huh yunjin

OCTOBER 2025

The month of October never ceases to remind you that things change. 

The leaves outside of your apartment window are starting to turn into a darker shade of red and brown. They fall onto the cement sidewalk for pedestrians to experience the small joys of stepping on a particularly dry leaf as they take advantage of whatever the weather might be. There is so much happiness in the little things, and yet it’s the subtle changes that serve as a reminder that nothing will ever truly stay the same. 

In the small island countryside an hour outside of Seoul, Ganghwa is the complete opposite of the bustling city you grew up in. Instead of bright neon signs and late night tteokbokki carts outside of nightclubs, there are two movie theatres and a myriad of local advertisements on billboards on every highway. Restaurants and shops close around eight o’clock. There’s one outdoor shopping area at the edge of town right by the waterfront that everybody refers to as “the mall” even though it isn’t big enough to be considered one. 

You left the city that barely sleeps and traded it in for peace and silence. It’s the kind of quiet that would make any sane person go mad, but you’d rather spend the rest of your days sitting on the front porch of your one-bedroom apartment than maintain a penthouse suite at the La Terrasse. Overlooking Seoul from the very top of the building always had its charm, but it could never hold a candle to listening to the soothing sound of ocean waves pulling itself from the sandy shores nearby.

On your way to work, it's easy to take advantage of the fifteen minute walk down a scenic pathway. You pass by a local coffee shop and pick up a black coffee and a breakfast sandwich. If Minnie is behind the counter, you’ll stay and chat about her kids and the weather for a few minutes until you look at the clock behind her and head out. The town is just starting to wake up when you’re scheduled for the morning shifts and you find nothing better than watching everybody emerge from their cocoons at this time. 

Ganghwa Clinic is the only medical facility on the south side of the island with the private hospital on the northern end. It isn’t fancy or as busy like the ones in Seoul, but it’s enough to help the townsfolk get by. It’s owned by Kim Hayoon, who opened the clinic in 1987 with the purpose of bringing quality medical care to her hometown after witnessing the lack of proper treatment when she was a child. For thirty eight years, Hayoon has not only operated this facility, but she has gained the trust and a reputable status within this community. One can only hope to live up to her name someday. 

“Oh thank god you’re here.” 

Kim Sunoo stands before you in work pants and a polo shirt underneath light blue scrubs peeking out from below it. At this early hour, Sunoo looks like the epitome of a walking doll and you don’t know how he does it. 

“What, did the clinic catch on fire?”

“Haha, very funny. Everything’s fine. I’m just tired and bored, and Jake’s probably losing his mind because he’s been up for God knows how long.”

“You couldn’t wait until I clocked in to bother me, could you?”

He merely grins. “Nope. You know how much I like getting on your case.” Rolling your eyes has become second nature at this point.

“How’s Riki doing? Any minor injuries that I need to know about?”

“He’s eating out of the palm of my hand, as per usual,” Sunoo says with a playful laugh that makes his ears turn red. “He keeps making up excuses to come here. It’s completely bullshit, but I can’t help feeling sorry for the guy.”

Smiling, you wait for him to approach before walking towards the back area. “You’re endeared, Sun. I know that much for sure.”

“Ugh, as if. He’s an annoying pest that keeps coming in for minor ‘injuries’ that shouldn’t count as injuries.” 

“Maybe, but he’s definitely coming here because he wants to bother you. He gets so upset when you’re not around and he waits until you’re available to help him.” 

Sunoo revels in this information. It’s really cute watching your coworker trying (and failing) to deny his budding feelings for the boy. “Whatever. Don’t you need to clock in?” 

The clinic itself is small but spacious. It takes up an entire plot of land with an emergency landing area in the front, a special wing for patients that need extra care and overnight stays, a waiting area by the entrance, room for multiple hospital beds and curtains to separate, patient rooms, and a backroom that acts as a home away from home. As the town’s only medical center with equipment sustainable for serious injury just before a trip to the nearest hospital in Seoul, you have become well acquainted with the residents of Ganghwa in the three years you’ve lived on the island. 

Perhaps the calm and easy going atmosphere is what keeps you coming back to the clinic a few days a week. There’s little to complain about, even with the ever changing call times and the amount of hours on your timesheet. During flu season during late summer and into early winter, the clinic sees more foot traffic compared to the summertime, where patients typically come in for small work injuries. Children stop by for allergy check ups and the townspeople come by for their annual examinations. 

Really, it’s the people that keep you entertained. There are folks from all walks of life who live on this island. Ganghwa has its fair share of elderly neighbors who know about the town’s history by heart and young children who are just learning how to walk. There are fishermen who make humble work by shipping their catch to Seoul for profit and farmers at the northern part of town who help provide local, cheaper produce. It’s a self-sufficient town for the most part and the reason why you’ll never complain about an early or late call time is because you never know who will walk though the clinic doors. 

“Thank god you’re here.” 

“I’m starting to think this clinic would shut down if I quit.” 

Jake Sim looks at you with the kind of smile that would make any girl buckle at the knees. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, but he still greets you with a smile and stands up from his chair, discarding his half-eaten sandwich on the desk to pull you into the backroom with Sunoo trailing behind you. 

“We all know that’s true. It’s probably why Hayoon wants you to take her position when you’re ready,” Sunoo says as he leans on the desk and combs his hair with his fingers. 

“You guys having fun without me?” 

“If by fun, you mean tackling the paperwork before the clinic gets busy, then absolutely.” Jake settles back into his chair when you lean on the space next to him. He looks up at you and offers half of his sandwich, but you shake your head and tell him to finish it. “Do you think Hayoon would get mad if I took a quick nap?”

“Don’t be stupid, Sim,” Sunoo says with a short laugh. 

“My ass studied until the crack of dawn and forgot I had a shift today. Man, this cardiovascular shit is killing me.” He turns his chair to face you, clutching your hands dramatically. “I’m too young to die. Please, save me from my misery.” 

“You’re so stupid.”

“You love me like this,” Jake says with a grin. 

“Mhm.” 

“Anyway,” Sunoo interrupts, “the clinic’s opening soon so I’ll make my rounds and make sure we’re prepped for the day.” 

“Thanks, Sun. Can you make sure patient files are alphabetized when you get the chance? I think one of our interns forgot to put them in order last night.” 

“Yup!” 

Sunoo leaves the break room and the stopper shuts the door quietly behind him. Jake throws away the excess wrapper and opens his water bottle, chugging half of the container before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Do you think you could come over and help me understand the cardio lesson? Please?”

“You’re literally the smartest person I know. You don’t need my help.” 

“And you’re the smartest person I know, which is why I need your help. I nearly failed the last exam and now I’m scared that I’ll fall out of med school.”

Jake watches you roll your eyes. “What was your percentage?”

“Eighty-nine.”

“You ass.” He winces when you smack his shoulder. “You didn’t fail, dumbass.”

“An eighty-nine is not an A, dude. You know that. And you also know that I want to be chief of medical staff at Seoul National Hospital, so I can’t afford to fuck up my final grades.”

“Okay, I get where you’re coming from. It’s fun to give you grief, you know?” 

“Very funny. My arms and shoulders always catch strays whenever you’re around.” You hold your hand up and smile when he winces. 

“Good. Have I pavloved you enough to be scared of me?” He fixes his posture and dramatically sits upright.

“Nope.” 

“Ha. Sure.” You retract your hand and use your time card to clock in by placing the barcode on the back of your ID badge near an electronic reader. “You know, you better savor being able to clock in and get ready after your shift instead of doing all this shit before you start getting paid.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that I’m living in Heaven. Trust me. I hear horror stories from my classmates at their rotations and internships. It makes me happy that Hayoon’s pretty lax on that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because she runs a neighborhood clinic. When you make it big in Seoul, there’s less pay and more work.”

“Are you trying to say I can’t handle that pressure?” 

You smile softly. “No. I’m telling you how it is because making the switch from Ganghwa Clinic to SNH won’t be as smooth as your sweet talking.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“You know I support your dreams, right?” you ask him. “I think it’s cool. Seoul’s a big place. It’s scary when you don’t know anybody in the big city.” 

Jake’s eyes soften. “I know you’re just looking out for me. That's why you agreed to tutor me, right?” 

“Tsk. Believe what you want.” 

For the better half of three years, Jake’s been somewhere between your coworker and best friend. He was the first person who introduced himself to you when you first moved to Ganghwa with nothing but two large suitcases. Your apartment at the time hadn’t been far from his parents’ fishing port where they'd start work before the sun kissed the sky. When your wheel got stuck on some fishing line, Jake came to the rescue and used a pocket knife to cut and set your luggage free. You’d see him again the next morning when you let the delivery people take your mattress up to your room, and he had asked if you needed an extra pair of hands unpacking. 

At this time, the adrenaline that came with running from Seoul hadn’t worn off. You were anything but excited, instead wary of strangers and unable to truly appreciate a simple act of kindness because of the walls you maintained over the last two and a half decades of your life. His offer was met with a meek smile and a weak promise to tell him you’ll let him know if you need any help. He introduced himself and you timidly said your name before watching him walk into his parents’ place of business. 

It’s hard to think that so much time has passed since then. You were such a shy, empty shell of a woman compared to the version you see when you look into the mirror. It’s easy to run from your problems, but facing the lonely consequence of starting anew was something you thought you were ready for. Ganghwa was a challenge, though. There was no one to turn to and nothing to protect you from the lonely reality of moving to a new town, especially when you hadn’t known a single soul upon arrival. It was a stark juxtaposition from your life in Seoul. But even through the challenges and uphill battles, finding your way and carving out your own path seemed much more favorable than pretending to be someone you’re not. 

Still, the adjustment period took a while until you got used to it. Back home, you were too comfortable living in a large home as the only occupant. The house was grand and opulent, adorned with fine art from Europe and decor from Japan. Every room had a purpose and the household was just homelike enough to make you feel more inclined to keep up your end of the bargain. Seoul was a cushion you could always fall back on with resources and a network more than willing to point you in the right direction, but they never seemed to care enough to help you when you asked. Learning to keep to yourself was far easier than anyone gives you credit for. It must be why everybody was shocked when you had moved to Ganghwa. 

The weight of public opinion and familiar judgments follows you to the island. At the beginning, it seemed like the days were long and hard because it felt as though your past was just around every corner. Looking back at this time, you think of yourself as a bit too paranoid and conditioned to feel like you needed to care about what others thought of you. Bending yourself to the will of others was your fatal flaw, or so you’d like to think. 

Enter Jake. He’s the perfect boy next door who always seemed to have a smile on his face no matter what the season looked like outside. He was kind, sweet, and always willing to give you a helping hand even if you reached out to him at odd hours of the night. Jake was somebody completely new with no pretext as to who you were or why you came to Ganghwa in the first place. He was just a local citizen trying to get by while working to achieve his dreams on his own. He mirrored you in some way, too. The two of you were pursuing a degree in medicine at the same time, but mostly, you could see yourself in how he carried himself. You saw the way he was passionate about leaving Ganghwa to start a life in a brand new city where he had to prove himself worthy instead of being given opportunity upon opportunity without any real merit. 

There’s something about his grit and determination that resonated so deeply within you. Becoming close with him in a short period of time caught you off guard in every way imaginable. Jake was so kind and nonjudgmental, which was something you hadn’t experienced in a very long time, and although it took you a while to let your guard down, the reward was a blooming friendship that remained steady for three years. Unlike the chauvinistic personalities within Seoul’s elite group of families, Jake was down to earth and more than willing to help you let go of the past that haunted you so deeply. 

“Did you hear that the fall carnival is coming back to town?”

“Oh, is it?” you ask. 

“Mhm. Heard it from my mom a few days back. I guess the company was able to raise enough money to put it back on and make it better this year,”

“I remember when we went. That was a nice night.”

Jake laughs. “I don’t know if ‘nice’ is the right word. Everything looked like it was falling to pieces and the food was terrible. But sure, let’s go with ‘nice.’” ‘

“You’re such a pessimist.”

“Am not! Don’t slander my name.” Jake throws away his trash and clocks back into his shift with his card. “Anyway, I thought it would be cool to go together again. I know you had it pretty rough a few years ago, so I want to make new memories. That, and this carnival was so cool when I was a kid. I need you to experience that version.” 

“Okay, I might have to take you up on that offer. Are you still paying like you did the last time we went?"

Jake makes a displeased face. “That was different. But…sure. What the hell. You’re my best friend so of course I’d pay for you.” His mouth contorts into a soft smile when you beam at him.  

“You’re the best.” 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s the least I could do.”

You opt to join Sunoo in the front of the clinic while Jake works on some paperwork for Hayoon. He tells you he’ll be out in an hour or so, or whenever it starts to pick up. When you’re about to cross the threshold outside, Jake pulls your attention back to him when he calls out your name. 

“Yeah?” 

“Before I forget to ask, did Hayoon ever talk to you about a new investor?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Haven’t heard a thing about that.”

“Huh. Okay, ignore me.” 

“Why are you asking?” He shrugs casually, looking at the computer monitor before looking back at you.

“I think she’s been talking to somebody about bringing more money in for the clinic.”

“That's good, though. A new investor means more money.”

“I guess.” You lean on the door frame.

“Why do you seem so apprehensive about it?” 

“Well…I have a weird feeling. She knows more about this stuff than I do, obviously, but my gut’s telling me that something’s about to happen.” He waves himself off like he’s trying to convince you that he’s alright. “I’m probably overthinking it. I’m not privy to this stuff since Hayoon’s the main boss. I have a little bit of knowledge about investors because of my dad’s fishing business, but that’s pretty much it.”

“How do you know about this anyway? Did she talk to you about it?”

“Nope. I saw it in her email when I logged into work last week. Hayoon didn’t log out of her and I opened it by accident. Saw the correspondence and everything. Apparently, someone reached out to her out of the blue and said he was interested in investing.” 

“You snooped through her emails?!” 

“It was an accident!” Jake exclaims with his hands in the air. “I didn’t mean to read them but…it just kind of happened.”

“Okay so, what, some company reaches out to Hayoon out of the blue?”

“Seems like it. A bunch of people were copied that I don’t recognize. Legal teams and stuff. Don’t you think cold emailing somebody and being persistent on investing is a little shady?”

“Maybe not. Hayoon’s pretty well connected in Seoul, so it’s not that weird, I think. She’s been relying on investors since she started the clinic.”

“Yeah, you're right. Maybe it’s business from word of mouth?”

You shrug. “A blessing is a blessing.”

“They’ve been talking back and forth about setting up a meeting to discuss this in depth. He offered to pay the money upfront but she suggested sending somebody to check out the clinic before making any rash decisions.” 

“She should just take the money and run,” you say with a half laugh. 

“I think so too. But you know Hayoon. She’s painfully thorough and only accepts money from people who actually believe in this clinic.”

“It’s what I like about her the most.” 

“Me too. You know what’s weird? I did some digging into this company and they’re huge. I’m talking about investing in major stocks and partnering with Fortune 500 companies in America, huge. I don't know how Ganghwa Clinic got on their radar or why they want to invest in us. It makes me think this is some pro bono type shit.” 

There’s a brief pause. “Corporations have quotas they need to fill on an annual basis. A large part of the greater capital landscape includes giving back to the community and investing time and money into charitable businesses that do good in different areas of Korea. Maybe this is their objective.”

“You sound like you’re sure.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Another one of your weird backstories you refuse to talk about?” 

