferociously onto his phone. Soonyoung absentmindedly shook his head.

"No," He muttered out, still engrossed as he scrolled through his notes. "It's driving me insane! Like I can't believe I have a soulmate and I can't even communicate with them like Minghao can, all I have is the darned colour changes. Its almost as if the universe just doesn't want me to find—"

Minghao slaps the back of Soonyoung's head before he has the chance to continue making the older boy yelp in pain. Soonyoung shoots glares at Minghao, "What the hell was that for—"

Minghao raises a finger, silencing the boy before gesturing to Jun who was sitting there, quietly with his legs crossed. Soonyoung's eyes widen in understanding, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Sorry Jun." he mutters out making Jun glance up and shake his head slowly, a weak smile on his face.

"It's alright." Jun said softly, shrugging a little, "I'm used to it."

Even after two years, Jun was still the only one unsure if he had a soulmate or not, everyone else had gotten something on their 18th birthday except Chan whose birthday hasn't passed yet and was just a few months away. With every new soul mark that the group celebrated, Jun's hopes dimmed more and more.

After being told to not give up two years ago, Jun had done everything in his power to figure out what soul mark he had. He went onto his ipad in between practice sessions, just to read up on published articles of late blooming soul marks. He picked up some books in the library about the different types of soul marks that have been documented so far, each more unique than the last. Hell, he even tried to force the soul mark to happen by pinching himself after seeing Seungcheol's soul mark or even doodling on himself after seeing Seungkwan's but drew blanks everytime.

Maybe he was really unlucky and he really was going to be the only one without a soulmate.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the three younger boys share a glance, a silent conversation between them before shooting to their feet, shocking him.

"I think we're done with practice today." Soonyoung states, stretching a little before holding out a hand for Jun to grab. Jun stares at the hand, side glancing to the two other younger boys before looking at Soonyoung, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't we have another hour of practice today?"

It was true, the staff had booked the the practice room for eight hours today and left them around two hours ago, trusting that they would practice till the time was up. Soonyoung was normally the one in charge of the timings, being the performance leader and never let the group end earlier for any circumstance even with Chan's constant whines of wanting to end.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "Well," he clicked his tongue, "I was being nice and offering but if you're that concerned," his eyes twinkled with a mischievous sparkle, "You can stay and practice by yourself."

Soonyoung starts to slowly pull his hand back, making Jun's eyes widen, grabbing onto it and pulling himself up. "No thanks." Jun chirped out making Soonyoung roll his eyes, a small smirk making it's way onto his face.

"C'mon." Soonyoung said, putting an arm around Jun's shoulder before glancing at his other two members, a smile on his face. "Let's go to get some food."

The four of them walked out of the practice room, up the stairs and onto the street which was buzzing with ambient noises. They talked about everything under the sun, random little tidbits and inside jokes filled the moments until they stopped at a familiar neon signage.

Jun blinked, not even realizing they had ended up outside his favourite Chinese restaurant. His eyebrows furrow before looking towards the other three boys, one eyebrow raising in question. "I thought you guys wanted to try the new Korean jeon place that was having that one for one deal?"

Soonyoung simply shrugged. "We changed our mind." Jun stared at him in disbelief, clearly not believing his answer but was pushed through the doors of the restaurant by the tiger boy before he could press even further.

"Good evening— Oh! It's you four!" The owner of the restaurant greets them, with a warm smile on her face as the four boys bowed, mirroring her expression. "Where are the other noisy nine that are normally with you all?" She teased, as the boys took their seats at one of the tables near the window of the store.

"Are the four of us not enough aunty?" Soonyoung whines out, making the old lady laugh as Minghao and Chan roll their eyes at their older hyung while Jun just shakes his head, a little embarrassed at their leader's antics. She pat Soonyoung's head. "Enough, enough," She says, soothing the boy. "It's just livelier when all thirteen of you are around."

Mrs Yang, as she told the boys to call her, was a lady in her sixties who had opened this restaurant after she moved from China twenty-odd years ago. Mrs Yang had opened the restaurant with her husband after they had been unable to find jobs in the corporate world and opted for their restaurants to be a 24/7 shop for those who just needed the comfort of a hot bowl of food.

The boys has stumbled across the restaurant before their debut, looking for food at the weird hours of the morning. She had welcomed them with open arms and for Jun, this place was like home far away from home.

Jun enjoyed the food so much that he found himself coming back to the restaurant whenever he felt down or just needed a hot meal that wasn't out of his budget. When Mrs Yang had learned about their debut, she purposely made a special menu for them that cost less than what other patrons paid.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan tried to argue with her about it but she was stubborn to say the least as she threatened them with the idea of lowering the prices for the thirteen of them even more.

She rounded the table to Jun and Minghao's side. "How are my two favourite boys?" She asked, in their native tongue making the two look at each other, a knowing smile on their faces.

"We're good." Minghao replied in Chinese before gesturing towards Jun, "Jun here really wanted to eat your food today."

Mrs Yang looks right at Jun, meeting his gaze before analyzing him.

"Thinking about her?"

Jun gave her a weak smile before looking back at the menu, analyzing it as if he didn't already know what he wanted. The night of his eighteenth Birthday, Jun sneaked out of the shared dormitories, needing to clear his head from the day. Having had practice the whole day, Jun didn't really have time to dwell on the fact of his soulmate and threw himself into the practice, making sure his moves were perfect and didn't really rest the whole day.

The other boys were worried, for sure. He saw the small glances that they gave each other when he was the first back on his feet after the breaks, they saw how he sweat a little harder than the rest of them and how he was unusually quiet, not a single mischievous comment coming out from his mouth.

Minghao and Seungkwan didn't leave his side for majority of the day and when Minghao had appeared in their shared room in his sleepwear with Chan no where to be seen, he knew that the members had a small meeting about him.

That's how he found himself back at the restaurant, drinking a hearty bowl of beef noodle soup, sitting opposite Mrs Yang. The restaurant was always quiet in the dead of the night. Mr Yang working hard to prepare the next set of ingredients needed for the wave of 5am customers who typically worked the night shift while Mrs Yang minced chili for their special chili oil, cut spring onions for garnish or plucked the heads off of bean sprouts.

Tonight she was doing the latter, slowly making her way through mountain in the left while she disposed the headless ones on her right, the heads throwing them into the plastic bag beside her.

She hummed along to an old Chinese song that flowed through the speakers of the restaurant that Jun recognized. It was one of his grandmother's favourite songs that used to play in the house when he was younger. It was at times like this that he missed his home in China and the food only amplified it more. He swallowed his emotions as he downed the last bit of his noodles, placing the bowl on the table with a soft 'thud' alerting Mrs Yang.

She gave him an easy smile, peering into the bowl, "Wahh," She said, the smile on her face growing bigger, "I guess we don't need to run the bowl through the dishwasher with how clean your bowl is."

Jun let out a weak laugh at the joke, sparing her a glance before going back to stare outside the window as he watched one or two cars whizz by.

Mrs Yang's eyes soften watching the forlorn boy who looked like he was close to breaking. She looked towards the kitchen where Mr Yang was standing, glancing between the two of them with a curious look twinkling in his eyes before gesturing towards her making her nod.

Jun was brought out of his thoughts when Mr Yang placed a small serving of a dessert that Jun wasn't expecting to see was placed in-front of him. His eyes widened, before looking between the older couple, his jaw dropping, "Nian Gao?" Jun sputtered out, making the older couple's eyes twinkle with delight.

"Happy birthday my dear boy." Mrs Yang said softly as Mr Yang placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Didn't think we would forget your birthday did you?" Mr Yang asked, his eyebrow raising, "We're old but not that old." Jun immediately shook his head, panicking slightly making Mr Yang let out a hearty laugh as Mrs Yang tsked at her husband, hitting his hand lightly.

"Don't disturb the poor boy like this on his birthday." She chastised her husband but there was no malice in her tone making Mr Yang laugh harder. Jun stared at the couple, longing in his veins, smiling a little sadly at the sight before looking down at the sticky cake in front of him.

The couple shared another glance at Jun's silence before Mrs Yang reached over the table and grabbed his hand that was resting there. "Want to talk about it?" She asked softly.

Jun swallowed. "I don't think I have a soulmate." He lowly admitted, his heart clenching slightly. The older couple were quiet for a beat at the confession before Mrs Yang's eyes hardened slightly on the boy. "That's nonsense."

Jun blinked at her stern words, "Everyone has a soulmate boy." She said, sternly locking eyes with Jun, "The minute you stop believing in that is when your soul doesn't long for them anymore or it feels complete without them next to you."

She raised an eyebrow at the young boy, "Do you truly feel like that?"

The question knocks the wind out of Jun's lung as he finds himself staring at her, his mouth open and closing like a fish before he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He really thought about it, her words striking him hard.

"I don't," He manages to answer making Mrs Yang nod her head. "Then she's still out there, longing for you as well."

It's crazy how those few simple words made Jun's doubts all disappear but she was right. If he didn't have a soulmate, he wouldn't feel this upset about not having something he didn't have in the first place. He wouldn't feel like something is missing from his life.

Mrs Yang gave Jun's hand a small squeeze. "Blow your candle already my dear boy." She said, pulling her hand back, "Make a good wish."

Jun smiled at the older couple who stared at him, their eyes filled with adoration and pride before he made a wish. He wished upon every single star in the sky that he would find her.

That's how they ended up here, the Yangs' had been helping Jun out by giving him hope and also checking with all their soulmate doctors that they knew. They always had something new to give Jun but with the search getting harder and harder each day, they were coming up short during his last recent visits.

"I always am." He answered, a reply to Mrs Yang's question, "I don't think she ever leaves my mind."

Mrs Yang gives the boy a sympathetic smile, reaching down and giving his hand a squeeze, "Good, as long as you don't give up on her." She says, her words a little fierce before turning to the younger Chinese boy.

"And you?" Mrs Yang asked. "Has she communicated with you?"

Minghao gave her a small smile. "We're trying," He mutters back softly, tugging at his sleeves to show the dark words of his soulmates thoughts on his arm, "Hard with the time difference and the language barrier but Shua hyung and Vernon have been helping me."

Mrs Yang gives the boy a toothy smile at that. "Good boys." She says, her smile widening at the thought of Joshua and Vernon. "I'll pack some extra food later for you to bring to them." The two boys give her an appreciative smile and thank her in Chinese before Mrs Yang clapped her hands.

"Right!" She said in Korean, getting the rest of the boys attentions, "I got a treat for you boys tonight." She gave them a wink with a promise to be right back before disappearing behind into the kitchen where she talked in fast Cantonese with her husband.

The four boys glance at each other before laughing to themselves as the couple loudly talked to each other. Not even twenty minutes later, the table was filled with various different dishes that the older couple whipped up making the four boys salivate.

"Dig in!" Mrs Yang said, clapping her hands as the boys eagerly began to dig in. "Woah!" Soonyoung gasped out after taking a spoonful of soup, "This is so good." Mrs Yang nods, her smile filled with pride, "It's Mala Tang," She said proudly, "Mr Yang and I thought it would be good for us to add it to the menu since Minghao and Jun mentioned liking it."

Jun took a sip of the soup and let out a sigh of contentment. "Really tastes like home Mrs Yang."

"I'm glad." She says, giving him a huge smile and patting his head gently.

They share stories with Mrs Yang about their recent practice and their upcoming concerts, Soonyoung sometimes getting out of his seat to dance the dance for her making Minghao shake his head at his antics as Jun and Chan laughed at their leader.

She clapped her hands as Soonyoung finished his one man show of 'Highlight'. "Bravo!" She cheered as Soonyoung took an exaggerated bow making Chan laugh as Minghao sighed and Jun smiled in between bites.

He quietly listened to Soonyoung animatedly tell Mrs Yang about his ideas for the thirteen member version of the song, placing more chili oil in his mala tang spoon as the clock struck 10pm. He took a sip of the soup, loving the spice and numbness on his tongue before it totally dulled in record speed, replaced by the strong taste of water.

Jun jumped in surprise, confusion flooding his features as he stared at the spoon as if it had offended him, which it did. "What in the world?" Jun wondered aloud before placing more chili oil into the soup before taking another spoonful of the soup and put it into his mouth.

Minghao who heard his murmurs, glanced at him, his eyebrow raised. Jun felt the numbness and the spice hit his tongue again before it was once again doused with taste of water.

"Not spicy enough for you?" Minghao asks teasingly as Jun frowned at the bowl getting the attention of the other three people at the table.

"No," Jun started, confusion still etched into his features, "I keep tasting water for some reason after drinking the soup."

Minghao's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?" He asked. Jun shrugged, "The mala taste of numbness and spice is there for like a second but then it gets overwhelmed by a really strong water taste." Jun said, taking another sip of the soup. He scrunches his nose in confusion as he tasted more water, the more he clicked his tongue.

Soonyoung at the other end of the table made a face before his eyes widened in realization as he turned to Mrs Yang who smiled as the gears turned in her head at Jun's words.

"Look's like your soulmate has finally found you." Mrs Yang said, making Jun tilt his head in confusion before it hit him. Chan and Minghao let out gasps as it hit them as well. Jun felt his heart thunder in his ribcage as his eyes widened.

Soonyoung rushed out of his seat, rounded the table and hugged the boy, squeezing him tightly as Minghao reached over to grab Jun's hand, "I told you so." Minghao said, in their native tongue, squeezing the boys hand.

Jun felt tears swarm his vision as his taste buds came to life, tasting the sweet taste of cream cheese frosting and chocolate cake on his tongue.

Red Velvet Cake.

He had finally found you.

10 YEARS LATER

"Fuck." You curse under your breath, running through the city in your heels was surely not the way you wanted to start your morning. It wasn't like you meant to sleep through all three of your alarms, you had stayed up to the early hours of the morning, working on your newest article for the magazine.

After you had graduated from high school, your old manager during your internship had called and offered you a position with the magazine after loving your work so much. Hence, you were known as the culinary and food expert at the Gourmet Magazine.

"Hey Mina," You greet as you brisk walked through the company glass doors. Mina, the receptionist looks up from her computer before giving you a bright smile, greeting you with your name as you gave her your card to scan you in.

"Long night?" She asks, glancing at the time on her computer making you give her a weak smile as you shrug, "You know how it is when we're wrapping up articles." You answered tiredly, making her nod her head sympathetically.

Mina had been the receptionist at the company since you started working full-time here. She was always around and she somehow always had the brightest smile on her face. She was also one of your closer friends in the company, always having an extra coffee for you whenever you were working late and always brought you donuts or other forms or sweet treats. She was quite literally your life saver.

"I hope the article goes well," She says softly, passing you back your card as you give her a warm smile, thanking her before she open the gantries for you. Your heels click on the marble floor as you press the button for the elevator, taking it up to the fifth floor.

You briskly walked in, dumping your stuff on top of the table of your cubicle before sinking into your chair, letting out a sigh of relief as you check the clock. Five minutes to spare, you roll your shoulders, finally catching your breath before a head peaked over your cubicle divider.

"There you are," Nari teased making you roll your eyes, a smile on your face as you came face to face with your cubicle sharer. "Was wondering if you were going to make it for the special meeting today or not."

You huff out a scoff, "And risk getting my ass handed to me by Minho?" You mutter back, shaking your head, "He would kill me if I missed the meeting."

Nari rolled her eyes at that, "As if." She scoffed, "You're literally his favourite journalist in the field. I think he would rather choke on his own guts before chewing yours out." You scrunched your nose at the image, "Gross." You said making Nari laugh.

Nari had joined the same time as you as a fellow intern for the food magazine. The two of you had solid portfolios and because management couldn't choose, they decided to offer both of you the spots. You and Nari became friends pretty quickly even though she was a year older than you were and the two of you chatted about everything under the sun. After the internship was over and the two of you finished high school, you were both on boarded together and have been working as cubicle besties since then.

Your phone buzzed making you glance at it before fishing through your bag for your laptop and the hard copy of your article and column for the week. "C'mon, you menace." You called to Nari, "Let's go see what Park wants before he hands us something bad for being late."

Nari appears beside you in record speed with her own laptop and hard copies in her hand, "He loves us too much to actually do that." She says, a mischievous grin on her face making you roll your eyes. "Well, let's not actually give him a reason then."

The two of you continue to chat as you made your way into the meeting room, where your magazine manager, Park Minho already stood. Beside him, sat his personal assistant, Lina who had a frown on her face as she was typing up a storm on her laptop in front of her, her fingers flying across the keyboard at record speed.