“You could say that.”

“Okay. Let’s say you’re right. It doesn’t seem like they’re doing this to be nice. A company as big as this would have a history of charitable work, but they don’t. I’ve never read anything about this company supporting any business that doesn’t directly tie into their own financial gain. I don’t understand why this company, or the guy who reached out for that matter, is so hellbent on investing in us.”

“What’s the name of the company?” 

“Park Financial Group.” 

What?

“I’m sorry, Park Financial Group is the company that wants to invest in us?”

“Yeah?” 

“Who’s the person Hayoon’s been emailing? Who’s coming to see the clinic?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It just does, Jake.” 

The way you look at him and the finality in your tone makes the hair on the back of Jake’s neck stand at attention. You’ve never talked to him like this. He’s used to playful banter or lulls in conversation where you look like you’re reminiscing about a past life from before you moved to Ganghwa, something Jake learned not to question in the early months of your friendship. But you’ve never talked to him like you’re afraid of what you might find out. It almost makes him scared to tell you what he knows.

“Tell me. Who’s coming to the clinic?”

“Some guy called Park Sunghoon.” 

Shit. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

JANUARY 2004

There’s a sweet bun in your lunchbox. Again. 

Maybe other eight-year-olds love sweet buns filled with vanilla cream and powdered sugar on top, but you’re not one of those kids. It tastes like sugar packets were poured directly onto your tongue. That sweet sensation makes your teeth ache and you’d much rather eat the savory items in your lunchbox, but your mother has a knack for trying to make you into something you’re not. 

You don’t eat it, but you don’t throw it out because your mom has a way of making you feel guilty for not fully appreciating the things she gives you, even if you never asked for them in the first place. If it’s uneaten, you’re likely to hear her go on and on about how ungrateful you are and hear her compare you to your younger brother—Jungwon has a sweet tooth and will always finish what’s put on his plate—which leaves you exhausted and upset. She’d say that you’re wasting good, expensive food when you throw it away because some less fortunate soul could’ve gotten it instead, and berate you for choosing to toss it in the trash. It was always a lose-lose situation with her. 

That layer of complexity was too much for you at that young age. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to eat it as fast as you can to avoid tasting it. But you’d be really sick after, right? All that sugar makes your stomach hurt and your mouth feel so dry. You’re not allowed to have anything but your pencils and workbooks with you. Water breaks were only during recess and class time outs. Throwing the dessert in the trash wasn’t an option either. You’d feel bad for the poor, imaginary soul who you envisioned watching you throw away a perfectly good treat. 

On a Wednesday afternoon in January, your classmate Sunghoon laments over the fact that he forgot his lunch. His desk is right next to yours. It sits just a few feet apart and today’s a particularly rainy day, so lunch recess is held in the classrooms instead of outside on the playground. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and see his plush lips pouting like he’s about to cry. He stares at his empty desk and his quiet demeanor makes you feel bad for him. 

What if you gave your sweet bun to Sunghoon? 

“Here,” you offer, putting it on his desk. He looks at you but doesn’t say anything. “You can have it. Did you forget your lunchbox? I forget mine too sometimes. My mom says I’m forgetful.” 

Sunghoon looks at it curiously and you hide a smile when he picks it up to inspect it.  

“I hate sweets,” you assure him. “You can have it.”

He unwraps the bun and takes a slow bite. It takes him a second to chew and he glances sideways towards you while he does it. You think he must be a shy little thing with the way his eyes dart back to his hands when you look back at him.

“Vanilla. My favorite.” 

You smile. “I like chocolate. But not when it’s really sweet. White chocolate is too sweet. Makes my teeth hurt.”

“I like candy and cake. My dad says me and my sister eat too much of it.”

“Maybe you do.”

“Hey.” 

You giggle. “Just kidding. More dessert for you.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t look so sullen anymore and that little pink dust on the apples of his cheeks makes him look so precious. The younger version of yourself feels a sense of warmth in your chest when you watch him eat instead of sulk over having no lunch that day. You think of him like some sort of newborn fawn looking at the world for the first time. He’s always been a shy, quiet kid who never raises his hand unless your teacher asks him questions directly. He doesn’t have many friends either, just his younger sister who goes to school in the kindergarten class across campus.

In some ways, you take it upon yourself to befriend Sunghoon and coax him out of his shell. Your mother, pleased with the sweet bun having seemingly been eaten from your lunchbox, packs you another one the following morning. It’s the same one from the previous day and you give it away to Sunghoon, who remembered to bring his lunchbox. He looks at you quite stunned when you walk up to him by the sandbox and hand him the sweet bun without saying a word. Sunghoon’s little hand takes it from you and watches as you sit next to him and begin eating. 

This pattern repeats itself during your lunch breaks. It doesn’t matter the dessert—more sweet buns, pies, cakes, or anything with too much frosting—you give it to Sunghoon and tell him some long winded, elaborate story about how much you detest desserts and how these particular sweets came to be in your lunchbox. In due time, Sunghoon begins to accept the sweet treats like he’s expecting you to hand it to him every time he sees you. A natural balance is created and it’s a win-win for the both of you. Sunghoon gets his fair share of being a sweet tooth and you no longer have your mother on your back about not appreciating what she gives to you.

He doesn’t talk too much but that doesn’t bother you at all. You’re used to your younger brother letting you talk his ear off while he remains quiet. You’d force him to dress up in a princess dress and play pretend with him to his dismay, and you’d speak on behalf of all the plush animals in your collection until you were satisfied with how it went. Tea parties were always your favorite. You’d create elaborate stories and assign character traits to the stuffed animals sitting at the table from nefarious business scandals (the brown bear absolutely stole a heap's worth of candy from the polar bear) to love affairs (the rabbit loved both the horse and the giraffe). All of it was discussed over tea with the melody of your voice serving as the soundtrack. Your brother chimed in from time to time, but it was always you that carried each conversation.

Somewhere along the way, Sunghoon became a replacement for these make-believe conversations. He was a real, tangible person who was willing to listen to everything you had to say, and it was the first time somebody paid real attention to you without obligation. Your mother and father were always too busy to pick you up from school or to entertain childlike wonder when they were off running a multi-billion dollar company, but these nuances wouldn’t come to you until much later in life. At this moment, Sunghoon is your best friend.

It was quite the surprise to find out that his parents knew yours. Of course, at such a young age, understanding how integral your respective families were to the greater Korean society went far over your little head. To you, your parents were merely people who provided a roof and enough food to keep you from going hungry. It wasn’t until one fateful evening that your parents brought you to the Park residence, where Sunghoon was wearing a three piece suit. Even at such a young age did you think he looked a bit silly like that. It wasn’t like you were any better in your baby pink pleated dress, opaque white tights, and shoes that made you feel like a ballerina. You’d fussed about the shade of pink but relented after a screaming match with your mother. 

Everybody was delighted to know the two of you had become fast friends. While his parents were worried that Sunghoon’s introverted tendencies would prevent him from making friends, your parents were worried that your extroversion would scare people off. There was a nice balance both sets of parents foresaw as the two of you hid away in the playroom just around the corner from the private dining hall in his home. 

Sunghoon has always been a sweet, quiet child. His patience and temperament was unmatched at his young age and everybody noticed it too. He had those chubby cheeks that made him look exceptionally cuter than he already was, and the younger version of you couldn’t help but point them out every time you sat next to him during recess in grade school. He wasn’t without other friends, but nobody knew him quite like you did. Even without having to say a word or lift a finger, you always seemed to know that basking in his silence meant he hung onto every word you said. 

He knew so much about you throughout the years the two of you grew up together. It wasn’t just sandbox lunch dates. It was social luncheons where his dress shirt collar was too tight and when your outfit was too colorful for your liking. It was weddings and birthdays for mutual friends within your shared social circle. Sunghoon saw you past his classmate who gave him sweet desserts as an act of defiance against your mother, who he knew could be overbearing when she wanted to be. And it wasn’t like Sunghoon was silent. He always preferred to talk when he had something to say and keep to himself otherwise. His father had taught him the importance of keeping one’s mind clear and succinct in order to get his point across. Sunghoon, who had always been a natural introvert, could use the excuse that he had nothing to add to the conversation when he didn’t feel like talking.

You, on the other hand, had no issue striking up conversations. Your ability to pull something out of thin air made you seem like a natural conversationalist, even as young as the second grade. You’re intimidating in ways a child shouldn’t be and well spoken for a girl who was learning how to structure sentences during the school day. Your eagerness to give Sunghoon your sweet treats made him look forward to the lunch recess, but it was your lack of expectation from him that made him stay.  

Sunghoon had chosen to stick by your side throughout grade school. The new school year brought changes and uncertainties he wasn’t used to, especially when he’d started to miss class for ice skating competitions when he was younger. Relying you on for homework and to catch him up on the latest gossip was a rewarding end to his tiresome days. It wasn’t until he decided to quit figure skating that your friendship changed forever. 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

OCTOBER 2025

“I need a drink.” 

“It’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

Ganghwa’s best drive bar (or so Jake claims) is a dingy little hideout on the edge of town. It’s a short drive from the clinic and even closer to his apartment. He says he comes here a lot to unwind and catch up with old friends. The bartender knows him well enough to know what he's going to order, and that alone tells you just how often Jake stops by. 

It smells of stale liquor and dried beer. Soji bottles sit atop the shelves behind the bar and the yellow light illuminates them like they’re meant to be some sort of homemade decor. The lighting in the room is too low for you to properly see everything, including a foosball table in the back and pool table right next to it. There’s a bit of smoke coming from the back, where a few older men are smoking cigarettes and talking amongst themselves. It feels familiar in ways that light up your bones and make the blood rush right to your cheeks, although you’d like to blame it on the fact that you’re wearing a long sleeved shirt in a warm room. 

“This one’s on me,” Jake says so casually. The bartender looks at you expectantly and you struggle to say something, looking at Jake like he grew another head.

“You don’t have to do that.” He flashes you that charming smile, the kind that used to make your stomach erupt like a school girl. You suppose it still does, because you turn towards the bartender and tell him you’ll have a rum and coke. 

“Tell Jakey what’s wrong and maybe he’ll solve all your problems.” 

“First of all, never call yourself ‘Jakey’ ever again.”

“Why? You don’t like it?” He leans against the bar table and raises his eyebrows like he’s trying to get you to laugh. Unfortunately, it works.

“You’re too cool to be talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Third person. It’s corny. And you’re making me feel embarrassed to be seen with you.” 

Jake smiles. “Got you to laugh, though.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a fond smile of your own. The bartender places both drinks on the table while Jake closes the tab. 

You take a sip and feel the carbonation and dark rum slide down your throat. The alcohol tastes like smoked vanilla and caramel and pairs well with the syrupy, sugary taste of Coca-Cola. The cocktail is so simple by design, but it tastes like nostalgia in a cup. 

The last time you drank was three and a half years ago and just before you moved to Ganghwa. You felt much like you do now—frustrated, anxious, and uncertain—and had found a bit of solace in the late hour accompanied by various cocktails and wines at your disposal. Life seemed much bigger than yourself back then. It felt like a never ending cycle of ego competitions and wondering if the next day would feel the same as the last. A good, strong liquor could make you feel like things were getting better, and it made you normal with your predicament. The familiar taste that graces your tongue brings you right back to that time in your life. 

“What’s up with you today?”

“Me?” You ask, feigning confusion. “Nothing’s wrong. Busy day as usual and I’m just tired.”

“You tell me that and yet we’re in a bar.” 

“So what?” 

“You never want to come to the bar with me,” Jake explains. “You decline every time I invite you out.” 

You feel yourself getting defensive. He watches you frown and straighten your posture. “And? I can choose to abstain from alcohol. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“That isn’t what I meant,” he says with a softer tone. It manages to diffuse how you feel just a little bit, but your fingers are still curled around your glass. That doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake, whose eyes dart to your grip. You manage to loosen it because his stare makes you a bit uncomfortable and you feel like you’re in the hot seat when he does press forward. 

You feel similarly to the way you did three years ago. The uncomfortable silence permeates as old feelings come back to the surface like the weight you had put on them suddenly vanished. The truth comes clawing at your throat with its sharp talons prodding at every spot that makes you want to cough. You feel helpless sitting next to him with 90s rock and roll floating in the air around you. It doesn’t help that the alcohol has started to hit on an empty stomach. You can’t remember the last time you ate today. Was it lunch?

Jake looks at you like he’s some sort of curious puppy trying to understand where your head is at. He’s never pushy nor aggressive with his approach. It makes you want to scream and hug him at the same time. Jake’s not one for being very direct when he knows sensitive topics are at play. Instead, he lets you come to him and waits patiently until you’re ready to talk. It’s how he won you over in the first place. While your neighbors and curious townsfolk were eager to get to know the new resident who moved to a small town from a big city, Jake was ready to lend a helping hand and make you feel more comfortable in your new living situation instead of prying for answers to questions they didn’t need to be asking. 

The thing is, the truth is sitting just underneath your threshold. It’s like there’s a gate that dictates what comes out of your mouth when you talk and chooses to close shut when it matters the most. You can talk anyone’s ear off about medicine or things you’re currently fascinated by, but the idea of opening up about your past with Sunghoon makes it feel like insects are crawling underneath your skin and making a permanent residence there. Your chest feels heavier now that you realize there’s nothing you can do about stopping him from coming here. Not when he’s that insistent on making it happen.

Everything you’ve been running from feels like they’re catching up to you. No matter how far you travel or how fast you’re going, it still manages to creep up on you like the cold autumn wind that follows hot summer air. It takes you by surprise. Just when you thought you’ve settled into your new life and manage to gather a routine that makes you feel excited about waking up the next morning, reality comes knocking on your door expecting to be let in. Life has a funny way of reminding you that these things never truly disappear. 

What would you even tell Jake? How could you explain the full truth to him and have it be coherent? Putting your emotions on the line is the last thing you want to do. You came to Ganghwa to forget about your past and you’ve made peace with the idea of things changing and forever evolving. But now it’s like you’ve been sent right back into the past where nothing and nobody could truly ever help nor understand you. How could you explain to Jake all that you’re running from? 

The apprehension across your face doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s hard to look at him when he can tell you’re holding yourself back. It’s been three years since Ganghwa became your permanent residence and you haven’t told a soul about why you moved here. Jake, for one, has been by your side since you first moved into your apartment. He’s been respectful and careful when conversation steers into uncharted territory. But what’s past is past and you can’t change anything from where you sit. Memories of late night rendezvous and managing to keep yourself awake for hours on end flash through your mind when you put yourself back in Seoul. The life you had in the past is nothing compared to the quiet but tedious one you live now. In fact, you’d take the peace and quiet that comes with a small town over loud chatter any day. 

There’s deep shame when you think about it. It’s the kind of feeling that keeps you up at night like an old haunt that refuses to leave you alone. Jake is so far removed from the person you once were and the life you lived; he’s the kind of person you can rely on when it counts and he’d never complain about an inconvenience if it means seeing you happy. He’ll answer the phone in the middle of the night without complaining and he’ll question everything just the right amount without prying too much. Jake is every bit of considerate in ways you aren’t and he’s the complete opposite of the people you knew back in Seoul. They would never dare to open doors they’re unwilling to shut behind them, but Jake is different. He’ll scope out the entire room and find every nook and cranny before piecing together the entire picture. He always knows the right questions to ask and will never leave any stone unturned, even if that means being patient and waiting for the right time to ask every question he harbors in his mind. 