As you and Nari pushed open the glass door, Minho looked up before grinning at the sight of you two, "There are my two favourite food journalists!" He announced, doing an exaggerated arm opening movement making both you and Nari roll your eyes at his antics.

"Don't let Terry hear you say that," Nari teased, as she took a seat at his other side. You flashed Lina a grin who flashes you one back, tiredness etched into it before she went back to typing on her computer.

"Well, if Terry's articles and food columns actually hit 1500 views over the weekend," Minho began, eyeing the two of you with an easy grin on his face, "He shall get that spot then."

Your eyes widened as you looked at Nari who had a similar look on her face before looking back at your manager, "We hit 1.5k views?" You asked in disbelief making Minho nod as he flashed you both grins of pride, "Yep! Just over the weekend!"

You and Nari high-five each other, the smiles on your faces not dimming, "Was this what this meeting is for?" Nari asked, her eyes still sparkling making Minho shake his head, "Firstly," He pointed towards the papers on yours and Nari's computers, "I need to collect your columns and articles for this week."

The two of you share a look before passing them to him, he flipped through them briefly before passing them to Lina who tucks them into her file beside her. "Secondly," He starts before gesturing towards the projector screen, "The higher ups have been super impressed with the work that you both have been putting in and they recently wanted to offer you an assignment that is specially catered to the two of you."

You and Nari glanced at each other before looking back at the screen as Minho changed it to the next slide. Upon reading the words etched onto the slide, you felt your blood run cold.

"Food for the Soul: A Soulmate Assignment?" Nari asked, her tone ecstatic as you just stared at it with your mouth open. Minho nodded his head eagerly, seeming not to notice both your expressions as he continued, "Since both of you have a soul mark related to food cravings or taste, the higher ups thought that they wanted to create a series where you look for your soulmates through the foods and see if you can find them."

He flips to the next slide, "Of course, the trip is also fully-paid, you just need to inform Lina and I of the location you think your soulmate is in and we will get you the accommodations as well as give you money for you to spend to write the series."

Minho finally turns to you and Nari who have different expressions etched onto your faces as you just stared blankly at the projection screens, "Of course, we have to work out a timeline, what your series will actually entail but this is the basics of the assignment." Minho finishes, with a satisfied grin on his face as he takes a seat back into the rolling chair of the meeting room.

"Any questions?" He asks making Nari shake her head with a huge smile on her face before he turned to look at you who still stared at the board, a million thoughts running through your head. You felt faint.

After the incident of your eighteenth birthday, you held a huge dislike for your soulmate and his taste buds. You were aware that you and your soulmate definitely didn't live in the same country with the amount of times you would wake up with the taste of Americano on your taste buds before you even had your first cup of coffee and the amount of times you would eat your late dinner with the taste of toothpaste on your tongue.

At the start of your journalism journey, it was difficult to say the least. For every single assignment, you had to work around the times when your soul mate was having his meals so as to not have it clash with the food that you were writing your reviews for.

You had learned that the hard way when you were tasting the cakes of the newest rising bakery in town, only to almost spit out the delicious creamy cakes when you taste the sour and spicy taste of some fish dish that your soul mate was having. Safe to say, you worked your absolute hardest to give the bakery the best review it could ever get and business was still booming to this day.

You had tried to make a schedule for when your soul mate eats his meals and he was consistent for a while but within a month or so, that schedule will change sporadically throughout the month leaving you to just shred the schedule and go "fuck it", to try to find other workarounds. Which of course, there weren't.

This lead to your certain distaste for him and his taste buds as he never really had anything sweet and opted for every single spicy or sour food he could find his hands on. However, as much as you didn't like him or the idea of him, he was… sweet sometimes.

He must've gotten a schedule down for you, because unlike his outrageously sporadic schedule, you kept your meal times to a certain range in the day and it only strayed sometimes when you were in the middle of assignments or on work trips.

Because for the week during your periods, he ate milder stuff and kept to a proper schedule like it was clockwork. More sweet stuff than spicy or sour and sometimes he would sneak a chocolate during the middle of your day which made you smile as you taste the creaminess on your tongue.

You would be nice as well and eat something spicy during the week after, during one of your meals as a quiet 'thank you' to which he always replied with either another sweet chocolate or something sweeter. Still, that didn't mean you were okay with having a soul mate, he was normally a blip in your imagination until your tongue tastes something unfamiliar which makes you frown and curse him out even more.

Now you were expected to make a series to force yourself to find him? The biggest assignment of your career where you get to travel for 3 to 4 months and it was all to find someone that you didn't want in the first place.

You gnawed on your bottom lip before feeling Nari nudge you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You eyed her before realizing that all three of the people in the room were staring at you. You cleared your throat before straightening up, flashing Minho a weak smile.

"Sorry, spaced out there for a moment." you say, looking between him and Lina, "What did I miss?"

Minho gives you a curious look before clearing his throat as he gestures back to the presentation, "Well, I was just saying that you and Nari have a week, you can brainstorm with each other or separately and decide what your game plan is and where you think your soulmate is."

He peers at his watch before tapping it with his fingers, "Right, Lina and I need to run for a meeting with the Chief." He said, standing before pushing his chair and shooting the two of you a bright white smile, buttoning his suit jacket. "If you two have any questions, just shoot them into my inbox!" He says cheerily as Lina stood by his side, her signature frown still on her face as she gripped her laptop and files like they were her lifeline, which they probably were.

With that, he gives the two of you a wave before stepping out of the room. Nari turns to you as soon, her excitement radiating off of her. "I can't believe this!" She all but squeals as she grips your hands in hers, her eyes twinkling.

"A paid assignment to go find our soulmate!" She said, her tone dreamy as her eyes glazed over a little, "It's almost like a dream come through!"

You manage to give her a weak smile. "Yeah." You mutter out, your eyes moving downwards to stare at the scratch marks on the wooden table as the faint taste of kimchi fills your tastebuds.

"A dream come true, alright…"

You stare at blinking cursor on your screen, the blank document reflecting the opposite of every single thought in your brain before you groan out in frustration. You push your laptop off of your lap and onto your bed as you sink further into the pillows.

It had been almost a week since you had your meeting with Minho and you were nowhere close to drafting up that working plan for him about finding your soulmate. You felt like a zombie the past few days, sure you were present in the meetings, there for your discussion sessions with Nari but it felt as if you were on autopilot for all of them.

You half-heatedly listened to Nari as she explained to you her idea. Nari, like you, had a food related soul mark but for her, it was related to what her soul mate was craving at different times. They didn't taste each others food, but whatever her soul mate was craving, Nari found herself craving the same thing. It didn't matter who craved it first, the two of them ended up having the same meals anyway.

If you had gotten that soulmark instead, you felt that it wouldn't make a difference because he would've craved an immense amount of spicy and sour food and you weren't sure that your tastebuds could handle more than one meal of spice or sour foods a day. It just wasn't in your system to have it.

As she animatedly told you her plan, how she thought that her soulmate was situated in Italy, he always had a certain craving for different Italian foods such as pizzas and pastas and how he seemed to also crave a certain Italian wine.

You envied her a little bit, she had a plan and she wanted to meet the man that was part of her soul. You on the other hand, felt a pit in your stomach whenever you felt someone ask you about your soulmate.

You had been on a few dates here and there, with people who hadn't found their soulmate yet either but nothing ever truly stuck. You were committed to your work and you definitely didn't stand in the other persons way when the date eventually went eastward when they found their respective one.

"Don't worry," They used to assure you as they paid for your drink. "I'm sure he's out there looking for you as well."

You weren't sure about that. As much as you haven't been trying to find your mysterious man, he also wasn't making it easy to pinpoint where he was on the map. Your parents had given you a journal for your birthday, something cheesy with stars on it and titled it 'Your Soulmate Journal' for you to document everything related to your soulmate for you to find them. They had also given one to your brother for him to document the certain feelings he felt when he touched the mark or whether it glowed brighter and in which direction.

You used it to document the food he ate instead. Sometimes if you wanted to wing the assignments, you used the food journal of his tastes to get ahead, to get the variety that you normally wouldn't eat yourself. It worked for a while but at the end of the day, you felt guilty for your soulmate. You didn't want anything to do with him but you were using him to get ahead, so you stopped and just documented what he ate, trying to find a pattern, just to satisfy your parents every time you saw them for Sunday dinners, just to say you were trying.

You glance at the journal on your desk and sighed, getting up to take it before flipping through it.

18/9/2017 Loser boy ate the spicy numbing food again. Been talking to Minho and Nari about what the foods were to try and get more info. Admittedly, maybe he has taken the hint from the amount of water I keep dousing my tongue in after he eats the food, but he's been getting a milder one. Either that or I'm getting better at eating his god-awful spicy food.

25/12/2018 Found out what the hell that spicy food is. Nari came into work and brought an extra portion of lunch for me today. It smelled good but as soon as I tasted it, it felt like my tastebuds were tasting him. She told me its something called Mala tang, something she had discovered in the city and it was to die for. I agree with her on that considering I nearly died from it during my birthday but I didn't mention that to her. I thanked her as my stomach did flip flops as I ate quietly. The food wasn't bad but considering my low spice tolerance, I definitely can't eat this everyday. My question to my loser boy, why the hell do you?

You grimace as you recalled the last memory before flipping a few more pages.

10/6/2019 Is today his birthday? It could be a coincidence but he had cake just now. Not that he hasn't had cake before. But it's always on this specific day. I flipped through the last three years of entries and I think it is. He had three different kinds today… Chocolate, Vanilla and Strawberry, all filled with cream. It felt like he ate a lot more sweet stuff today than normal. Maybe he was trying to communicate with me?

18/10/2021 I fucking hate him. I thought I had his schedule down, but I somehow woke up at 4am in the goddamn morning, because he decided to eat Mala Tang again. He put extra spice this time though. Is he doing it on purpose? I would normally only taste mint now but I'm tasting so much food, its annoying. I've tasted Mala Tang, some kind of sweet and sour pork and some kind of black pepper beef. I fucking hate him. I hate that he made me hungry at 4am in the morning.

29/6/2022 God, hes been eating at weird timings again. The last time it was like this, it lasted for a few months where I'd wake up with different food tastes in my mouth. What does he work as? A food taster? Some moonlighter? Why does his food schedule go haywire every few months? The only conclusion I can come up with is that he travels a lot. There's no other explanation. Unless he hates me which I can't blame him because I hate his tastebuds.

You flipped through it more until you came to the most recent one which was a tally.

Tallied results: Korean food - 6890 times Chinese food - 3568 times

You internally groan, just looking at the first two. You weren't stupid. He was definitely in Korea from the amount of times he had eaten Korean food over the last few years that you had documented. But he seemed to take a liking to Chinese food, considering that he eats Mala at least twice a week from your count.

You glance towards the framed polaroid on your desk and frown a little more. The picture of you and your older brother Chris, stares back at you making you sigh. You had an inkling for years that your soulmate was in Korea, which was why you never really traveled there with a fear of running into him on the street, breaking this little bubble that you were keen to keep.

You knew that Chris was disappointed. Your parents traveled there to visit him as least once every quarter with your siblings but you never went. It started with small excuses at first, like you can't take leave from work, you needed to finish the article, you were traveling for a work trip, et cetera.

Chris also hummed in understanding but you could see the look in his eyes that he knew you were lying to him and that you were keeping something from him. He just didn't press you enough to figure out what you were hiding from him.

You stared at the polaroid for a beat longer before sighing and pulling out your phone. Checking the time and doing the mental math, you went into facetime and hovered over the call button on his contact. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth before deciding 'fuck it' and hitting the button.

His ringtone rang once. Twice. Thrice.

As you started to second guess yourself and hovered over the disconnect button, the ringing stopped and changed to 'connecting'.

Your eyes widened but before you could calm your nerves, Chris appeared on your screen with makeup on with a concerned expression on his face.

"Hi-" You managed to say before Chris interrupted you.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, urgently making you stop and frown, "What—"

"Is something the matter?" He asked again, before rattling even more. "Did something happen with mum and dad? Wait- no then you would've called an ambulance first. Is it Hannah? Or Lucas?"

"Chris—"

His eyes widened, "Oh my god! Did you just get fired?? Is that why you look so worried?? Do you need money??"

"Chris." You called, getting a little more frustrated but he payed you no mind as he continues on rambling.

"Well, we didn't plan for this but we can go to Plan Contingency B! Where you move to Korea with me and then we can figure out the rest of the stuff. Let me call my manager and then we can have you situated her—"

"Christopher Chahn Bahng!" You exclaimed, making him pause at the mention of his full government name, looking at you as his face pales even more.

"Oh god! Is it worst than that?" You wanted to slam your head into the wall at your brothers expression.

Before he could launch into another spiral of rants, you spit out, "Chris, I need to talk to you about my soulmate."

At that, he freezes, his jaw dropping open.

You never talk about your soulmate willingly since your eighteenth birthday. Your parents or siblings always had to pull it out of you whenever you met up with them for dinners or on calls. You never brought it up first, considering it to just be a small blip in your life, much to your parent's disdain.

You stayed silent, letting the initial shock sink in as well as letting his brain process.

"Chris?" You call out softly after counting to hundred in your head, "Can I continue?"

Chris closes his mouth, taking a swallow before nodding, "Er, yeah." He clears his throat as he sat up straighter, "Sorry, I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither did I when you started your full rant about contingency plans." You quipped back making a small flush appear on his cheeks, "When you call me in the middle of the night after my concert —which you normally never do, a brother can worry."

Your eyes widen at that, "Oh shit!" You mutter out. He shakes his head and holds up his free hand before you could even begin to apologize, "You can apologize by telling me what's got you awake at 1am in the morning when you have work tomorrow."

You took a deep breath before you told him about everything, the assignment, how you thought your soulmate was in Korea and how conflicted you were about everything. Chris just listened, never interrupting you as he shuffled around his hotel room, dressing down for the night after the concert. The only times he spoke was to ask a few questions here and there, just to clarify and piece the story together better.

"So," You breathe out, finally catching him up on everything, "What do you think?"

Chris was quiet for a moment, his makeup now fully removed as he sunk lower into his bed, "Is that why you haven't wanted to visit me the last few years?" He asks, softly. Your heart drops at the question before you give a small nod, "I knew the chances of me bumping into him were small but," You shook your head, "I just didn't know if I wanted to meet him yet." You hesitate a little before admitting, "Or if I was even ready to meet him."

Silence enveloped the room as the two of you digested everything that you had talked about before Chris sighs over the phone and runs a hand through his hair.

"I understand." He finally says, giving you a small smile and a shrug, "It was your anti-soulmate defense system talking," he says, a slight tease in his tone before it drops, "But this might be a good thing you know?" He says gently, "You were going to have to face him eventually and meeting him might give you a better piece of mind Red. You need to give him a chance."

You nod, rubbing your eyes, "I know," you mutter out, "I just didn't think it was going to happen so soon."

Chris nodded, empathetically, "I know Red," he whispers out, "But running away from him isn't going to work forever. I think this might be the universes way of telling you to face your fears."

You heave out a sigh before rolling over onto your back, your hand reaching out to grab your pillow before cuddling it, "I didn't think that my biggest assignment of my career was going to revolve around him Channie." You softly admit making him frown as he stared at you through the phone.

"I'm sorry Red."

You shake your head as you feign a brave smile, "It's okay." Your voice wavering slightly as you try to reassure him (and yourself). "I need to finish typing up my game plan."

Chris visibly hesitates and opens his mouth to say something but rethinks it and just nods.

You bid him goodnight and was about to hang up when he calls out to you.

"Red?"

You raise an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

He chews his bottom lip, "Would you like to stay with me when you come?" Your eyebrows furrow at the suggestion, "Is that even allowed?" You ask making him shrug, "I probably need to talk to my manager about it but Jeong-in probably won't mind if you bunk with me plus…" He trails off, hesitating slightly making you raise an eyebrow, "Plus?"

"It'll be nice to live in the same house again, that's all." Chris softly says making your heart clench slightly at the tone of his voice making you relent, "Alright." You relent, giving him a small smile. "Check with your manager and we can plan from there."

Saying that the next few weeks felt like a fever dream would be the understatement of the century.

If you weren't at home, you were at work pulling different all-nighters to wrap up the remaining projects, interviews and articles you were assigned to write before this assignment. If you weren't at work, you were at your parents house having family dinner where they would ask you countless amount of questions about your proposal which you always answered halfheartedly or with an awkward edge in your tone.

If you weren't at your parents house, you were at home, writing and rewriting your soulmate assignment proposal as if it was the last thing you will ever work on— which it might be if Minho kept asking you to rearrange or add more things to give your assignment a little more pizzaz.