“Is it because Hayoon didn’t tell us about the investor?” 

“No,” you say again with an exasperated sigh. “She doesn’t need to tell us who she’s doing business with. This clinic existed long before we were here. It’s not like I have the right to know everything going through her mind at any given moment.”

“You’re right, but we all know Hayoon wants you to run the clinic after you’ve gotten some experience when you graduate. That, and we all know it’s your dream to operate it whenever she decides to retire.” 

“It doesn’t bother me that she didn’t say anything about the new investor. Seriously.”

“You’re either lying to me or you’re not telling me the whole truth.” 

“Shut up.”

He grins. “Ah. I’m onto something.” 

“How she runs her business isn’t up to me,” you say as you settle back into your chair. “It’s not like I’m taking over the business any time soon. She can do whatever she wants and doesn't have to loop me in on it, or anything.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“Come on, dude. There’s something else you aren’t telling me. I respect it if you don’t want to talk about it right now, but you’ve been on edge ever since this morning. I’m only asking because I care about you. I’ve never seen you like this and it’s starting to worry me.” 

“It’s long and it’s complicated.” 

“I can do complicated.” He looks right at you. You, on the other hand, look down at your fingers and pick around your nails. Looking at Jake has become too much.

“Ha. Yeah, right. I’ve probably got enough trauma and terrible life experience to make you want to run for the hills.”

“Nah. You know me well enough to know there’s nothing that could scare me. I want to be a surgeon for a living, my dear.” 

“Do you want to stare at open bodies all day?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why are you so apprehensive about this Sunghoon guy?” 

Your mouth forms a thin smile. It irritates you to know that Jake’s right to call you out on your bullshit. He might be the only person in your life who might. 

“I used to be married to him.” 

The memory of his brown eyes avoiding your very own comes to mind when you think about him. Sunghoon had asked you to meet him at Vamfield Café on that fateful rainy Saturday morning five years ago. Senior year of undergrad tore you to pieces between the imminent expectation to begin the process of working at your family’s company with the goal of a transition of power by the time your parents wanted to retire. It was a time of reconciliation and considering the notion that the life you wanted was not the life you’d be living. 

Sunghoon called you out of the blue. After four years of watching his life on social media and barely hearing from him, your former friend had walked back into your life like he’d never left it. He still looked the same with his thick and dark eyebrows and lean, tall body. But he looks more mature now and much more beautiful than you remembered. When he sat across from you at that small restaurant tucked between a gas station and a dumpling house, you wondered if you were living in a dream or a nightmare. 

Will you marry me? He had asked while toying with a small black velvet box. 

He hadn’t talked to you since you both left for college. It felt like four years of solitude without him by your side in university. It was the first time in your life Sunghoon hadn’t been someone you could count on. Working on getting over your best friend and moving on felt like it was all for naught and your beating heart gave away the only ounce of dignity you had left. Sunghoon didn’t give you a chance to ask him why when he started to explain his reasoning for coming to you after all these years. 

I want to be upfront with you. My parents are only willing to consider me to take over the company if I show them commitment over the next five years. This marriage will only exist on paper and in the media. We’re free to do whatever we want as long as we hold up our contract for a few years.  

Sunghoon opens the box and you see a large cut diamond ring. It isn’t your taste at all. It’s expensive and flashy and catches the light from the ceiling, making it glisten right in front of your eyes. This isn’t how you imagined it going at all. Over the years, daydreaming about your best friend had become your favorite pastime and you’d always thought about waking up next to him every morning to help you fall asleep. Ideally, Sunghoon would ask you to marry him in the most casual yet intimate way without making it a grandiose occasion. He’d slip a ring onto your finger and tell you he loved you, and preferably, he’d look you in the eye when asking you to marry him. 

What do you say? Sunghoon asked as he looked up from the wooden dinner table. Are you in?

Like a hopefully, starry-eyed doe, you said yes. 

Jake spits some of his beer from his mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I used to be married to Park Sunghoon.” 

“Yeah, I heard the first time. What do you mean you were married?” 

“When two people choose to spend the rest of their lives together, they hold a ceremony—”

“I’m serious,” Jake says with that tone of his that makes you shut your mouth. He’s usually the kind of guy that likes to joke around more often than not. He’s the first person to crack a joke in awkward silence and greet everybody before you could get a word in. The look he gives you tells you everything you need to know about how he might be feeling, and the guilt of keeping so much of your past in the dark weighs on you as you try to sit still.

“Please don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not mad.” Jake sighs and puts his beer back on the table. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I didn’t expect you to say you were married.” 

“For two years.”

“Two years,” Jake says like he’s trying to measure the length of time. “Wow. That’s, uh, a decent amount of time to be married to someone.” 

“I was young and really in love.

“As most people would be.” 

“Too young to know what I was getting myself into, probably.”

“There are so many couples in this town that probably said the same thing.” 

That makes you laugh. “Probably.”

“So you and Sunghoon got married? And then what?” 

“Got married, lived together for two years, then divorced.” 

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It was.” 

“We both know you’re lying but I’ll skip past that for now. You’re telling me you didn’t live with him until after your wedding?”

“We had our own separate homes.”

“Where did you go on your honeymoon?” 

“We didn’t have one.”

“What?”

“We just weren’t that type of couple.” 

“He never took you on a vacation to celebrate being married? You guys jumped straight into domestic, married life and never looked back?” 

“You’re too much of a hopeless romantic.”

“And you aren’t romantic enough.” 

You check his shoulder with your own. “We were busy, okay? Sunghoon was being considered to take over his father’s company. It was a stressful time for him.”

“What about you?”

“Well, my parents really wanted me to take over their business too. I didn’t want to work for a bunch of financial executives and eventually become one myself, so I left.” 

“There are so many questions I have for you,” Jake says. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You can start anywhere, I guess.”

“You’re rich.” 

“That isn’t a question.”

He waves you off. “Semantics. You’re telling me I paid for both of our drinks and you’re rich?” 

“Don’t act like you refuse to let me pay.”

“Might let you foot the bill or two.” Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It isn’t because you might need to actually repay Jake fiscally. There’s some lingering thought in the back of your head that he, and the other people you care about in Ganghwa, will look and treat you differently when they know the truth. 

“I’ll pay whatever if that makes you don’t treat me differently.”

His eyes soften. “Hey, I won’t think of you like those rich chaebols who don’t give two shits about the working class. You’ve earned your keep. I just need a minute or two to digest the fact that you used to be married and that you’re an heiress.” 

“Ha. Heiress. That’s funny. I highly doubt my parents would give the company to me. Not that I want it, anyway. It’ll probably fall under the hands of my brother.”

“Ah, yes. Jungwon, who fell into the river the first time I took him fishing.”

“That’s the one. He’s way more into this accounting and finance stuff than I am. He’s a natural at it, too. I never cared much for investing or being on the board of some shitty company that turns profit for rich people. Jungwon will do some good.” 

“The more you talk, the less chaebol you seem.” 

“I don’t think I ever fit that side of the stereotype. I think my parents and everyone else knew it too. My head was always up in the clouds and I hated anything that had to do with fundraisers and public outings. Everyone made me feel like a zoo animal instead of a human being. I always wanted to do something bigger than myself. I was the problem child because I never did what I was told until it was time to step up to the plate and accept responsibility. I hated who I was before moving here. I felt like I was a puppet and everybody got to tug on my strings until they got bored.”

“What do you mean by stepping up to the plate? Did your parents pressure you into taking over the company?” You look down at your drink to see the ice floating in the alcohol. The glass is cool from the condensation, a drastic juxtaposition from how warm and sweaty your palms are becoming. 

“Sunghoon and I got married because it’s what our parents wanted. Our marriage would strengthen our family’s reputations and his father would let him take over the company if he started a family. My mom pressured me into it. She said there were rumors about me becoming a spinster. I never cared, but she was the pinnacle of society back then. We’d grown up together and it made sense.”

“Wait…You were in an arranged marriage?” 

“Pretty much.”

“You say that like it’s another Tuesday.” 

“I say that because it happened years ago and I’ve moved on from it.”

“Clearly,” Jake says sarcastically. “We’re sitting in a bar on a weeknight and you’re rehashing this like it’s just another story.”

“I’m over it, Jake. What’s past is past. I can’t go back and change things for how they are. Besides, I’m really happy now. I don’t have people in my ear telling me who to be or how to dress. I get to make my own path and do what I want with my life instead of following in the footsteps of people who think they know what’s best. Seoul always felt like it was choking the life out of me. I never got to do anything I wanted and had to listen to other people tell me who I was supposed to be and how to act. My family never cared about what I wanted and forced me to do things I wish I could undo. But I can’t change it. I can’t go back in time and tell myself to leave faster. I’ve grown a lot since then and I don’t want to think about the person I was before moving here.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a little bit. The discomfort settles as he searches for the right thing to say. It’s the first time you’ve opened up to him about your life before Ganghwa. He’s heard bits and pieces, like stories with your brother and favorite childhood memories, but he can’t recall a single time where you’ve ever reminisced over your life if Jungwon wasn’t involved. It makes him wonder what other things you might be bottling up. 

He’s halfway finished with his beer. The condensation drips onto his fingers. “I kind of get it. It’s not the same, but that’s what living here feels like. I’ve spent my entire life doing what other people wanted until I decided to stop.”

“It never gets any easier, does it?”

Jake shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Although, misery loves company so that’s probably why we’re friends.” 

“Ever the optimist.” 

“One of us has to be.” 

“Sunghoon and I were childhood friends first, you know. We met in the second grade when he forgot his lunch, so we shared mine. Our friendship kind of happened. We were really close until high school. Things changed and we drifted apart until we got married.”

“I feel like I’m missing something here.” 

With a deep sigh, the acid in your stomach feels like it might as well come up your throat. The chatter in the bar is low and you feel like everybody behind you is listening to every word you say, even though you know that isn’t true. Opening up like this feels as though you’re putting your heart right on the table in front of everyone to see. 

Most of all, you’re nervous for Jake’s reaction. He’s been such a pivotal role in your life for a while now and you’ve managed to keep him separate from your life back home. It’s been years since you got caught up in this mess. He’s been here for you through a lot and the person you were before meeting him is drastically different compared to who you are today. Talking about Sunghoon brings up old wounds that make you feel ashamed for loving so deeply. It makes you feel naive for thinking you could have it all. 

“I was in love,” you tell him despite the uncomfortable warmth creeping up your neck. “I was really in love with him. We grew up together and I learned so much about him that it felt so natural to me. And it made sense. I knew everything about him and he knew everything about me. But you never really know a person when they’re hiding things from you. Not really, anyway. I could always sense what Sunghoon was feeling and I knew he was pulling away from me when we got to high school. God, I was so naive and hopeful when I was younger. I thought he’d grow out of the phase of wanting nothing to do with me. But it never did. We got married for optics and then I divorced him because I was fed up.” 

“That sounds like a lot. I’m sorry things didn’t work out.” 

Laughing, you think about how funny it is that the younger version of you would’ve been jumping for joy about Sunghoon coming to visit. Now, it feels like a pain point. “In another life, I guess. I don’t love him anymore. I haven’t seen him or his family in three years and I intend to keep it that way.” 

The bartender interrupts your conversation to check in and you buy yourself another rum and coke. Jake pulls out his wallet to pay for you, but you put your card down instead. He doesn’t add anything to the tab because he’s responsible for driving you home, so you close it out and sign the receipt. 

As you drink your second cocktail, Jake starts the conversation once you’re both alone. “You were pretty shaken up when we first met. I guess now I know why.” 

“Sorry for not saying anything. I was…embarrassed. A lot of shit went down that I’m not proud of.” 

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize for everything. We’re friends, right? Friends help each other through good and bad. You don’t need to feel guilty for anything.” 

It’s uncomfortable to sit next to him after divulging your past. It doesn’t matter that you’ve known him for a while. It’s still weird. “I don’t want there to be secrets between us. I need some time.” 

Jake’s hand feels warm against your back. You bring the glass back up to your lips and finish your cocktail. It’s too warm in this bar and everything feels like it’s closing in around you. You know Jake’s more curious than he comes off but you also know he’s the type of person to let you come to him at your own pace. He’s learned that forcing you to open up will result in you shutting him out. 

“I’ll drive you home?” Jake asks tenderly, pulling his hand away from you. 

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. I have another early morning.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

He’s asking you like there’s an underlying meaning behind his question. You brush it off and stand from the barstool, grabbing the jacket you draped on the counter. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need to shower and sleep.” 

The ride home isn’t a long one. Jake parks in front of your place ten minutes later and looks at you as you close his door behind you. “Get some sleep and don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“You care too much about me.”

“I’d like to think I care enough.” 

You laugh at that, bending down to see him smiling at you. “You’re something else, Jake Sim.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I know you better than you think. Take it easy tonight and sleep early. I mean it.”  

“Goodnight, Jake.” 

“Goodnight, Jabba the Hutt.” 

Groaning, he watches you roll your eyes and laughs when you do. “You always ruin the moment.” 

“I’m a comedian. You needed a laugh so I gave you one.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave him off and laugh at the same time. “Get home safe, yeah? Text me when you’re home.”

“You got it, Boss.” Jake’s car disappears from your sight when you walk to your front door. He doesn’t leave until he’s watched you enter your apartment and gives you one last smile when you look back.  

Being able to walk around your apartment without bumping into furniture or feeling dizzy catches you off guard. You haven’t eaten since lunch and drank on an empty stomach, and this bar has a reputation for pouring with a heavy hand. When you reach the refrigerator, you opt to grab a few snacks instead of cooking yourself a meal when you become too tired to do anything beyond brushing your teeth and washing your face. 

Jake texts you by the time you’re out of the bathroom to let you know he got home okay. He attaches a picture of himself and his dog Layla as if trying to convince you to smile one last time tonight. Jake doesn’t seem to ever think twice about reminding you that there are things and people you still love despite the hardship you’ve endured. He somehow always knows how to lift your spirits and make your problems feel minuscule. He’s considerate like that. 

You let him know you’re about to sleep when you’re underneath the covers. When social media barely distracts you from Sunghoon coming to Ganghwa, you set an alarm for the next morning and hope you’ll wake up without a headache.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you find yourself starting your day at a decent time. With a fully sober mind and a chill running through your body because of the autumn air, you reflect on the night before and almost can’t believe Sunghoon’s name shocked you to the point of consuming two drinks. It had been a choice to abstain from alcohol for the time you were in Ganghwa and you told yourself you were too busy to go out drinking. But deep down you know that it takes more than self restraint to avoid slipping back into bad habits. Last night had just been a fluke. Two drinks doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve taken a step back. You’re much stronger than that, right? 

You see a few people that are due for minor check ups in the lobby waiting for available doctors and exams rooms. Saying hello distracts you temporarily from these thoughts that don’t seem to leave your mind. It feels nice to be taken seriously as if you're a real, practicing doctor instead of a medical attending in training. You can’t wear the pristine white coat just yet. Not really, anyway. For now, it’s scrubs and a stethoscope around your neck just to make you feel a bit more professional than you actually are. 

The people in the facility and those who stop by to check in on you resemble the kind of community you’ve been craving for your entire life. Ganghwa Clinic is everything you could’ve hoped for, and the townsfolk who entrust your ever evolving wisdom make it all worth it. To care for a town that cares for you right back feels like some kind of fair and just reciprocity system. There’s no competing and nothing obstructing you from truly helping those who need it. There’s just a pure, uninterrupted community that can lean on each other in times of need. 