As if it wasn't bad enough, the icing on the cake was that your soulmate's eating schedule had changed for the umpteenth time, which caused you to have zero appetite to eat upon tasting whatever spicy or sour poison your soulmate had chosen to have right before you woke up.

You know you shouldn't be blaming your soulmate who was none the wiser about the situation that you found yourself in but you couldn't help it. Not when suddenly, your whole life just revolved around him.

Your work, your family dinners, hell, even your sleep schedule dependent on him. So, by some act of pettiness (and sleep deprivation), you decided to fight back with an ample amount of sweet things whenever the first drop of spice or sourness hit your tastebuds.

You retaliated with that for a few days until it seemed that he picked up that you were angry with him which he answered by eating cleaner food, food that didn't linger in your mouth which made your heart clench slightly, feeling guilty that you had taken your angst and frustration out on him.

So when Nari's jaw drops open upon seeing what you were eating during a normal Tuesday lunch, a week before you fly off, you sort of feel the urge to crawl into a hole and rethink your lunch option.

"Are you eating Mala?" Nari asks, her eyes fixated on the instant noodles you were about to shove into your mouth. You stare at her, your mouth agape, the food about to enter as you peer down at your lunch option before looking back up at her and shrug, using the chopsticks to put the food into your mouth.

"Wanted to see what the hype was about." You state as nonchalantly as you could even though you could feel your cheeks burn, as if you were caught doing something forbidden. "Plus, he was nice during hell week for me."

Nari stares at you as if you had grown a second head, "Did your period come early?" She finally asks, making you choke on your food as you stare at her, absolutely flabbergasted by her comment.

"No—" You choke out, taking a few sips of water to calm yourself down before continuing, "You can't ask me that in the middle of work! What the hell Nari?"

"Well!" Nari sputters out dropping her lunch on the table as she takes her seat opposite you, "I have the right to question if you're acting strange!"

You roll your eyes at her dramatics, picking up one of the ingredients with your chopsticks, "You're crazy." You mutter out, eating the ingredient making her narrow her eyes at you. Knowing that she heard you, you return it with a teasing smile making her scoff at your antics.

"Are you ready for next week?" Nari asks, opening up her lunch, a stir-friend special from the Chinese place down the road. You swallow your food before nodding as you take a sip of your water, "Yeah, just wrapping up the article on 'Milan's Bistro' and the special column on my take of 'Charles Boyle's Pizza Ratings' for the Writer's Takes, which should be published this Friday if Minho gives me the green light." You say making Nari chuckle slightly at your column for the 'Writer's Take'.

"Did you start rating some pizza places out of twelve then?" She asks making you give her a mischievous smile, "Of course," You exaggerate, "What kind of connoisseur would I be if I didn't use his famous metric system as a fellow food enthusiast?"

Nari laughs at your words making you laugh along with her before the two of you converse about her columns and articles she has left.

"Did Minho finally agree with your proposal?" She asks you towards the end of your meal. You hummed out a 'yes' making her let out a sigh of relief, "I thought he would never accept it." She states, recycling her takeout container as you let out a tense exhale.

"I didn't think he would either." You mutter out, turning to the water cooler to refill your bottle. "Can't blame him though, this proposal was definitely the worst one I've written by far for all the assignments that I've done."

Nari frowns at your words, "Don't say that." She sternly says making you shrug, unapologetic, "It's fine Nari, really." You assure her as you plaster on a small smile, locking eyes with her concerned gaze, "My heart just isn't into this assignment as much as it should be and he knows that, which is why he was pushing me to give it my all."

"Still," She argues, her frown deepening making you shake your head, "It's something to not want to find your soulmate but being forced to find them for the sake of your job." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry that you have to go through that."

You felt guilt sink in a little at her words.

You had shared your experience with Nari around your fourth brainstorm session when she was concerned about why your document was still semi-blank. You had hesitated to share with her but after taking a glance at her concerned face, you told her everything.

Still, after everything that had been going on, you realized that you weren't as against meeting your soulmate as you thought you would be. How he was thoughtful when he shouldn't be. How he always knows when you were heading to bed by eating a little sweet treat before you brushed your teeth to give you just that little burst of serotonin. How he always knew when you were having a hard day by the amount of coffee that you drank and would pop a mint before you did because he noticed that you did that everytime you had finished your coffee, not liking the lingering taste in your mouth.

It almost felt like he was apologizing for all the times he knew you were pissed off at him because of his irregular eating schedule. However, you were still a woman of your word and having to dedicate your life to someone who was written for you in the stars, just didn't sit right with you.

So you just gave Nari a shrug. "It's alright." You mutter out, grabbing your water bottle before walking with her out of the break room. "Who knows," You start, a joking tone in your words as you try to break the tension, "Maybe he's right and I will believe in soulmates after this."

As soon as Chris whips the door open for you, you collapse into his open arms, not caring whether it came off as clingy as you breath in your brothers comforting scent.

He jumped at first but slowly relaxed into your arms as you feel him let out a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you. "Long flight?" Chris asks lowly making you nod into his chest.

"Forgot how long it takes to get to Seoul from Brisbane."

He chuckles at that as you pull away, making him step aside to let you step into his shared apartment. You walk in and sigh, feeling the days weight lift off your shoulders as your brother carries your luggage in, before shutting the door close with a soft thud.

You take in your surroundings noticing how homely the apartment felt despite not having a lot of memorabilia around the living room area.

"Nice place." You call out as Chris made his way back into the shared area, right after dropping off your luggage in his room.

He shrugs, almost nonchalantly before he walks into the kitchen. "We try," He says simply as he whips the fridge open. "Want something to eat?" He asks, looking straight at you making you nod.

He pulls some stuff out of the fridge as you slide into a chair at their kitchen island.

"Where's Jeong-in?" You ask, noticing that his door was open and his lights were off.

"He's at the recording studio tonight." Chris says, ripping a packet of ramyeon open. "He wanted to get a bit of recording done for the new album."

You let out a hum of acknowledgment before you unlock your phone, answering a few messages from your parents as well as Nari and Minho who asked if you had landed. You continue to scroll, opting to answer a few work emails that were not as pressing, leaving the pressing ones for tomorrow instead.

"Checking your new article statistics?" Chris asks as he places a bowl of freshly made raymeon in-front of you making your stomach growl. Your mouth waters slightly as you nod, taking the chopsticks from him after placing your phone facedown on the counter.

"The article has 859 views concurrently and counting." You chirp happily, taking a bite of the noodles and humming contentedly. Chris watches you with slight amusement on his face as he leans against the counter. "Wouldn't have expected anything less from you Red." He says, his voice full of pride making you give him a sweet smile before continuing to scarf down your food.

The two of you indulge in small talk as you finish your food, him talking a little about his new album and giving you a few sneak peeks.

Him asking how the flight was, while you complain about the amount of non-direct flights from Brisbane to Seoul.

"It's a little insane." You say, placing your chopsticks on the rim of the bowl before pushing it to the side. "You would think that there would be more direct flights."

He chuckles, picking up your dish to rinse it off before placing it into the dishwasher. "Now you know how I feel." He teases lightly, wiping his hands on the cloth next to the sink. "You can't tease me anymore for how dead I look after every flight when I come visit now."

You roll your eyes at his words. "Fine fine." You relent, slipping out of the chair as you grimace slightly, feeling icky from the amount of traveling you had done. "I really need a shower."

Chris nods. "Your towel is on the blow up mattress in the room." He starts as he gestures to your room for the next few months. "After you shower, we can discuss about your plans for the week and how to get there."

You give him a quick hum in acknowledgement before skipping towards his room to wash the airport smell off of you. Twenty minutes later, you hum one of his songs under your breath before drying your hair as Chris scrolls through the places you had listed for your soulmate assignment.

You shut the hair dryer off before collapsing on his bed as he continues to analyze your itinerary. "So," You begin, stretching a little, "How's the itinerary?"

Chris nods, giving you a smile. "It's good but that's a lot of places to get through this week." He gives you a small look. "Are you sure you're going to be able to get through all that food tomorrow?"

You let out a sigh, trying to collapse further into the pillows. "I'm only allowed to be here for three to four months Chris." You shake your head. "I just want to narrow the places first so that I will have an easier time with the article."

"But this looks like a food suicide mission Red." Chris lets out, pointing towards the places that was listed on your spreadsheet. "You wrote that you have to get through nine restaurants tomorrow and it's definitely not cheap."