Memories of Sunghoon came flooding back to you in that bar with Jake. Being alone in your apartment didn’t fare any better. Images of the two of you flashed across your closed eyelids when you tried to fall asleep and it seems the last time you saw him wasn’t too long ago. Sunghoon might as well be a figment of your imagination or somebody you met in your past life, not your ex-husband and a person you were once deeply and madly in love with. You already left him behind. Why is he coming to Ganghwa and attending to business here? What does he have to gain from it? Why does the world seem to want you to suffer and rehash all of the pain and trauma you’ve successfully escaped? Living on your own and navigating life without constant expectation on both of your shoulders was something freeing and liberating, and it feels like life wants to put you back where you were all those years ago. 

It’s easy to conflate love with escapism. Sunghoon acted as a distraction from your parents and future, but he was also somebody who you trusted. He’d never given you a reason to doubt him up until high school. He’d been your best friend and your everything through thick and thin, and you were always there for him when he needed you the most, too. You’d trade secrets and share everything behind your parents’ backs. It was easy to be his friend and even easier to fall in love with him. Sunghoon’s awkward and timid nature dissipated when he was with you. But it felt like a switch had flipped when high school came around, and the Sunghoon you knew was no longer. Even then, loving him wasn’t a choice. It took a great deal of heartbreak and reality to pull you out of your daydreams. In a way, the current version of you wonders if you’d been living in your head up until you had to leave your hometown. Everything left behind is a product of expectation. Everything you’ve built now is because you worked hard for it.

Love is a flawed construct. It’s built on societal assumption. You’ve been conditioned to view romance as simple as dating and marriage. Everything in between should be easy and simple, but it's not. The hard work to keep a peaceful marriage and control one’s feelings extends far beyond love. Love is cliché and nonexistent; it’s a cover for underlying hatred and it allows people closest to you to lie and get away with it. It harbors deep resentment for the unfixable and blinds people to the point of no return. Love is much more than marriage and schoolgirl feelings. Love means breaking your heart over and over again until there’s nothing left for others to take. And, apparently, it’s all you can think about since waking up. 

Hayoon greets you at the front door. “Good morning! How’d you sleep?”

Wary, you glance at her. Hayoon is the type of woman who starts her day as soon as she wakes up and expects everybody to be the same. Small talk isn’t her forte, nor is it yours, so her mundane question surprises you. But she looks delighted nonetheless and you play along. “Just fine. Why do you ask?” 

She smiles like she knows something you don’t. “How are your studies?”

You cock your head to the side. “Difficult, but what else should I expect from medical school?” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true." Hayoon laughs and guides you towards the back room and into the lounge. “Well, I guess there’s no use beating around the bush. I actually wanted to talk to you about something important.” 

“Like what?” 

“Why don’t you clock in first. I’ll approve the extra time on your next paycheck.” When you put your bag away in a secure cupboard and start your time clock, you look behind you to see Hayoon learning on the table. She pats the spot next to her. “I think the work we do is really important and I know you do too. One of the reasons why I hired you and wanted to train you was because of your passion and determination to do good by society.”

“Thanks? I’m a little nervous. You’re not usually so…comforting.” 

“I give you tough love and that’s what you need to hear, huh?” Hayoon laughs and bumps her shoulder with yours. “I might be straightforward, but I care about you and your career. That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually. As we’ve talked about before, if your goal is to take over the clinic by the time you’ve got some real experience in a hospital after you graduate, I want you to run this clinic and come back to Ganghwa.”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “That’s still my dream.” 

“I thought you’d say that. This clinic is built on investing funds to keep us up and running. We do business with people who care about us and don’t accept any handouts. That’s the level of care I expect from you when you eventually take over. In order for you to understand where I’m coming from, I’d like you to be involved in the initial process.” 

Your stomach sinks. Being involved with the “investor” means facing Sunghoon. Hayoon doesn’t know you know this, though. She looks so eager to jumpstart your career. Meanwhile, you don’t know how to feel. “What do you mean?” 

“I only do business with people who have the community’s best interest in mind. People can donate money and gloat to publicity, but I want to make sure the people we work with care about humanity. I usually have investors come to the clinic and see what our town is all about before we come to an agreement. I want the investor to shadow you for the morning and for you to show him what Ganghwa has to offer.” 

“Who is the investor?” 

You know the answer, but you hope Hayoon will tell you somebody with a completely different name is the person she’s been speaking with. Maybe this is one big nightmare and your conversation with Jake never happened. Hayoon’s phone chimes and she pulls it out. Looking at the text message, she grins and steps away from the table, urging you to follow her back towards the front of the clinic. The palms of your hands are sweating and your feet grow heavier with every step you take. Is it normal for your heart to feel like it’s making an indent in your chest? The medical student in you says no, but the irrational part of your brain remembers what it felt like to live day-to-day as the wife to a man who couldn’t truly love you like you wanted. 

Your worst nightmare becomes your reality when you see Sunghoon standing beside the double doors. He locks his eyes with you and the feeling of your stomach dropping nearly makes you trip over yourself. It takes a few seconds for you to truly understand what Hayoon is asking of you, and the more Sunghoon looks at you, the more you want to turn around and lock yourself in the staff lounge. The urge to run away from your fears isn’t something you’ve encountered in a long time and it’s as if your efforts to move past your traumas were all for nothing. Seeing him for the first time in three years brings out that immature, juvenile side of you that wants to shut everybody out until it’s safe to emerge back into the world. 

It’s unfair how well put together he looks. Sunghoon isn’t wearing his standard three piece suit or office attire like he did when you were married to him. He wears a dark black bomber jacket, a pair of nice slacks, durable sneakers, and a shirt underneath that looks like it came from the dry cleaners. He looks polished even when he isn’t trying to. You’re wearing jeans you haven’t washed in ages and a shirt that’s been worn so many times that the design is starting to fade. You’ve got eyebags and dry skin littering your face and your hair is far too greasy than you’d like it to be. It feel so fucking unfair that the first time you’re seeing Sunghoon after all these years has to be under this particular circumstance. At the very least, you wish you could’ve looked better to show him what he was always missing out on. Now, you feel like a laughing stock. 

“Meet Park Sunghoon,” Hayoon says as she brings you out of your own head. “He’s the potential investor.” 

The silence that follows is almost deafening. He’s much taller than you remember. Sunghoon looks so different, but somehow he looks exactly the same. He’s still got those moles on his face and it upsets you to think about how you once loved them so much. 

“Good morning.” Sunghoon doesn’t break eye contact when he speaks.

Your throat closes up and you have to force yourself to talk. “Hello.” 

Hayoon looks between the two of you but doesn’t say anything. Her smile doesn’t falter and you honestly can’t tell if she knows how awkward this is for you. If she notices, she chooses not to address it. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence again. “It’s nice to see you.”

You don’t know why you’re inherently caught off guard. That simple statement feels like he’s disregarding the entirety of your friendship and marriage to him, but you quickly reel it back in when you remember the circumstance. 

“Sorry to spring this up on you quickly,” Hayoon apologizes to you. “There was a last minute conflict and today was the only day he could come this week. But you should be able to handle overseeing him for the morning, right?” 

“Of course. It’s…fine.” It’s not fine.

“Let’s talk more in the lounge. I don’t anticipate that people will be coming so early and the receptionist can page me if we need to attend to someone.” 

Wordlessly, you follow Hayoon and turn your heel to avoid looking at Sunghoon. Maybe pretending he isn’t walking behind you will alleviate the anxiety and stress you find yourself under. Instead, Sunghoon’s presence lingers right over you when you both step into the lounge. 

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Hayoon says to Sunghoon, who bows his head, much to her pleasure. You hold yourself from rolling your eyes. “Make yourself at home for the time you’re here. There are snacks in the fridge and a water fountain around the corner. Feel free to leave your bag and keys in these cupboards.” 

You want to say something, but you don’t. Those pantry snacks were collectively purchased by Jake and yourself, and you don’t want Sunghoon’s hands touching them. But this is a business opportunity for Hayoon, so you don’t. You put your indifference aside and try to focus on learning from her instead of causing a scene and costing not only Hayoon an investment, but costing you a potential shot at taking over when she retires. 

“I know we spoke over email, but I wanted to say it again so you know what to expect. My girl here is the best doctor-in-training I have ever met,” says Hayoon, who beams at you like a proud mother would for her daughter. “She’s been working with me for almost three years and I think you’ll learn a lot about this clinic and the community around it if you learn from her.” 

“She spoke very highly of you.”

Nostalgia and familiar warmth embed in Sunghoon’s deep, honey-like voice. His deep timbre makes you think about your past with him, and it’s as if hearing his voice in person after three years started to undo all of the grieving you’ve accomplished since you left him behind. But when you look at him, that same boy who used to steal your colored pencils in grade school just to get your attention is not the person looking back at you. Hearing him talk doesn’t bring you the comfort it once did and seeing him brings you back to these nostalgic memories that make you sick to your stomach. Sunghoon reminds you just how much you loved and all you have since lost.

“Obviously, Sunghoon isn’t going to participate in our day-to-day functions. But I want him to sit in on consultations and watch you work. You’ll have to ask patients for their permission, of course, but I can’t imagine anyone here would say no. How does that sound?”

“To be clear, are you asking him to follow me around for the morning?” 

“Precisely,” she says with a firm nod. “There’s no better way for him to understand what we do here if he doesn’t see it first hand.” Well, this is the last thing you’d rather be doing. You want to keep your head down and work until you clock out. You had hoped today would be smooth sailing, but it seems like there’s no chance of that happening. “It’ll be less busy in the morning before lunch. We’ll reconvene before your break and talk about next steps, okay? For now, get Sunghoon acquainted with proper attire and have him wash up like we usually do.”

Hayoon doesn’t give you another second to think, nor does she give you any time to protest. It’s not like you would anyway, especially when your future might depend on how well you treat Sunghoon for the next few hours. You tune out Hayoon chatting with him about understanding the culture at this clinic and in this town, and focus on grabbing extra scrubs in his size to pretend like you’re busier than you actually are. She leaves a few minutes later and the tension in the back lounge grows tenfold.

“You look good.” 

You barely manage to look at Sunghoon. Instead, you thrust the scrubs in his hands and back away like you’ve been burned. “Put those on and change your pants. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Leave your shirt underneath. Cover your shoes with the shoe covers by the door. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

“It’s good to see you.” 

“Rotations start in ten minutes. Hurry and don’t be late.” Sunghoon calls out your name when you look away from him. 

Sparing a glance at him makes you feel like bile is piling up against your throat. Everything feels too loud in this quiet room and the blood rushes against your ears because of the deafening silence. Sunghoon just looks at you like he’s expecting you to say something. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I’m here to shadow you for today.”

“No. Why are you here? In Ganghwa? Why are you in my home?” 

He doesn’t look away but you think you see his shoulder drop. You haven’t been the center of his attention in nearly a decade and being in his direct line of sight makes your knees feel brittle and unstable. You’ve nearly forgotten what it’s like to look into his dark, warm eyes that were typically accompanied with a smile. That same look has since long been gone for as long as you remember and these nostalgic feelings make you feel sick. 

“I’m here on behalf of my company. I’d like to invest in this clinic and help you keep it afloat.” You scoff. Sunghoon seems to be taken aback by your coldness, just barely flinching when you look at him with disgust. 

“Your company?”

A beat of silence passes. “I’m the interim president until my father steps down in the new year.” 

The pace at which you tilt your head nearly makes your neck snap. You can barely manage a scoff. “You got what you wanted. I don’t know why you need to involve us. Leave this clinic alone. Leave me alone.” He swallows thickly. You don’t give him enough time to formulate a response because you’re already out the door, leaving him alone to change into more appropriate work attire. 

Being in that room with him was more than overwhelming. It was an attack on every sense you possess and nothing could’ve ever prepared you for coming face-to-face with somebody you’ve tried so hard to get over. It’s comical that you finally arrived at a place where Sunghoon was the last person on your mind only to be put in a situation where he’s the person you have to care for. Again. 

“This is bullshit,” you whisper to yourself underneath your breath. You wait by the door and hear Sunghoon shuffling from the other side. You close your eyes and let the back of your head hit the wall and squeeze them while they’re shut as if to wake yourself from a bad dream. 

You don’t wake up., Sunghoon opens the door and walks out, effectively bringing you back to reality. He has that look you know better than anyone else because you’d conditioned yourself to look out for the shy boy you knew in grade school; Sunghoon forces his introversion down and walks with his shoulders pushed back and his chin parallel to the ground like he knows what he’s doing. He walks with an air of confidence that always made you believe he held command and the attention of any room he walked into. 

But now? He looks out of place. Sunghoon is far too polished to be in a town like this and it reminds you of how you were when you first moved to Ganghwa. He looks like he doesn’t know a single thing about the town or the community, and his introversion makes him look like he’s here on business because he has to be, not because he wants to be. The rational part of you knows it’s always awkward seeing old faces, but the part of you that holds resentment for Sunghoon wants to take your anger out on him for having the audacity to not only step foot in your new home, but stake some ownership in the clinic you’ve worked so hard for. 

There’s persistent tension in this damn building. There’s an issue that needs to be addressed but you neither have the time nor patience to deal with it. You’re sitting in devastation and torment, asking yourself what kind of audacity Sunghoon possesses to walk into your place of work like he’d do everyone a favor by signing a check. To influential people like him, it’s just another tax write off and an excuse to make himself feel like a good person by doing the bare minimum. 

You hate how nonchalant he can be. You hate that it’s hard to read him now that you’ve spent three years apart. There used to be a time when you could take his emotional temperature solely by looking at him. Now you might as well be looking at a stone wall. And you’re hating yourself for thinking back to the past. 

“Ready,” Sunghoon says with a single nod. He keeps his hands to himself and looks at you expectantly. It takes a great deal to push yourself from the wall and start your day. 

“You could’ve warned me that you were coming,” you tell him. Sunghoon trails behind you and keeps a respectable distance. 

“I didn’t know you worked here.”  Your eyes roll towards the back of your head but keep looking forward. 

“You’re Park Sunghoon. Type A and as diligent as fucking ever. Don’t feed me that bullshit.” Sunghoon doesn’t say anything right away. Can he tell you aren’t the docile, naive girl he used to know? The version of you who was in love with him wouldn’t have dared to speak with such venom. 

Instead, he speaks quietly. “I just want to help.” 

“My ass,” you mutter under your breath, not caring if he hears or not. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

It’s bright and early, and the sun shines through the big, glass windows along the front end of the clinic. It’s ironic how beautiful it is because you feel like the human embodiment of a silent storm encapsulated by rain and thunder. You wish it would start raining and snowing at the same time. Sunghoon hated it when it snowed. 

You take a deep breath and stop walking before abruptly turning around. Sunghoon nearly stumbles on his shoe laces because he’s caught off guard and stops himself from toppling over you. “You’re my assistant for today, so you’ll do what I tell you or else I’ll send you back to Hayoon. The patients you’ll meet today are real, hard-working people who get by through honest work and labor. These aren’t rich people who can afford top medicine like the people you associate yourself with. Do not treat yourself like you’re hot shit because nobody here will care about how much money you have in your bank account. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” 

“Do not question me and my choices. Do not touch anything. Do not argue with me when I tell you to do something. You are not allowed to leave my side unless I specifically give you permission. You will be sensitive and understanding towards the people you meet today.”

“Of course.”

“And do not, under any circumstance, tell anybody that we are divorced.” 

Sunghoon’s lips open slightly ajar as if he’s about to speak, but he just stares at you. He’s never looked at you with such perplexity before he visibly gulps. It makes your stomach turn for all the wrong reasons when you maintain eye contact to tell him you mean serious business. To his credit, Sunghoon looks genuinely afraid of what the consequences are if he were to break one of your rules, and that almost makes you smile. You turn on your heel and head out to start your work. 

He trails behind you like a lost puppy. You hate feeling his presence behind you. In your worst scenario, you always imagined Sunghoon rejecting your love confession and choosing to never see you again by his own will. You’d argue that having him in proximity after you’ve moved on is much, much worse.

“Good morning, Riki.” The tall blonde looks up from where he sits by the wall, patiently waiting to be examined. He looks at you and offers a smile before looking next to you to see Sunghoon, who looks much like a fish out of water and unsure of if he should say something or keep quiet. He chooses the latter. 

“Morning, Doc,” Riki says as he stands up. 

“Not a doctor.”

“Yet.” 

You both laugh. “Sunoo isn’t working today, if that’s why you’re here.” 

“Pfft, what?” Riki says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not here for him.”

“Then why are you here?” 

He holds his arm up, showing his wrist that has been wrapped with gauze. “Sunoo wrapped me up yesterday. Though I’d show him how it’s almost healed.” You laugh because this is way too cute. 

“Go to Exam Room 3 and take a seat for me.” Riki walks towards the open and empty room and sits on the protective paper covering the seat. He looks like a walking giant compared to before his ridiculous growth spurt.

“Who’s that?” Riki asks when you step in the room after him.

“This is Sunghoon,” you introduce, stepping aside and allowing Sunghoon to come into the room too. “He’s a potential investor for the clinic and he’ll be shadowing me this morning. Would you mind if he stayed during your exam?” 

Riki shakes his head. “Nah, it’s cool.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Sunghoon, who bows his head awkwardly and steps closer to the two of you when you start to unravel the gauze around Riki’s wrist. 

“Are you from Seoul?” Riki asks. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere.” 

“I work with Park Financial Group, actually. Interim president.” The younger boy nods like he’s impressed. 

“Shit, the’s cool as fuck.” You quickly rip the protective aid last minute, which causes Riki to hiss and put his attention on his arm. “Ouch.” 

“Did you dye your hair?” you ask him with a saccharine sweet smile, ignoring the way he’s rubbing around his minor wound. You push your head a little closer to see his blonde hair just a bit lighter than it was the last time you saw him.”

“Yup. Got it dyed yesterday. Why, you like it?” 

“It looks so bleached.”

“It’s hair dye, Doc. My hair’s jet black, so of course it’s gonna look a little bleached." 

“You should dye your hair dark brown next. Give yourself a break from the bright colors or else all your hair’s gonna fall out.” 

Riki whines. “Aren’t you supposed to be my doctor and all sympathetic, and shit? Here I am, visiting this precious clinic again, and I’m being bullied by a healthcare professional who’s supposed to make me feel better.” 

“You wouldn’t be coming here so often if you stopped getting yourself hurt.” 

“It’s not on purpose.” 

“You wouldn’t be coming so often if Sunoo wasn’t working here.”

Riki shuts his mouth at that. It makes you laugh, the kind of laughter reserved for only the most ridiculous of conversations, and you temporarily forget that Sunghoon is in the room. You probably should’ve acted differently and stopped yourself from pulling the gauze from Riki’s wrist so hastily, but you couldn’t stand listening to him praise Sunghoon. You don’t glance at him. For how much you despise being around him, your performance is for Hayoon, and the money she could get from Sunghoon’s company could be life changing in the long run. 

“...Is Sunoo working today?” 

“You missed him by a day,” you tell him. Riki sulks and you watch the way his shoulders visibly drop. Sunghoon looks and you can tell he’s got a few questions circling in his mind. “I think it’s cute that you like him so much, but you don’t need to hurt yourself to make up an excuse to see him.” 

He stutters while he denies what you say. “You’re crazy, Doc. I’m prone to accidents and I’m super clumsy.” Riki looks at Sunghoon helplessly. “Wouldn’t you do crazy things for people you love?” 

“You love this Sunoo guy, huh?” 

“L-Love?! Aish. I guess I like Sunoo. He’s quirky. Kind of annoying, too.” 

You pat the cut with some cleaner.  “I’ll tell him you said that.” 

“Not annoying, annoying. He’s just…hard to get. He keeps me on my toes. I like that about him.” 

Sunghoon uncrosses his arm and leans on the desk behind him. “How’d you meet this Sunoo guy anyway?” 

A barely detectable smile appears on Riki’s face. “My brother, Heeseung, works at the game store a block away during the summer when he’s home from college. I visit him and keep him company when business is slow or whenever I’m not working. Sunoo used to come in a couple of times a week because the store sold manga and magazines, too. We started making small talk when we’d see each other and I found out that he works at the clinic.”

“So you purposely injure yourself as an excuse to visit Sunoo at work?” 

“No,” Riki says, even though the three of you know he’s clearly lying. “I’m accident prone.” 

“Sure, whatever you say,” Sunghoon responds with a knowing smile of his own. You wish you could knock it off of him.

“Does everyone believe this? What about Jake?” Riki asks. 

You laugh and put a band aid over the wound. “Oh yeah. Jake knows and he thinks it’s hilarious. Sunoo does too and he won’t admit that he thinks you’re cute, but he definitely does.” 

Riki whines and pushes his face into your arm. “Don’t get my hopes up. I’m fragile, Doc. Handle with care, or however the saying goes.”

“Why don’t you leave the medical talk to me, hm? Your wound is fine. Replace the bandage throughout the day if you plan on being out in the sun for a long period of time and disinfect it before you do. You should be fine by tomorrow morning. Don’t injure yourself anymore, okay? Just ask Sunoo out.” 

“You make it sound so simple.” 

“I work with him three days a week, Riki. I think I know how he feels just a little better than you do.” Riki rolls his eyes as he dives in for a hug, circling his arms around your waist. 

“I hate when you’re right,” he mutters against your side. “You remind me too much of Heeseung.” 

“Well, someone has to pick up his slack. You’re a wild child when he goes back to Seoul.”

Riki speaks with no real bite in his words. “I always wanted a sister, but now I’m starting to rethink that.” He stands from the medical table and opts to bow to you and Sunghoon, no doubt trying to make a good impression to the clinic’s potential investor. It’s a bit awkward, as you’ve told Riki to skip formalities with you, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless. 

“Keep it simple and don’t overthink it,” you advise Riki as you walk him back towards the front of the building. “Sunoo cares about you more than you think. Take him out for a picnic and watch the ducks at the pond near the draw bridge. He’d love that.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’m never wrong, aren’t I?” 

Riki laughs. “No, you really aren’t. Thanks for the advice and for patching me up.” He looks at Sunghoon and bows his head again before heading out. “It was nice meeting you. This clinic’s really something, you know. I hope you’re able to help them out.” 

You and Sunghoon watch him disappear from the parking lot when he speaks for the first time since leaving the exam room. “Riki seems to trust you a lot.” 

“He’s like a brother to me. He always gets into stupid accidents, but he’s a good kid.”

“He reminds me of Jungwon.” Your head snaps to Sunghoon. 

“Don’t say his name.” 

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, Sunghoon looks apologetic.  

You realize there’s no point in pretending like the two of you are strangers when all he does is remind you of the past. There’s no use bringing personal feelings into work today because you’re going to be stuck with him for a few more hours. After all, you’re the one who’s making a first impression on him. You represent the clinic and all of its glory. Even though you’d rather be anywhere but next to Sunghoon, you don’t want to jeopardize a business opportunity for Hayoon. She means so much to you and you couldn’t live with yourself if you screwed things up for her. 

You pull him by the wrist into an empty exam room without a word. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Sunghoon seems surprised by your sudden apology. “I don’t know why you’re here or why I’m being assigned to show you around, so let’s start over and make peace for the morning, okay? We don’t need to make small talk about the past. Let’s focus on our work since that’s what you’re here for.” 

“I really do want to help this clinic out,” he says. “I wanted to write a check but Hayoon was the one who insisted I experience it for myself. I swear I didn’t ask Hayoon to assign you to work with me.” 

Quite frankly, you have too many questions you’d like to ask, but none of them seem like they’d be worth your time. “It’s fine. Let’s keep our heads down and work together. I love this clinic more than anything in the world and I don’t want you to think otherwise because of our history.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I would never. Please believe me. I’m trying to initiate a new sector to my company and help communities around us as a way to give back. That’s why I’m here today.” You don’t know if you believe him, but anybody could’ve given up the second a potential client refused a check right off the bat. Sunghoon seems truthful enough. Even if he’s not, you don’t have the time to think about it. 

Jake arrives at ten o’clock to cover a partial shift for somebody who called out sick but you don’t notice him like you usually would because you’re too busy trying to ignore Sunghoon. It’s hard to push down your feelings when they’ve resurfaced. It irritates you to see people fawning over Sunghoon like he’s some sort of deity, but you bite your tongue to avoid changing his mind about helping out the clinic. His charisma puts you right back to where you were three years ago and you start to ask yourself what you ever saw in him. Sunghoon’s charm and perfect smile make you want to rip your hair out. They don’t make you want to act like a school girl anymore. 

“Good morning!” Jake shouts to you when he’s finished assessing a patient. “Hayoon called me last minute. I’ll be here until closing.” He sees Sunghoon standing next to you and the twinge in his eye makes you think she hadn’t told him he’d be coming in today. He reluctantly bows. “I’m Jake.” 

“Sunghoon.” He reciprocates Jake’s bow, unaware that the latter knows about your marriage to him and how it ended. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Jake glances at you as you offer up an explanation. “He’s shadowing me this morning on Hayoon’s orders. He’ll be here until my lunch break.”

“Welcome to Ganghwa,” Jake says with a tight smile. Sunghoon beams at him and doesn’t catch the slight disdain on his face. Nowadays, he has a much better poker face than you. 

“Thank you, Jake. I haven’t spent much time here, but your town is very beautiful. I’m looking forward to getting acquainted with Ganghwa as I spend more time here.” Sunghoon’s rehearsed speech nearly makes you gag. 

The rest of the morning runs without a hitch. Sunghoon, true to his word, refrains from bringing up any mention of your past. You’re grateful that he keeps your life under wraps. Some of the townspeople likely know who you are and who your parents are, even though most choose to avoid tabloids and gossip blogs, but they’ve never brought it up so you don’t feel the need to either. And you hate that you feel grateful towards Sunghoon. It makes you feel indebted, and you don’t like owing people things, least of all your ex-husband. 

Hayoon comes back when it’s time to see Sunghoon off. It’s all a blur. She and Sunghoon talk in the back room while you’re finishing your rounds before you’re due for a lunch break. You move on autopilot, plastering a smile on your face and updating patient charts to fill the time and avoid running into Sunghoon on his way out. You aren’t so lucky, as Hayoon and Sunghoon walk towards you as she accompanies him to the exit. 

“Thank you again for visiting. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” 

“I’ve got a couple of things I’ve been told to check out while I’m in Ganghwa.”

“It’s best to see where your money’s going before you give it all away, eh?” Hayoon asks rhetorically in the same way she’d talk to you when you’re too hot headed. “Feel free to come back to the clinic. And do spend more time in this gorgeous town.” She points to you. “Maybe she can show you around.” 

Sunghoon just smiles at her. “I’ll be sure to stick around.” He looks at you one more time and leaves soon after.

“How was it?” Hayoon asks when Sunghoon is out of earshot. “He didn’t get in the way, did he?”

“No,” you answer truthfully, even though it pains you to admit it. “Sunghoon was fine and polite. I’m pretty sure our patients were very charmed by him.”

“With a face like that, who wouldn’t be.” 

“I’ll be taking my lunch now, if that’s okay.” 

“Sure thing, honey. Let’s talk about this in depth tomorrow. I’ve got a speaking opportunity at Seoul General in a few hours that I need to prepare for.”

“Break a leg.” 

“Well, let’s not hope for that.”

You laugh. “It’s a saying. It means ‘good luck.’”

“Ah,” Hayoon says thoughtfully. “In that case, I will break my leg.” You think she’s about to leave, but she turns around at the last minute and gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher. “Things might be difficult now, but you’re a tough kid. I’m proud of the work you do and I’m looking forward to handing my keys to you.” 

“Now you’re just kissing my ass.” 

She laughs. “That too. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. But I want you to show Sunghoon around Ganghwa. Wine and dine him. Part of this business is, well, business. Unfortunately, running this clinic doesn’t always look like taking care of patients. It’s meetings, meetings, and more meetings.”

You agree reluctantly. “It’s all for the best.” She nods.

“That’s right. I know this place is your dream and I’m trying to build you up for success. I won’t tell you how to run the clinic when it’s time, but I’m still here to teach you a thing or two.” 

Hayoon says goodbye to you and the rest of the staff before she leaves. You tell the doctor in charge that you’ll be away for an hour before clocking out and relaxing on the bean bag chair in the corner of the back room. Jake walks in a few minutes later when he’s sent on his first break and you brace yourself for impact.

“That was Sunghoon.” You hum and nod. “As in, your ex-husband, Sunghoon.” 

“I’m aware.” 

Jake puts his hand on his hips. “I never thought I’d come close enough to punch his stupidly perfect face. You think I could take him in a fight and win?”

“Not a chance,” you say absentmindedly, pulling out a few grapes from your bag. “Have you seen his biceps? He’d crush you. I like you too much to see you hurt.” 

“I’m strong. I go to the gym four days a week. Don’t underestimate me.” He curls his arm to show off biceps covered by his scrubs. It pulls a laugh out of you and Jake smiles triumphantly. “How long is he gonna stay here anyway? Is he coming back to the clinic?”

“Why? Eager to start a fist fight in the parking lot?”

“You say the word and I’ll fight him.” 

“Don’t risk your career for me, Sim.” You roll your eyes and Jake brings a chair next to your bean bag. “To answer your question, I don’t know. Hayoon wants me to show him around. She says it takes more than being good at medicine to run a business like this. There’s politics involved and I get the feeling she wants me to butter him up.”

“That makes no sense, though. Sunghoon already wants to write her a check.” 

“I guess she figures he could be a test run for me to see what it’ll be like when I’m the one running the clinic. I don’t really know. I haven’t had the chance to properly talk to Hayoon yet, but you know how she is. She’s scatter-brained and all over the place, but everything always works out in the end.” 

“She reminds me of my mom,” Jake says with a fond smile. “I’ve learned to do as they say and question everything later. They’re always two steps ahead of everybody else, even if it doesn’t seem like it at first. Hayoon’s pretty unconventional like that, but I trust her. I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t.” 

“I like that she gives us experience while we’re studying. Some of my classmates don’t know half the shit I’ve learned on the job.” 

He agrees. “Yeah. I can’t complain too much, even when your jerk of an ex-husband looks at me like we could be friends. No way in hell.” 

You pat him on the arm. “I appreciate your loyalty, Sim.” 

“I know where my loyalties lie and I’m only playing nice just because he could give us life-changing money.” 