"This coming from the ever loving leader of Stray Kids, a premier fourth-generation Kpop phenomenon." You mutter out making your brother scoff as he pushes the laptop off of his lap. "I'm serious Red, don't you want to space it out a little more or remove some of the items on your list at least?"

You shake your head. "Again, I can't do that Chris." You say, feeling a little more frustrated by the second, "The timeline is already unbelievably short. Not to mention I need to write an article that means something to my soulmate. Which means I need to find the guy, and go, 'Hey, I don't quite want a soulmate but for the sake of my job, I need you to spend the day with me so that you can tell me about your favourite food and then we can go our separate ways.'" You rant as your brother watches you with an unreadable look on his face.

"How am I meant to do all that in four months if I take my time?"

Chris watches you for a beat, analyzing you as you go through your spiral before sighing and pulling you into his embrace. "Sorry." He mutters out as he wraps you slightly tighter in his arms. "Forgot how much pressure you're under to do this."

You let yourself breath a little, feeling his words hit home as you relax into his embrace. "It's okay." You finally let yourself say, slightly muffled due to his clothes, "I'll figure it out."

"You always do." Chris mutters out as you nod into his chest. "Wanna watch a movie?" He asks softly making you nod.

"Breakfast Club?" You ask, pulling your head away from his chest as he frowns.

"Again?" He groans out, as you give him a small frown in return. "What's wrong with the breakfast club?" You whine out as he shakes his head.

"I swear we've watched that movie at least once whenever we see each other." Chris quips back. "Are you not sick of the movie?"

"It's a classic."

"Deadpools a classic, but you don't see me asking to watch it whenever you bring up movie night."

You snort. "As if! I've seen you watch that at least twice whenever you're back home with us." You wave your hand a little animatedly, "Plus how is Deadpool a classic? It's a superhero movie."

"Superhero movies can be considered a classic."

"It's not old enough to be considered a classic you buffoon, although you could be from how old you are."

"How dare you?! I'm only a year older than you."

"A year closer to death you mean."

"I'll show you death."

THE BEEF NOODLES OF FATE - Week 1 out of 16

When Chris suggested that you should have a driver with you today, you had refused and told him that you wanted to explore Seoul independently and away from the spotlight which might be hard if you went in a JYP issued car.

The two times you had come with your family to see your brother's concerts, you realized how many of them knew when you would be arriving due to the cars that were sent to pick you up from the hotel. It gave you the shock of your life, seeing the amount of people waiting for you outside your hotel, wanting to get a glimspe of your brother.

Due to the fact that you were working on an assignment that caused you more migraines than any other ones, you knew that you needed a quiet day.

Now, however, you were regretting not taking up his offer.

You had forgotten to charge your phone when you had arrived home yesterday and left the apartment with low battery, only realizing after you had gotten onto the train which had been a hard walk already.

You tried to minimize your use of your phone as much as you could but by the 7th location, your phone had inevitably died.

Which leads you to where you are now.

You let out a small groan as you continue to walk down the street, looking for any signs or indicators that could get you out of your predicament. Chris mentioned that he was going to be working late at JYP and wouldn't be home till the early hours of the morning.

You had asked the lady at the restaurant for directions but unfortunately, due to your minimal sense of direction, you had gotten lost somewhere.

Judging from the clock at the 7th place you went to, you would guess that it was roughly around 10pm. Meaning that if Chris were to save you, he would only be able to in three to four hours depending on what time he gets home and realizes that you aren't there.

You hope that it was the former rather than the latter.

"At least it can't get worst than this." You mutter out to yourself before feeling something prick the edge of your skin making you look up to see that it is starting to drizzle. You let out a huff as you felt the rain pelt against your hoodie, dampening it. "Just my luck." You sarcastically mumble to yourself before you sprint down the street.

It starts to rain heavier as you try to look for a restaurant or shop that's open this late at night before you spot one in the distance. The neon sign of the restaurant acting like a beacon as you run towards it, feeling the rain soak you a little more.

A bell chimes as you enter the shop, a gust of warm air hitting you making you shiver slightly as the glass door shuts with a soft clang behind you.

You huff out a sigh as you take in your appearance, seeing the rain had drenched you from top to bottom. You were glad that you had decided to wear darker colours today before you left Chris and Jeong-In's dormitory. The smell of delicious Chinese food fills your nose as you look around the restaurant, your eyes widening at how cozy the interior looks despite it looking slightly run down.

"Oh hello!" A voice chirps out beside you making you turn to see an elderly Chinese lady with a warm smile on her face. You give her a sheepish smile as you watch her take in your appearance as a frown overtakes the smile on her face.

"Goodness!" She yells out, looking at you with wide eyes. "You're drenched dear."

You feel a small flush rise to your cheeks, opening your mouth to speak but are interrupted by her dragging you deeper into the restaurant. She makes you sit at one of the tables before disappearing behind the counter and speaking some fast Mandarin— or was it Cantonese, to the person in the kitchen before returning with a set of fresh clothes and a towel.

Your eyes widen as you stand up, sticking your arms up to try to stop her when she shoots you a stern look. "Don't argue with me on this." She says with a hard look making you shudder before taking the clothes from her with a soft 'thank you'.

She waves her hand as if it wasn't a big deal before pointing towards the kitchen doors. "There's a small bathroom just through there and up the stairs." She says, her warm smile back on her face. "If you get lost, just call for Mr Yang."

You give her a curt nod before awkwardly walking towards the kitchen through the hanging curtain. You see an older man, sitting on the stool there who shoots you a warm smile and points you towards the way you need to go making you bow before sprinting towards the tiny bathroom.

You change and dry your hair in a couple of minutes, looking at the fresh set of clothes which appear to be a K-pop groups merch, noticing the logo as you inspected it before putting it on. They must be real big fans of Seventeen to be having a hoodie and sweatpants of the group.

You walk out of the kitchen to see Mrs Yang already seated at the table you were at, a bowl of steaming hot soup in front of her. She notices you and gives you a warm smile. "Sit." She simply says. "A hot bowl of soup would be good for you, to make sure that you don't fall sick."

You feel your cheeks heat up slightly in embarrassment as you awkwardly take the seat opposite her as she takes the clothes from your hands. "I'll put these in the dryer for you so that you can rewear them before you leave dear." She says and was off behind the kitchen curtain before you could even protest.

You stare at the delicious food before tentatively digging in. Through your experience with your soulmate, Chinese food was a big staple of what you tasted almost weekly so this food should give that familiar taste.

You blew on the soup before taking a sip making your eyes widen at how amazing it was, feeling yourself get almost hungrier from just that sip. You immediately dig into the food, feeling the amazing flavours hit your tongue as you began to scoop more noodles and beef slices into your spoon.

You think you finish the food in record time as Mrs Yang appears again, a proud satisfied smile on her face as she looks at the clean bowl.

"Wow!" She exclaims as you place the bowl down with a small thud. "You remind me of a boy I know, he really loves our beef noodle soup as well!"

You give her a warm smile, feeling the soup nourish and warm you up. "I can see why, it's really good." You say softly. "Please let me know how much it is later."

She shakes her head and gives you a small wave of her hand before she takes a seat opposite you. "There's no need." She says, her warm smile never fading. "We just wanted to warm you up because you were absolutely drenched by the rain. Plus, seeing the way you enjoyed eating our food is enough payment for us."

You blush a little at her words before you take in more of the restaurant, the soft accompaniment of the raindrops hitting the pavement and the soft melody of the old Mandarin song accompanying your little analysis.

Mrs Yang abruptly stands up, startling you slightly as you watch her waddle her way over to the front door. She flips the sign to 'close' making your eyes widen as you scramble to stand up. You pause when you hear her let out a really hearty laugh, turning to fix her with a face of confusion.

"Where are you running off to dear?" She asks, a teasing smile on her face as you feel your cheeks slightly warm at that. "Erm," You point towards the sign, "Aren't you closing?"

She laughs again, waving her arms as she gestures for you to sit. "The dryer hasn't finished it cycle yet." She points out. "Are you planning to leave without your clothes?"

Your eyes widen in realization, your jaw dropping slightly as your brain races for an excuse, an explanation, particularly anything at this point. However, before you could embarrass yourself even further in-front of the old lady, she speaks again.