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’m trying to do the same thing, but it’s so hard when he’s breathing down my neck.”

Jake looks at you sympathetically. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. It sucks. How was your morning before I came?”

“Awful.” You put your head in your knees and Jake’s palm comes to rub your back gently. His warmth provides a bit of comfort and you feel yourself start to relax. “I didn’t even know Sunghoon was coming today. Hayoon sprung this on me when I got here and I’ve been trying not to have a panic attack for the last four hours. He reminds me of everything I’ve run from.” 

“It’s hard to outrun the past.” 

“Fucking tell me about it. He waltzes in here like he’s some hotshot who has a lot of money to throw around. He charms our patients, people I see and treat on the daily, and acts like they’re people he cares about. Sunghoon doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some ulterior motive.

“I just…I can’t go back to the person I was before we met, Jake. I was sad and depressed. I woke up every morning wanting to die because everybody expected me to support him without a second thought. My life revolved around him and I was supposed to be an obedient wife, but I fucked it all up and moved here to get away from all of that. Everyone gives a shit when it’s too late. I’m happy in Ganghwa and I don’t want my life to change. I’m scared that Sunghoon coming back to my life will put me back in that awful mental state.” 

Jake looks at you sympathetically. “You know, back when we first met, I always thought you were hiding more than what you were telling me. I never wanted to force you to talk about yourself since we didn’t know each other very well. You told me some things about running away from the past and made it seem like people were out to get you. I understand it now and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t do anything back then.” 

You pull your head from your knees. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Jake offers a warm smile.

“I know. But Sunghoon probably won’t apologize for what he did to you, so I hope you can accept mine.” 

“Ugh. You’re a great friend and I’m not good at feelings.” 

Jake laughs. “I know. You’re very cute when you’re trying to show gratitude.” This makes you frown, but he continues to smile. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through. But take it one day at a time, yeah? You know I’ll always be there for you and I know you care about me too. I don’t want to see my best friend upset by herself.” 

“Are you ready to see me on your doorstep at two in the morning?” 

He rolls his eyes. “You act like you’ve never done that before.”

“Okay, fair. But I like to ask for consent so I can use my words against you.” 

“There’s my girl.” Jake pats your back once more. “I need to go back to work. I’ll see you out there.”

Nightfall comes quickly. You push Sunghoon to the back of your mind to the best of your ability and the rest of your shift goes by without any hiccup. You’re mentally planning out the rest of your week between classes and work when you see Jake resting against the threshold of the door frame so that he can drive you home since it’s already dark outside. Jake doesn’t say anything when you finally sling your bag over your shoulder and walk out with him. He walks beside you like he always does and the both of you say goodbye to the attending resident before heading out to the parking lot. Your body feels like it’s supporting the weight of the world, but you know that thinking over the events of today will have to wait until after you study when you get home. Today’s the only day out of the week you worked a full shift, and because you spent yesterday at a bar with Jake instead of studying, today’s workload will be a heavy one. 

The last person you want to see before you leave is Sunghoon. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Sunghoon leans on his sleek black Supra, the same one he drove when you were married to him. He uncrosses his arms when he sees you and Jake approach him, not knowing that Jake’s car is parked just a little further down the lot. You watch him step away from his car and take a step towards you and feel yourself pull yourself back until Jake’s chest is right behind you. 

“I want to talk to you–”

“Why?” Sunghoon flinches when he hears our clipped tone. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“I want to apologize–”

“For what?” You feel your face starting to heat up. You take a step with each word spoken and tighten your grip around your shoulder bag, “For showing up here unannounced? For having the audacity to act like you know me when you don’t? Is that why you’re sorry?” He says your name but it falls on deaf ears. “Don’t say my fucking name.”

“I want to apologize for everything,” Sunghoon says like a kicked puppy with its tail tucked between its legs.

“You have some nerve to come here and act like I won’t throw your bullshit back in your face. You’re not sorry. You just hate that I don’t give a shit about you anymore.” 

“That’s not true. Please, if you just–”

“You’re asking more of me?” 

Sunghoon hears the venom in your voice and stops walking towards you, especially when he sees Jake grab your arm to pull you closer towards him. Sunghoon merely stands there looking somewhere in between defeated and determined, and you aren’t sure what he’s going to do next. All you know is that you’re angry beyond compare and there’s nothing you want to do more than to rip out Sunghoon’s tongue and feed it back to him. 

“No, I could never ask more of you.” 

“Fuck off, Sunghoon. Out of all places, why’d you choose the one place that belongs to me?” He stops himself from calling your name and looks at the ground before looking back up at you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t do shit now, does it? You waited three years to come find me when I’ve finally moved on, and for what? So you can feel like a good person? To get rid of whatever guilt you’re feeling? Are you saying ‘sorry’ so you can feel better about yourself?”

“No, I–”

“I devoted myself to you. I worshipped the ground you walked on and you threw me away like I was nothing.” Your body shakes. Jake feels your tremors when you walk up to Sunghoon until you’re mere inches away from him. You’re loud and out of breath. The pent up frustration and sadness come bursting out all at once. All of your hurt and the memories of your past play through your mind simultaneously like a sick and twisted film reel that reminds you of all the times Sunghoon made you feel worthless. It’s enough to make you scream at the top of your lungs and he stares at you with regret and longing that you no longer care for.

“Fuck you and fuck Chloe. Fuck your company. Fuck your family. You never gave two shits about whether I lived or died because you knew I’d be there for you even when you didn’t deserve me. You never showed up for me when it mattered the most. You just cared about getting your dick wet and making sure everybody thought you were the perfect husband when you weren’t. I might as well have married a fucking statue. I don’t owe you shit and I will never forgive you for what you put me through.”

“Please,” Sunghoon croaks with tears welling in his eyes. “Please believe me.” 

“I hate you.” 

The gentle breeze does nothing to cool you down. Jake gently tugs you away from Sunghoon, who can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. Knowing he’s looking at you makes your skin burn and bile feels like it’s climbing up your throat. Anxiety pounds away at your chest like a repetitive drum beat that refuses to stop and the world around you is too loud for you to think straight. Relying on Jake has become second nature and the familiar feeling of his hands guiding you away from danger puts you right back to where you were when you left Sunghoon behind. 

“Let’s go home,” Jake murmurs from behind you. You don’t spare Sunghoon a glance and get into Jake’s passenger seat. 

He lets you cry on the way home.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

FEBRUARY 2019

“Happy birthday, Yang Jangwon!” 

The banquet hall is much too formal for your younger brother's liking, but he knows there’s nothing that can be done when his mother is set on accomplishing something. Elaborate celebrations are her way of indirectly showcasing her wealth disguised as love for her children to her peers. She masquerades as a loving, doting mother who acts because she loves you deeply, but you and Jungwon both know she does it to boast about her opulence. Whether other people within her social group see this or not is practically unknown to the both of you. They’re just like her, too, always bragging about fiscal success or culture gossip before it hits the main headlines. Most women in this small society pretend to be friendly when in actuality, they’re all birds of prey waiting to unleash their sharp talons on the next person to slip up. 

The crowd cheers by clapping and tapping their utensils against champagne flutes when he finishes his speech. He smiles and maintains a perfect composure as he takes a single sip, hoisting the glass in the air and bowing before he walks off the makeshift stage. Judging by the look on his face, he’d much rather be drinking soju and cold, shitty beer with people he actually likes instead of playing the role of a perfect son for people he doesn’t care about. Your mother has a knack for keeping up appearances and she wholly disapproves of his friendship with “lesser-known status individuals” he met during his time in university. Jungwon prefers them over the peers he only sees during the holidays and other important events because they too are following in the footsteps of their overcompensating, snobby parents. Because the two of you always had this in common, it’s become the reason why the both of you get along so well. 

“I could’ve been doing a keg stand by now,” Jungwon laments as he walks to the table you’re learning against. He drinks the rest of the champagne in one gulp. 

“You’ll be doing that next week when our parents are in France.”

Jungwon smiles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m a college student. I deserve to have a normal life too, you know? Mom makes it so hard for me to be happy when she throws these things.”

“Tell me about it,” you reply with an exasperated sigh like you’ve just recalled what your own birthday felt like the year before. “I don’t think a single person in here really cares about celebrating your birthday.”

Jungwon swats your shoulder and feigns a broken heart. “Ouch. And here I thought you were the only person who’d support me. My dear, loving, older sister, who vowed to love and cherish me until the very end.”

“I never said I’d do any of that, dimwit. And who are you calling old?!”

Your younger brother laughs and gives you a hug. “I’m really happy that you’re here. I remember when we were small enough to fit underneath the tables and stuff our faces with hors d'oeuvres. The parties always seemed to go by so far.” 

“Me too, Wonnie.” You let your head rest against his shoulder. He’s so tall now, unlike the young boy who used to climb into your bed when a loud thunderbolt races through the sky. Now, Jungwon can rest his head on top of yours with ease. You realize how much time has passed and how much things have changed. “I don’t think anybody in this room even knew today was your birthday. Everyone’s just a kiss ass.” 

“I can’t look these people in the eye without wanting to gag. Everyone is probably drunk off of their asses anyway. I wish I could do the same.”

“Mom and dad are always the first to leave whenever they host. Maybe the open bar will supply you with two shots at a time.”

Jungwon groans when he imagines all the free alcohol. “Please. I’ll need to be drunk as fuck to talk to these people without laughing in their faces. Where’s Sunghoon, by the way? And don’t tell me he’s with her.” 

Where your husband might be is unbeknownst to you. Jungwon’s birthday and this party has been on his personal and work calendars since your mother told you about it ahead of time. The two of you have discussed arriving together to avoid having people asking questions, but Sunghoon never came home after he said he’d been out searching for a last minute present since he had forgotten to procure one ahead of time. After waiting for thirty minutes and being met with his voicemail along with your unanswered texts, your driver picked you up without your husband in sight. 

Back when Sunghoon had first asked you to marry him, the shimmering hope that you’d always held in the back of your mind made his words and intentions flow in one ear and out the other. Sunghoon was always truthful from the start and never once made you believe that this transaction was anything but a marriage for show. Somehow, your mind thought about the possibility of convincing Sunghoon he was right to ask you if you worked hard enough to be a perfect wife for him. Surely your best friend would wake up and realize the woman he’d been dreaming of was already standing next to him. 

You’d been fooling yourself by believing life could go back to normal after minimal contact. Your university years were nearly behind you when Sunghoon came back into your life and brought you into his fold like it was nothing. The version of you from the last two years believes you were an easy choice because the two of you were familiar and would eventually grow into your marriage vows. You’d stuck by him through thick and thin throughout the entirety of your friendship. It felt like a no-brainer to help Sunghoon when he asked. That’s what friends are for, right?

Except, Sunghoon lived up to his word. You knew this relationship was purely to save face for his parents and to fulfill their requirement of having a family before they’d consider training him to take over his father’s role as president of the company. Even if the result wasn’t what you’d hoped for, there was a part of you who believed that close proximity and spending time with one another would restore the friendship you had with him all those years ago. 

Instead, your marriage to him was nonexistent beyond the scope of the press. You two were more like roommates who operated on different schedules rather than a unit who worked together to keep the house afloat. He’d made it clear that this was just for formality’s sake and to avoid people wondering why neither of you lived together. Sunghoon made a point to off-handedly tell you that this marriage was for show and that you could see other people if you really wanted to as long as nobody found out. His insinuation chipped away at your heart and you’d swore you’d be devoted to Sunghoon until the very end, even if he made it clear that didn’t ask you to marry him out of love. The idea of Sunghoon finding somebody else when he’s married to you hadn’t crossed your mind because you never would have thought to look at anyone else but him.

Chloe Jung is somebody the two of you have known from childhood. She’s known Sunghoon longer than you’ve known him, as her parents have been friends since their university days. She’d split her time between Korea and America for a few months out of the year because of her parents’ work and travel schedules until eventually moving to America permanently when she was in high school. While you wouldn’t classify the two of you as friends, you’d argue that you two were friendly enough to hold a conversation if Sunghoon wasn’t there, but neither of you would reach out to the other if he wasn’t involved. She didn’t talk much to either of you when she moved and the only time the two of you would see glimpses of her life was through social media. 

As far as you knew, Chloe was still in America and living there permanently, but you found out that wasn’t the truth when you walked into your shared home to see his face between her legs in the guest bedroom. You don’t think either of them knew you’d stopped by the house. Your exit was swift and prompt, and you had shoved your tears down and promised yourself to wait until you were home and in your corner of the house to cry. He wasn’t cheating, not technically as the marriage agreement clearly stated that this was for legal and optics only, and yet the pain that tore your chest apart felt like it was never ending. So when Jungwon asks you where your husband is, your best assumption is with Chloe.

“I have no idea,” you tell Jungwon truthfully. Your eyes feel sunken in and you’d shed a few tears if you weren’t in public, do you drop your shoulders and give him a shrug as if to act nonchalant.

“Mind if I interrupt?” 

Park Jongseong, one of Jungwon’s friends, makes the two of you turn around at the sound of his voice. Your younger brother is beyond pleased to see him and skips the formal handshake for a familiar hug, to which he reciprocates. 

“Jay! I’m so glad you could make it. Sorry for inviting you at the last minute. I didn’t know you were back in Korea until your dad mentioned something to my mom the other week.”

“It’s not a problem at all. I transferred to the Seoul office this last week, actually. There was an opening at the firm and I managed to sweet talk my way into the gig.” 

“No shit,” Jungwon says with a big grin. “Glad to have you back! Man, these things are so fucking boring without you.”

“Let’s catch up for a drink sometime.” Jungwon smiles in kind and hears a group of people calling his name to open presents. He reluctantly excuses himself from the two of you to join them, apologizing before he disappears into the crowd.

Jay turns to you. He’s closer to Sunghoon than he is to you and out of everybody your husband has introduced you to, Jay is the one you’re not as close with. He’s been overseas for the duration of your marriage and has only visited a handful of times. Even then, your interactions have been short and polite. You don’t know that much about him, other than the basics and how Jungwon came to know him through your husband before he asked you to marry him. The two of you drifted on opposite ends of the social circle and have never been left alone until now. 

“Hey,” Jay says politely. “Long time no see. I think the last time was at your father’s birthday last summer. Sorry I couldn’t make it to Sunghoon’s.”

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you have more important things to do than come to these things.”

“I do,” Jay says with a laugh. “They’re always stuffy, aren’t they? Everyone’s a fraud nowadays.” Hearing him say that makes you feel better. You let out an airy laugh and grab two champagne flutes from the waiter passing by and hand one to Jay after thanking the staff. 

“You know my mom, right? She has a thing for throwing these big parties to show herself off. She and her assistant work night and day to make sure everything is perfect but it’s never about the celebration and always about how much effort she puts into them. I don’t think she’s capable of humble bragging even if she tried.”

Jay laughs and brings the flute up to his lips. “My mom’s the same. She lives in America though, so I have a lot of excuses to stay in Asia.” 

“You’re so lucky. Jungwon begged our mom not to throw an elaborate party but she did it anyway.” The two of you are fast to finish your drinks and opt to go to the bar and order something different. He orders a glass of bourbon and you order a glass of chilled white wine. The alcohol tastes like a breath of fresh air on your tongue, especially as it makes you feel like you can be happy throughout the misery you find yourself enduring. 

“You’re back in Korea, huh? I don’t think I remember when you moved away.”