"Plus, Mr Yang and I don't get many customers when it rains." She says softly, reaching you to push you gently back into your chair. "We used to get these four rowdy boys coming in whenever it rains but they're too busy with their music or whatever."

You smile a little at her nostalgic tone. "Do they live in the neighbourhood?" You ask making her smile larger, her eyes wrinkling with the smile crinkles as she nods. "Something like that."

You glance at the corner of the room where the digital clock was and deflate slightly. It was only 11:45pm, which meant that Chris would probably only be home in an hour or two before realizing that you aren't there and would only roughly pick you up in three hours.

"Why the face dear?" You hear Mrs Yang asking as you meet her gaze, a frown on her face. "Well…" You trail off slightly, contemplating how to put your predicament into words without embarrassing yourself even more as you glance towards your dead phone on the table.

Mrs Yang notices your glance and makes a sound of understanding. "Ah!" She exclaims making your gaze land on the older woman. "Do you need to charge your phone dear?" She asks making you hesitate slightly before nodding slowly.

She waddles over to you with her arm stretched making you tentatively put the phone into her wrinkly hands. She calls for her husband in Mandarin making the man peer his head out through the kitchen curtain with his head tilted.

She says a few words to him in Cantonese making him gives her a firm nod, an easy smile on his face before disappearing through the curtain again. In less than five minutes, he reappears with a tea pot and two tea cups that he places on your table. The smell of the tea makes you feel slightly warmer inside as you watch Mr Yang pluck the phone from his wife's hands and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before taking your phone to the cashier counter to charge it.

You smile a little to yourself at the fond interaction as Mrs Yang takes her seat opposite you again. Mrs Yang pulls the teacups in front of the two of you before pouring the tea slowly. She places one in-front of you making you thank her quietly as you take a sip, the warm liquid filling you up as you feel warmth spread throughout your chest.

The Mandarin song changes to a slower one that has Mrs Yang humming along to it, sipping the tea with absolute delight on her face as the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. You let your eyes flit across the room once more, seeing all the different types of memorabilia dotting the walls making a small smile appear on your face.

"I really love the interior of the place." You note out simply. "Feels very much like home."

Her grin widens even more at your words as she eyes the place that she and Mr Yang built up.

"When Mr Yang and I came here thirty years ago, we felt a little homesick while looking for a job." She says, her eyes slightly glazing over as she eyes a picture behind you of a younger version of the two of them, standing in-front of the restaurant on opening day.

"After we had given up, we decided to open this restaurant instead." Her expression morphs into a wistful as she retells her story. "So when we were constructing this place, we took inspiration from our old house back in Chengdu. A few of the pieces on the walls are some of the items we brought along with us."

She points to a beautiful cyan bamboo weaved hat that was hung near the entrance of the restaurant, that looks slightly vintage but had multiple beautiful roses on them. A bunch at the side was blue, the opposite side was red while there was one giant one painted in multiple shades of purple.

"That was the first craft that Mr Yang and I made together." She says, her smile wide as she recounts the memory. Your mouth drops open slightly as you stare at the work, slightly in awe. "It's really beautiful," You say, admiring the line work of the art a little more. "I really love the roses."

If possible, her smile widens even more at your words as she nods with a slight bit of pride on her features. "Mr Yang and I spent hours hand-painting them after our wedding. He wanted the two of us to work on something together that represents the two of us."

She pulls up her long sleeves. turning her arm closer to you for you to see. You lean in closer, squinting slightly before your eyes widen in realization as you stare at the rose tattoo etched onto her arm.

The rose was almost a splitting image of the ones painted on the bamboo craft, the only difference being that it was a singular rose and the rose was split into half, one half a crimson maroon whereas the other side was a vibrant blue. You let your eyes trail along the line work of the ink, noticing that the colours diverged seamlessly together almost as if it was intentional, leaving in its trail a beautiful shade of purple.

You meet Mrs Yang's gaze, a little more starstruck as she gives you a prideful smile.

"It's beautiful." You whisper out, taking one last glance at the tattoo before leaning back against your chair. Mrs Yang stares at the tattoo for another beat before rolling her sleeves down and looking back at the bamboo craft on the wall.

"It was one of the only things we brought along with us from our house in Chengdu." Mrs Yang says, her tone full of nostalgia. "We brought a lot of other stuff as well but," She shakes her head slowly, "It's one of the only things that represent the both of us as soulmates."

You quiet down at her words, your heart clenching slightly as you digest her words. She turns to you, her expression morphing into one of curiosity. "How about you my dear?" She asks softly, her eyes glinting a little. "Do you have a soulmate?"

You feel your heart rate pick up slightly at the question, unsure of how much you wanted to share with this lady that you just met. However, upon looking at the steaming cup of tea in front of you as well as the empty bowl beside it, you realize that a little truth never hurt anyone.

"I haven't met him yet." You say softly, after swallowing your nerves and wiping your sweaty palms against the borrowed sweatpants. Her features soften at your confession as she reaches out to tug your hand into hers, giving it a firm squeeze, shocking you slightly.

"I'm sure he's out there, yearning and longing for you as well my dear." She says softly.

Her words make your mouth go try and your heart thud faster against your chest making you give her a nervous laugh. "I don't know." You say, slightly awkward as you glance towards your joint hands. "I think we're a bit too different for each other to be each others halves."

You feel Mrs Yang stiffen slightly at your words making you glance up to meet her eyes, an unreadable expression on her face as she takes you in, her eyes scanning your facial features. You feel slightly uncomfortable at her calculating gaze but as soon as you want to mention it, her expression drops to something softer as she gives your hand a squeeze again.

"Soulmates aren't meant to be similar to you dear." She says softly. "They are meant to be the one that completes your soul, fill in the gaps so that the two of you feel complete when you are together. Independently, you both will survive without each other but being together," She pauses, glancing towards the bamboo craft hanging near the door making her smile, "makes everything feel as if it was meant to be, as if it was written in the stars."

You feel your breath hitch at her words as she stares softly at you, her wistful smile never wavering as you feel your heart beat slightly harder in your chest. She pauses, as if she was waiting for your response making you swallow hard as you open your mouth to try and sputter a response together.

Before you could, Mr Yang's footsteps interrupt you and his wife making the two of you turn towards the older man who has your phone in his hand. He reaches your table in two big strides, a small smile on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt." He says, glancing towards your joint hands making your cheeks heat up slightly as you gently pull your hand away from his wife's grasps. He clears his throat before sliding your phone across the table, speaking as you pick it up to turn it on.

"You were getting a call from someone named Chris a couple of minutes ago." He says, resting a hand on his wife's shoulder as your eyes widen before glancing towards the time on your device, noticing that only an hour had passed.

You open your phone quickly to see a bunch of missed calls and text messages from your older brother as well as a few from his roommate making you let out a sigh, knowing you were going to get an earful from the older one as soon as you got home.

As if Chris could read your thoughts, your phone immediately rings, a picture of you and him appearing on the lock screen. You hesitate for a beat before sliding your thumb across the screen and putting the phone to your ear.

"Hell—"

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

You flinch slightly at his sudden outburst, pulling the phone away from your ear as his voice booms out through the phone as if you had him on speaker. You glance in disdain at your phone as he continues his rant about safety and how he was about to lose his mind before you give Mr and Mrs Yang a sheepish smile.

"Sorry." You mumble out making Mrs Yang lets out a small laugh, waving her hand. "It's no problem dear." She says, glancing at the phone as your brothers voice continues to flow through it. "Family member?"

"Older brother." You say, a slight bit of disdain in your voice as Chris continues to rant, not knowing that you were only picking up on every fifth word of every sentence he was spouting.

You give them one more smile, gesturing for a second before standing and walking towards the door of the restaurant. You compose yourself a little before putting your phone back to your ear.

"— and I can't believe you didn't even think to bring the powerbank that I got for you for your birthday! Do those presents mean nothing to you, I swear to GOD—"

"CHRIS!" You yell into the phone, making him pause mid-rant as you inhale slowly. "I'm sorry for not picking up the phone or bringing that brick of a power bank that you got for me for my birthday." You apologize, gnawing on your bottom lip.

"I'm safe and would really love a pickup please." You say slightly softer this time. Chris was silent for a moment before a loud groan fills your ears. "I'm five minutes away Red." He says, his tone still slightly tense.

You blink at that. "What?" You say, a little taken aback by his statement. He scoffs and you imagine him rolling his eyes as he mutters something to himself.