“Before you and Sunghoon were married, I think. But I was there at the wedding. It was very nice. Super elegant.” 

You unexpectedly laugh out loud and cover your mouth when you realize what you've done. “Apolpogies. Yeah, the wedding was super nice. Both parents pitched it. Very…extravagent.” 

“Is extravagant not good?” 

“Not my style.” You sip on your wine again and force a smile on your face. 

“What would you have wanted instead?" 

Maybe it was the alcohol talking or because you’d known Jay to be a generally easygoing, well-mannered guy, but your flood gates open before you can stop anything from coming out. “Something small and quaint with loved ones who care about me. I’d probably invite my biology teacher from middle school and a neighbor we used to have before she moved to Japan. I’d hire a DJ instead of a band and the catering would’ve been different. I’d wear a different dress, probably.”

“That sounds more like a party than a wedding.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. “And what about it, Jongseong?” 

He smiles and shakes his head. “Sounds more fun than a stuffy wedding nobody wants to be at.” You smile back at him and let yourself be at ease. “I understand how you feel. Kind of. Can’t say moving to Korea was just for a work opportunity, but I’d rather not tell you when these people can hear. Would you want to find a bar and drink our sorrows away, maybe? I’ll pay.”

“I don’t know. I can’t just leave my brother to fend for himself.” But when you look around, Jungwon is nowhere to be found. You check your phone and see him text you about leaving undetected and that he’s sorry he couldn’t say a proper goodbye, but that he’d still come over for dinner the following week. “Well, Jungwon just ditched his own party, so I think we’re safe to ditch it too.”

The dive bar Jay introduces you to is nothing like the high-class cocktail bars you’re used to. The air smells like expired beer and cheap alcohol. There are two pool tables by the edge of the room and the bar table is sticky like it hasn’t been wiped down in a few hours. Behind it, the wall is lined with a bunch of empty beer bottles of various colors and sizes. Jay rests his elbows against the table and flags down the bartender, who seems to be familiar with him, and he tells you that this is the kind of place that holds a million stories far better than the ones you’ll ever hear at cocktail bars that cater to the rich and elite. You’re a bit envious that he was able to find such a place on his own. He’s kind enough to put your drink on his tab and keeps it open for now. 

The two of you find a shallow booth to settle into. It’s one of those U-shaped areas that lets you sit next to somebody without everybody sitting so close to each other. The leather seats have been worn in and it smells like a mixture of vodka and stale air. The dust permeates around you and you’re sure that if you squint, you’d be able to see its particles floating in the air in front of you. You’ve never been to a place like this. Not really. You’ve stepped into bars and restaurants that weren’t as high end as the ones your parents take you to, but they lack personality, unlike the dive bar Jay takes you to. The bartender didn’t seem to care that Park Jongseong had opened a tab, nor did he care that you were with him. If this were any other cocktail bar, a rumor or two would’ve been spread by now. An eyebrow would have been raised, at the very least. 

“This is one of my favorite places in all of Korea,” Jay says to break the silence. “Found it by accident during undergrad. Nobody gave a fuck about me here so I kept coming back.” 

The two of you begin to drink in peace. It’s not as awkward as you thought it would be. Jay has a knack for overtaking the conversation when others fall short and he doesn’t seem to mind being the soundtrack, as long as someone’s listening. 

“Might need to find a hideaway like this.”

“You can always come here without me, you know.” 

“Careful, Jay. I might make this bar my place of solace now.” 

Jay laughs earnestly and you watch his shoulders rise and fall with each huff of his chest. “I always did wish we were closer back when we were younger.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Jungwon talked about how much you hated high society. The two of you were always on the same wavelength when it came to this stuff. I was the only person he talked about this with. Except for you, of course.” His confession lingers and he looks down at his drink. “I don’t mean it in a weird way. It seemed like everybody our age was caught up in the media and outperforming everyone else. Me? Never cared for it. I don’t have any siblings so there wasn’t a need to compete for my parents’ attention. I watched everyone make fools of themselves. But never you.” 

“Wow, I never knew you felt that way. I can’t lie, though. It’s always nice knowing someone else hates this bullshit just as much as I do.” 

Jay chuckles. “We’ve all got our grievances. I just think the three of us are the only ones willing to look past the surface level.”

“We were always orbiting around each other, weren’t we?” You ask him as you reminisce about the past. “I remember being introduced to you when we were still in grade school. You were the total opposite of Sunghoon and I couldn’t fathom how you two got along. Jungwon said it’s because we’re both talkative and Sunghoon likes it when people can talk to him easily.” 

Nodding, Jay laughs again. “He used to say the same thing about you. Said you were always talking his ear off but that he didn’t mind it too much because you seemed passionate enough to tell him.” Your smile falters and you hope Jay doesn’t notice.

“I wonder why our parents never forced us to become friends like the rest of our peers.”

“They probably knew pairing us up would result in the end of their lifestyle. We’d probably talk everyone’s ear off about how disgustingly wealthy everybody is, ourselves included.” 

You take a sip of your wine and let the alcohol warm your face. “I’d probably throw jabs at people if I knew I had you to back me up. Jungwon and I could only say so much.” 

“Fuck, I’d grab a microphone and tell everyone to go fuck themselves and then throw that mic on the floor to be dramatic. I probably would’ve been kicked out of my parents’ will but it would’ve been worth it.” 

It’s easy to feel relaxed around Jay. It’s been a long time since you’ve confided in someone about how you’re feeling and what goes through your mind more often than not. Those who call themselves your friend are merely people met through circumstance. You hardly think any of them know when your birthday is. 

“All these expectations are weighing down on me,” you say as you start to loosen up. You don’t remember how much you had to drink at Jungwon’s birthday party. All you know is that the wine in your glass isn’t helping you sober up and that your words keep tumbling out of your mouth whether you want them to or not. Something about Jay is trustworthy enough, and you might be drunk, but you know that Jay is somebody your little brother admires a lot, so you don’t see the harm in talking to him. “I think about what my life would’ve been like if I had just stuck to my original path. I went to university for business and biology, you know. I wanted to become a doctor. But my parents want me to take over the company when my father officially retires. I could only minor in biology if I made my primary focus in business and accounting. I always got good grades and never strayed from my path. But I fucked it all up just before I graduated. Isn’t that something?” 

“I get what you mean, I think. Expectations from people who don’t really give a shit about us are bullshit, aren’t they? They want to look good in the eyes of society. I don’t believe for a second that people care about us. I can’t blame them either. We’re a bunch of stuck up, rich fucks who only care about our status.” 

“Why’d you suggest coming to the bar?” You ask him before you can really think about it. “Shit, sorry. Don’t mean to overstop. You don’t have to say anything.” 

“It’s cool,” Jay says and brushes your words off as if to convince you that there’s nothing you need to apologize for, “I’ve, uh, had some things weighing on my mind recently. I was gonna come to this bar anyway.” 

“You can talk to me about it.” You take Jay’s hand in yours and squeeze it but you don’t let your fingers linger for too long. 

“What do I have to lose, right?” Jay asks himself more than he asks you. “What were we talking about before? Ah. Expectations. I’ve been all over the place for the last few months. I don’t think I can believe my life has come down to making a choice to save the reputation of someone I care about or ruining her happiness just to preserve mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sooha. You remember her, right? She grew up in the same neighborhood as you but went to a different private school.”

“Of course. She always has those plushies clipped to her backpack way before it was considered cool.” 

“Yeah, that’s her. Sooha’s a friend of mine. Wouldn’t say we’re super close, but she’s someone I care about. She was real about shit, too. Hated aristocracy and this social class bullshit. As we know, Sooha moved to the States for high school and university but moved back to Korea because of someone she met in college, who ended up moving here for work once they both graduated. Her parents have been pressuring her to marry into a family to submit her status because she’s been gone for so long. Her family’s been hinting at this marriage if she wants to have access to the family trust and continue benefiting from them.”

“They’re going to cut her off if she doesn’t get married?” 

Jay wipes his face. “Apparently so. Anyway, her parents have been talking to mine for the better half of this year. They wanted me to move back to Korea and marry Sooha.” 

“What about the person she met in college? Are they still in Seoul?” 

The smile on his face is a sad one. “Sooha has a girlfriend. Suzi. She’s from Tokyo and her father has a relatively successful cargo shipping business in Japan. You can imagine why Sooha’s parents can never find out she would consider marrying anyone other than me.” 

“Shit, Jay.” Your jaw might as well be hanging off of its hinges with the way you’re unable to keep your mouth closed. “You agreed to marry Sooha to cover for her, didn’t you? I’m so sorry.”

Jay shrugs like there’s nothing he can do to change what’s happening. “It’s not like I have any other choice. My parents had started asking questions about settling down. But I’m young, I want to travel the world and do much more than get married to someone I’m not in love with.” His admission causes the smallest fracture in your heart. It’s barely noticeable, but you feel the significant weight that has been left on your chest. “I can’t stand to see Sooha so upset, though. This way, at least, she’ll be able to see Suzi without too much pressure. We’re engaged but it’s more like a cover up until we can figure something out.” 

“You’re either the dumbest person I know or you have a heart of pure gold, Park Jongseong.” 

“Maybe a little bit of both?”

You laugh at that. “Maybe. Does anyone else know about this?”

“Just Suzi. Everyone who needs to know has some role in this.”

“And me.” 

Jay smiles. “And you.” 

“It’s crazy that you’re willing to change your life for Sooha, though. Even crazier that her parents aren’t letting her be single now that she’s back home.” 

“I think part of her wish was to stay back in America, but I know how much she loves her girlfriend. It’s disgustingly cute like a Hallmark romance movie. Almost makes you wanna gag but you just can’t.”

“Sooha is incredibly lucky to have you.” 

“I try to see it that way. I feel like a narcissistic asshole when I do, but protecting someone from our shitty way of life means something to me.”

“How does this arrangement work? Like, do you guys live together?” 

“Her parents own a penthouse up by the InterContinental. Extremely spacious and enough to keep up appearances. She technically lives with me, but she spends more time at her girlfriend’s apartment than at ours. We only act like we’re engaged if we need to be seen together, otherwise we live pretty separate lives and don’t see each other all that much.”

“The fact that you’re willing to do all of this and sacrifice your own happiness is amazing, Jay. You’re so noble-like. You’re genuinely the most selfless person I have ever met.” Jay blushes under the dim lighting and tries to downplay his selflessness. 

“I wish I could believe anyone would do it.” 

“You know they wouldn’t.” 

Jay chuckles and finishes the rest of his drink as you finish the rest of yours. “I’m just trying to figure out how I want to live the rest of my life. It’s kind of hard to settle into this new role as the groom-to-be when all I think about is running away.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of a runaway groom,” you say to Jay to tease him. The jukebox in the back of the bar temporarily malfunctions as patrons are putting more coins in the machine. The laughter of drunk strangers makes you feel just a bit more settled and, for once, you feel like a normal girl catching up with an old friend. 

“Trust me, it’s tempting. But enough about me. How’s Sunghoon? I haven’t heard from him lately. Seems like there’s no time for any of us to catch up.” 

You smile at Jay, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sunghoon’s great. He just finished a big project under his father’s name and onboarded a very powerful client from Busan. I think he’s just stressed out.” 

“Is that why he didn’t come to Jungwon’s party?” You try not to let that question irritate you because it’s not Jay’s fault that he’s curious. Sunghoon’s absence is a loud testament to his loyalty to you and it’s nonexistent, that much you know. Having to smile and save face by telling the guests he was caught up in his work rolled off your tongue like it always does. But you don’t know how many more excuses you have left in you.

“Sunghoon’s been working nonstop lately so he’s resting,” you lie. It startles you just how willingly you say it. The embarrassment of having other people know this marriage isn’t real and just for show isn’t what brings you to your knees because you’re sure more couples were paired together this way. But unlike the rest of your peers, you’re in love with somebody who you legally call a husband, but he does not love you back. 

Jay looks down at the empty glasses. “Let’s take a break in this depressing shit. Take a few shots with me?”

“I hope you know that you’re responsible for getting us home,” you tell him as you stand from your seat and follow him to the bar. 

“I’ve got my driver on speed dial. Don’t you worry about a thing.” 

You learn that Jay’s wild in ways you never expected. He doesn’t hesitate when he drinks three shots of tequila in a row and you do the same, ignoring the feeling of the liquor burning down your throat with no chaser. You try not to think about it too much and find that you’re starting to let loose and really enjoy the company you’re with. Jay’s attentive in ways you’d never guess from him. He’s so considerate and kind for someone who grew up an only child and he understands the world far better than you ever pegged him for. Jay’s always been that kid in the background of birthday parties and everything that requires an audience. You don’t know why you never struck up a conversation with him or why Sunghoon hadn’t made more of an effort to get the two of you to become friends. You both get along just fine and there’s not a lull in conversation. In fact, Jay brings out the talkative person in you, even though it’s someone you’ve tried to bury for a long time. 

It feels so good to talk to him. The floodgates open and they can’t be closed. There is something so honest about Jay that makes you want to open up to him and spill all of your secrets. Jungwon has always described him as trustworthy and dependable, and you trust your little brother more than anyone else in the world. It’s no wonder they’re so close. You can see the way Jay beams at your compliments and how he thrives off of being understood as well. In a society filled with people who will backstab each other if that means getting what they want, Jay’s the kind of guy who will hold his tongue and condemn them behind closed doors. 

Three shots later, your current drink of choice is sitting haphazardly on a stool while the two of you throw darts at the dart board. Your aim is terrible, whether it be from the alcohol or generally terrible hand-eye coordination. Jay, on the other hand, throws darts like a pro. He doesn’t hit the bullseye, but he’s pretty damn close. 

“This is so not fair,” you whine. “You’re not drunk enough.” 

“I’m plenty drunk,” Jay laughs. “I think you’re just bad at aiming.”

“So not fair,” you mutter under your breath again, albeit not as seriously.

“You owe me a story, you know,” Jay says when he throws another dart. It lands just outside bullseye territory. “I just revealed a pretty big secret that I probably shouldn’t have told you “ 

Your cocktail settles in your stomach when you take a sip and throw a dart at the same time. It manages to land in one of the sectors just below the dart Jay had previously thrown, and that seems like a win in your book. “I’ll go secret for secret.” 

“You don’t have to,” Jay says, “I was just joking about wanting you to tell me something.”

“It’s about time I get this off of my chest.” You say it, although you don’t think you can properly think it through. But Jay is trustworthy, right? If not because of Jungwon’s friendship with him, than because he divulged his whole fake marriage to Sooha, which doesn’t even begin to touch the arranged aspect of their union. There’s a whole other layer added to their mess, one that you can unfortunately relate to. 

“You could tell me what you had for breakfast, for all I care.” 

“You don’t care about what I have to say?” 

Jay’s eyes look like they’re in some kind of panic. You can’t hold in your laughter for longer than a second, and you end up bursting into a fit of giggles before inevitably holding yourself up by gripping his shoulder. You’ve gathered that Jay is the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve and take everything at face value because he has no reason to believe otherwise. Despite having grown up in the same society as you, he seems like he’s always managed to listen to his heart instead of his brain. That’s what you like about him the most so far. 

“I’m just kidding, Jay. Don’t look so frightened." 

He scoffs, but hides a real smile. His shoulders relax and he throws another dart even though it’s supposed to be your turn. “You have a skill for giving people heart attacks.” 