"You forget that I have your location on my phone huh?" He says as you hear the buzzing of the car in the background, not knowing how you didn't notice it before. "I checked your location when I was in the office, realized that you weren't home so I left early to come get you after I couldn't reach you."

You felt guilt creep into your veins as you process his words and let out a small sigh, knowing how much you worried him. "I'm sorry." You say again, softly and more sincere this time. Chris lets out a sigh on the other end. "You're safe." He says, repeating your words from earlier, "I'll be there in three minutes, just wait outside for me."

The two of you hang up after you agree before you turn back to the elderly couple. Mr and Mrs Yang stand near you with your bag and another in their hands making you blink as Mr Yang passes you your bag while Mrs Yang passes you a large paper one.

You take it from her slightly tentative as you peer inside to see your clothes plus a couple of takeaway boxes making your eyes widen. You whip your head up to meet their gazes, your jaw dropped open as you try to sputter for a way to say that you didn't need this much food.

Mrs Yang halts you by raising her hand and giving you a stern look.

"Don't worry about it dear," She says, "We made too much food and from your phone call with your hyung, it seems like he might be hungry as well, so share the food with him."

"But the clothes—"

She waves you off again. "Please keep them!" She says before muttering a little lower, "Lord knows we have too many." She has a small knowing smile on her face as she glances up at her husband who laughs, sharing an inside joke from what you could tell.

"Are you two big fans of Seventeen?" You ask, not being able to help yourself as you glance between the two of them. The elderly couple let out another laugh at your confusion before Mrs Yang waves her hand. "Something like that." She says, a similar tone used when she said those same words just an hour before.

A horn outside the shop breaks the warm atmosphere making you look outside to see Chris's car. You turn back to the elderly couple.

"Thank you so much for everything." You thank making the couple give you a warm look as Mrs Yang steps forward to grab your hands into hers.

"I hope you come back soon dear." She says, her eyes glinting with sincerity as she gives your hands a squeeze. "We would love to feed you again and learn more about you."

You feel your chest warm slightly at her words before giving her a small nod as a smile crosses your face. "I will." You whisper out, giving her a small nod before she lets your hands go. You walk out of the restaurant and head to Chris's car but not before giving the elderly couple another wave.

Chris's cologne immediately fills your nose as soon as you shut the door before turning to your older brother who looked slightly more disheveled compared to when you left this morning.

Before he could open his mouth to chastise or fuss over you, you beat him to it.

"Thank you for picking me up and I'm sorry, I should listen to you next time and take the car and I will bring out the pink energy brick out with me tomorrow as well."

Chris blinks at your apology before a huff escapes him, he shakes his head and places his hands on the wheel again.

"You're so lucky that I'm more relieved than mad." He says, his tone still slightly tense with an undertone of tiredness. You give him a small smile before turning to place your bags in the backseat.

"We should come back to this restaurant sometime." You say as Chris puts the car into drive and slowly pulls away from the restaurant. "I think you would like their beef noodle soup."

You see Chris sneak a glance at you, a glint of confusion in them. "I thought you didn't like Chinese food?"

You shrug, looking out the window as the streets whizzed past. "Maybe I was too quick to judge." The double meaning in your sentence wasn't lost on you. Mrs Yang's words lingering in your thoughts as they play over and again.

Were you really too quick to dismiss this person who is meant to be your other half?

In the midst of her cleaning, Mrs Yang's eyebrows furrow as she hears the bell chime again, signaling that a customer has just arrived. She glances towards the door, her expression never changing until she spots the four that she has been feeding religiously for the last ten years.

"Aigooo." She coos out as soon as the tallest of them comes closer to her, dressed in a black hoodie with a luggage behind him. "I thought you all were only going to be back the day after tomorrow?"

Jun lets out a laugh as the elderly woman pulls him into a hug, accepting it by wrapping his arms around her tightly and giving her a shining smile. "Our schedule ended early." He cheekily says, his grin never wavering. "We were craving some food that tastes like home so we asked the driver to bring us here instead of back to our homes."

Soonyoung, Chan and Minghao stand behind him, with matching grins on their faces as Mrs Yang pulls each of them into a hug. Mr Yang, hearing the commotion steps out of the kitchen, his eyes and smile widening as he sees the four familiar boys.

"Wow!" He exclaims, bringing each of them in for a hug. "You boys look like the airport didn't even affect the four of you."

The four give him a sheepish smile before the elderly couple shoos them into the center table, eager to feed them.

"What can I get for you boys today?" Mrs Yang asks, her eyes glinting as she looks between the four boys. Soonyoung, Chan and Minghao share a teasing glance, before Chan turns to Mrs Yang.

"Mrs Yang," he singsongs out, "I hope you have your amazing beef noodle soup today!" He ends his sentence with a glance towards Jun, a smug grin on his face as the other shrinks slightly, a little flushed.

Mrs Yang glances between the two of them before turning her gaze to the tallest one.

"Did you miss our food so much that you brought the three boys along with you again?" She questions, a teasing smile on her face.

Jun flushes slightly at the accusation, lifting up both his hands to wave them as he lets out a sheepish laugh. "No no." He says, trying to defend himself through his laughs.

The other three collectively roll their eyes before Soonyoung turns to Mrs Yang, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Jun's soulmate was actually the ones who brought us here."

Mrs Yang's eyes widen as her hand flies to cover her open mouth before she turns to Jun. "Oh my gosh!" She exclaims. "You met her already?"

Jun shakes his head, scratching his nape as he fixes her with a semi lovesick grin. "She was having some Chinese food earlier." He says, his grin turning more lovesick by the second. "I tasted it when she was eating and it felt like she was enjoying it. It tasted almost like your beef noodle soup."

Mrs Yang freezes at that, but Jun doesn't notice as he keeps rambling on. "So, I thought that she was trying to tell me that maybe she was thinking about me or something." He says, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I thought maybe if I have it here, we would end up having the same dinner so that she knows that I'm thinking about her as well."

Jun locks eyes with the older lady who immediately composes herself, a small grin appearing on her face that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Well." She starts, clearing her throat as she glances at the four of them. "You've come right on time! Mr Yang just made a new batch of beef soup with amazing tender slices."

She claps her hands. "I'll bring them out for you four!"

With that, she scurries into the kitchen, her heart racing as she runs through the words that Jun has just relayed to her.

It could just be a coincidence right?

She leans against the metal counter, processing the information when her husband glances over at her. He frowns, noticing her spacey look.

"Lo-po?" He asks, the endearing name rolling off of his tongue as he steps closer to his wife, intertwining their hands together. "Are you alright?"

Mrs Yang looks up and gazes into her husbands eyes, hesitating slightly before nodding slowly.

She feigns a small smile. "I'm alright lo-gong." He analyzes her face, frowning slightly.

"Are you sure?" He asks, bringing his wife closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mrs Yang nods her head as she squeezes his hands in reassurance. "I'm fine dear." She glances through the kitchen curtain, looking at the tall boy who was laughing at something his members said, his grin bigger than it had been in months.

"I just hope that fate brings the two of them together."

THE SCALLION NOODLE MEETING - Week 3 out of 16

Two weeks later, you find yourself back in front of the glowing neon sign. You didn't know how or why but you felt a pull to this place that you couldn't explain.

You had tried to keep yourself busy the past two weeks. You visited almost all the different places on your list, eating tons of delicious food that tasted vaguely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Most of the time, you went by yourself during the non-peak hours, favouring the smaller crowds so that you could have some time to yourself and be able to document the flavour profiles correctly. Other times at night, you went with Chris who was determined to stick by your side as much as possible.

Today, however, you ended up cancelling all the restaurants on your agenda and you just unconsciously made your way here.

For two weeks, her words had been playing on repeat in your head. You found yourself thinking about the person who she meant, the person who was connected to your very soul. Somehow, you had started to yearn for him as well but you were stubborn, you wouldn't allow yourself to.

You continue to stare at the neon sign, unsure of whether you should go in when a voice interrupts your inner monologue.

"Are you going to stand there the whole day?"

You jump at the sound of the man's voice, whipping around to see a guy in a black hoodie, wearing a mask that obscures his face, the only thing visible being his eyes.

"God." You mutter out, glaring slightly at the man. "Do you normally sneak up on strangers and scare the daylights out of them?"

The man blinks at you before letting out a small laugh.

"Only when they're standing in-front of a Chinese restaurant, contemplating every single life choice they've ever made."