“It’s my special talent." You’re drunk enough to disregard safety in every sense of the world. In this dive bar, the outside world doesn’t exist and your mind has made up such a lie that lets your guard down. “Sunghoon and I aren’t actually married.” 

“What?!” 

“Well, we are. Legally. But it’s just for the press and tax benefits. We don’t spend much time together unless we need to make an appearance. That sort of thing.” 

“You’ve been married for two years…” 

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can. “Yeah, it’s been this way ever since he asked me to marry him.”

“I guess it makes sense. The two of you were always super close. I can understand how you both ended up with each other.” You laugh like he’s telling a joke.

“You know the craziest part? I think he’s seeing another girl. I know he’s seeing another girl. Walked in on him eating her out and pretended I didn’t see anything.”

“That’s cheating, isn’t it?”

“Not when our marriage wasn’t real to begin with.” Your cocktail is gone by the time you finish your sentence. “We were best friends for a decade before he stopped talking to me completely. Then he came into my life and I was stupid enough to believe he actually cared about me. We’ve been in the public eye for a little over two years. Engaged for six months. My mom planned our wedding. There are photos online but I don’t look happy in a single one.” 

“You’re pretty good at faking a smile.” 

A genuine grin finds its way to your mouth. “Thank you. I take pride in how well I can compose myself.” 

“It’s a skill I wish I had.”

“Sunghoon’s probably screwing this girl as we speak. Couldn’t get ahold of him before Jungwon’s birthday. Pathetic, right?” 

The words coming out of your mouth feel foreign and unfamiliar against your tongue. For the majority of your life, you had nothing but sweet praises for Sunghoon and were the first person to give him the benefit of the doubt if he has made anyone upset. You were his ride or die and the girl who would stick up for him when nobody else would; you’d protect his introversion from his loud-mouthed family and risked being grounded by your parents for speaking harshly against those who insulted Sunghoon. Speaking ill about him brings out a nasty version of yourself, and you feel the slightest bit guilty for painting him in such a negative light. The alcohol tells you it’s okay to feel the way you do. It makes you feel like you’re justified and validated for being disappointed in him. 

At the beginning of your marriage to Sunghoon, perception was everything. You wore the perfect clothes with the perfect smile. Everything from living accommodations to vacation photos were immaculate, but only a handful of people knew each photograph was staged and rehearsed. You never did get used to the feeling of Sunghoon’s arm gently wrapped around your waist for photo opportunities because the moment the cameras turned away, he’d remove himself from your body like you burned him. 

It almost feels like you’re bad mouthing a friend. The guilt settles on the table and you’re positive you’re the only person who truly understands this type of torment. How could anyone have ever let you agree to this? Why hadn’t anyone tried to talk you out of marrying Sunghoon? You suspect everybody who knew about the nature of your marriage to him thought he’d fall in line and eventually fall in love with you too. It was never a secret as to how infatuated you were with him. Everyone knew you’d take the long way home if that meant walking Sunghoon to his house and spending extra time with him. You’d ditch piano lessons to get ice cream with him every other week. You had almost followed him to his dream university instead of choosing the one you had your heart set on. 

The words stumble right out of you. “It feels really weird saying this about him. I’ve spent my whole life chasing after Sunghoon and when I finally have him, I feel nothing.” 

“If I found out my wife was seeing another guy, I’d be pretty mad too.” 

“It’s not just about that. I always thought Sunghoon would be my forever, you know? He was so charming and effortlessly funny. I always thought he was a little corny in a sweet kind of way. We were glued to each other’s sides back then, but I couldn't tell you what changed. We had always been best friends and it didn’t matter if people had assumptions about us until high school. Sunghoon started pulling away and ditching me for his new friends. We stopped talking once we moved to university and he stopped answering all of my texts. We never really talked it out because he never wanted to.” 

“I never knew that,” Jay says apologetically. “I moved away at that point. I’m sorry, I always thought the two of you were close for all this time. Maybe it’s too out of place for me to say, but I was so happy when I heard the two of you were engaged. I thought it was about time. I guess not.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Everyone says that. Sunghoon hates it. I know because he puts his guard up. I know what his fake smile looks like and I know how he acts when he has to pretend to be somebody he’s not for the sake of keeping his family’s reputation. Our marriage was built on perception, not real love.” 

“And that’s what you want? True love?” Jay watches you groan and put your elbows on the table. You bury your face in your hands and feel how warm your cheeks have gotten. 

“I want to experience the kind of love that makes me feel like I’ve just burst into a million pieces. I want to feel butterflies in my stomach. It’s so stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Jay says from beside you. “It really isn’t. We all deserve to feel happy and it’s unfair that people put pressure on us to act a certain way just to gain approval. Wanting to fall in love isn’t a bad thing.”

“I would never wish this feeling upon my worst enemy. I always feel like my needs are never met while Sunghoon gets more than he asks for. I’m just the trophy wife who looks pretty smiling next to Korea’s next big thing. I’m nothing but a pair of tits.” 

Jay tries not to laugh, but a faint snort escapes him. He manages to pull you from your hands and pushes his last remaining shot to you and watches as it disappears inside your throat. “He sounds like an ass.”

“He is an ass.” 

“I’ll take your word for it. We aren’t as close now. I wish he’d be a decent husband, at least. You seem like a pretty devoted wife.” 

“Pfft. I’m just a pawn. I’m sick and tired of being treated like a toy instead of a person. I had a future too, you know. I threw it all away for him. Sunghoon couldn’t even show up to my brother’s fucking birthday party.” 

Jay winces. “Yeah, there’s no getting out of that one. I wonder how your parents will take it.” 

“I’m not bailing him out this time. He can get his dick wet with this other girl but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna clean up his messes anymore. Sunghoon can’t expect me to be loyal to him if he doesn’t reciprocate.” 

“Atta girl.” 

His words settle. You’re both far too wasted to be out in public and when Jay offers to give you a ride back to your house, you tell him you’d rather go anywhere but your marital home and he takes you to his place instead. It’s much more cozy than you would’ve pictured for him. The house is gargantuan but his interior decorations somehow make his home look warm and approachable with ambient lighting because he “hates the bright overhead lights” but never got them reinstalled, instead choosing to source different lamps from all over the place. His living room looks like a cozy backdrop. It has a large conversation pit with decorative pillows and an acoustic guitar by the edge. 

With your shoes off, you walk towards it. “That’s right. I totally forgot you could play.” 

“It’s been a while, though.” 

“Stop being so humble. You were amazing when we were kids. I’m sure muscle memory comes back when you play.” 

“Why don’t I fix us a drink and we can watch a movie or something.” 

Jay leaves you in the conversation pit. He pushes a button behind one of the pillows and you watch as a projector propels down from the ceiling. It’s at a perfect height for you to watch it like you’re in a movie theater. He laughs at your awe and grabs two shot glasses and brings over two bottles of soju.

“Ladies first,” Jay says as he offers up the first shot. It doesn’t take much convincing for you to swallow the liquid in one go. Jay takes a shot too. “To forgetting Sooha and Sunghoon.”

“He makes me think about all the things I’ve been missing out on, you know? I’ve been holding out for him for so long when I could’ve been doing literally anything else with my life. Maybe I could’ve moved to America and started a life there or developed a crush on some other guy who wouldn’t have treated me the way he did. My god! My life’s a walking mess. It’s a nightmare, Jay. I miss out on good company, good friends…good sex, even.”

“You haven’t had sex since before marrying Sunghoon?” Jay asks in complete confusion.

“I’ve never been one to sleep around,” you reply with a tinge of embarrassment over your face. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just can’t imagine a person going so long without sex.” You laugh at him and Jay takes another shot, wiping the corner of his mouth when a drop of soju falls. 

“I always thought it would be Sunghoon or nothing, you know? I thought he caught feelings for me too, way back when we were kids. I don’t know why I thought that. It wasn’t true, anyway. I ended up losing my virginity to some guy who couldn’t get me wet enough to stick it in the first time. It was awful, Jay. I feel like I’m cursed with a nonexistent sex life because I have to be the perfect wife and nobody knows that me and Sunghoon haven’t been intimate before.”

“I know.” Jay looks at you as he speaks. “And it must be hard being neglected, isn’t it?” 

A sound comes out from the back of your throat. You don’t know what it is or where it came from, but Jay seems to like it. And you hate that you feel the tension rise as the air shifts around the two of you because yes, you’ve been neglected throughout your entire life and you desperately crave for somebody to choose you with intent, not because of obligation. It isn’t just emotional neglect. He’s distant in a way that makes you feel like something is inherently wrong with your body, too. Sunghoon isn’t intimate with you. He doesn’t kiss you and he doesn’t touch you. The only time he’s put his lips on yours was during your wedding ceremony, and that was only for show. 

“Yes,” you say, as you can barely speak coherently. 

“It’s hard keeping secrets. You’re always thinking about everyone else instead of thinking about yourself. You need some attention too, don’t you think?” 

“Please.”   

Jay smiles. You don’t mean for your hand to touch his knee, but when you look down, you’re touching him. He doesn’t pull away from you or tell you to take your hand off of his body, though. In fact, you don’t even know what Jay’s thinking. He’s just looking at you with a lazy smile when your hand inches towards his lap and you can’t seem to stop yourself from putting your hand on him. 

It all happens so quickly. You don’t know who leans in first because your eyes are already closed. The next thing you know, you feel Jay’s soju-flavored lips settle against your own and you’re kissing him with such fervor that neither of you can think about the consequences a shared kiss could bring. He doesn’t pull you onto his lap. He doesn’t touch your body at all, in fact. Jay continues kissing you but sits still like he’s afraid to make a move and startle you, so you confidently find his hands with your own and allow his palms to rest on your hips. 

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” you admit to him quietly with your forehead resting against his. 

“You’re really missing out if you think that was good,” Jay says with his eyes glossy and focused on yours. He pushes forward and captures your lips in another kiss before he pulls away just barely. You can feel his breath on your mouth as he talks. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.” 

Your brain might as well be anywhere but in your head, but you don’t care. Jay’s resolve crumbles and his hands slide up your back until he’s gripping the back of your neck and pulling your body closer to him. Your mouths never stop moving against each other either. The movie plays quietly in the background but neither of you are paying much attention to the screen. Jay’s mouth is warm and inviting, and his tongue pushing up against yours makes you question why you’ve held yourself back for the sake of Sunghoon. 

His arm presses against your back and makes you arch into him like a cat stretching. You nearly lose your balance and grab onto his shoulders when your knees buckle on the couch and Jay doesn’t hesitate even for a second. His mouth moves down your jaw until he’s nipping at your neck like he’s trying to gauge your temperature, and when you tilt your head back and moan straight into the air, he pushes his teeth harder against your skin. He pushes your back until you’re flush against the couch cushions and you feel him digging into the side of your neck again.

“You sound incredible,” Jay praises from beneath you. He licks the area he’s just bitten in some sort of attempt to soothe your nerves. You can feel yourself shaking in his arms, especially when his warm breaths touch the shell of your ear. This kind of excitement ventures into unknown territory. It’s the kind of electric feeling you always thought you’d have with Sunghoon, but knowing Jay’s just as turned on as you keeps the illusion in tact. His hands touch the side of your leg, dipping his fingers underneath your dress to push it up to your upper thigh. It’s you who pushes his hand up your body and the warm air still allows goosebumps to form on your skin when you feel his fingers run over the lace of your panties. 

In fact, you find your arms encircling Jay’s neck and tug him back up to your lips. He obliges and removes himself from you to drag himself right back to your mouth, and his lips are close to being unforgiving. You can taste his spit and the soju on his tongue. He tastes like pure sin that you should stay away from, but that makes your body light up with excitement. You pull him closer to your body by gliding your leg up his body and Jay moans right into your mouth when he feels your desperation too. 

“This is cheating,” you mutter against him. Your body betrays you when your hips push off of the couch to meet Jay’s clothed lap. 

“No it’s not.” Jay’s hand grips at your naked thigh and he smiles into your shared kiss when you gasp for him. “You might be married and I might be engaged, but we both know it’s not real.”

Although Jay speaks the truth, the back of your head is reserved and unsure. The logical explanation is written in your shared premarital agreement in the event of a divorce and everything was laid out in the open from the very start. Your marriage to Sunghoon was always a means to an end. You’ve grown to despise the situation you find yourself in when everybody around you seems so happy while you aren’t. Sunghoon always gets his share of the bargain, but you’re left in the dust. 

Still, your body and your mind are at a dissonance. You’ve wrapped your legs around Jay’s waist and he cages you in his arms when you feel his hardening dick against your clothed core from where your dress has already ridden up your body from the constant friction between the two of you. Jay’s still fully clothed while you feel like you’re coming undone in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s not that sex is a completely unfamiliar territory for you. Rather, sex has always been transactional in the past. It might be considered that way with Jay, too, but you can sense that he wants you to feel just as good as you’re making him feel. You don’t think anybody has reacted to you like that. Jay is warm against your body and the combined friction ignites warmth that blooms in your chest. You’re growing wetter as the seconds tick by and he’s getting harder with every thrust of your hips. 

“I’m so drunk but I don’t care,” you moan against his mouth, pulling him closer to you. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Jay tells you like it’s something he could’ve told you in passing. His nonchalance turns you on because for the first time, you realize nothing needs to have labels. You can be an adult having fun with someone who wants to do it with you too. 

“Take a shot with me.” 

Jay pulls away from your body reluctantly and falls off of the couch to stand on his knees. He pulls the bottle and shot glasses closer and the two of you tilt your heads back and enjoy this shared moment. Jay pours you another drink and you’re about to ask him why he didn’t pour one for himself when he brings the rim up to your lips.

“Drink up.” 

It’s a simple command, but it sets your body aflame and you find yourself eager to do whatever he asks of you. Jay watches as you part your lips and tilt your head back just enough for the soju to pour into your mouth from the shot glass. He doesn’t force the liquid all at once. Jay maintains eye contact while you feel it hit your tongue and you struggle to swallow without choking on it from the intensity of his stare. It makes your panties incredibly wet and you don’t care that you might be leaking all over his floor. 

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Jay mutters to himself. He drags his eyes to look at your mouth glistening with the sweet alcohol. Jay leans down and steals a kiss from you as he sets the shot glass back down on the table beside you. 

“Jay.” 

“Sit back for me, pretty girl.” 

You do as you’re told and lay on the backrest when Jay stands in front of you. The movie he had put on is long forgotten as you stare at his stiffness concealed by his slacks. Jay’s more impressive than anybody you’ve ever been with and it’s evident in the way his pants have tightened a significant amount. You’re practically gobsmacked at how his dick is protruding in his lap and you’re just so eager to reach out and touch him, but you don’t. Instead, you take your dress off. Jay becomes mesmerized as your lace bra and panties come into his view. He can’t help staring at the way your tits fill each cup, nor the way your legs instinctively part to accommodate him standing between them. Jay breathes through his nostrils like he’s holding himself back to truly admire the view before he touches you. 

He unbuckles his slacks and pushes them down just enough for his boxers to come into view. The tight fit makes him look much bigger than before and a genuine shock of excitement shoots straight up your spine when you look at it. Your mouth waters and your pussy flutters at the same time. You don’t get much time to look at him, though, because he’s getting kneeling until he’s back on his knees, eye level with your covered cunt. There’s no doubt in your mind that he can see the darker, wet center. You don’t feel any ounce of shame. 

When he crawls back up your body, his mouth lands on your chest and he kisses your tits slowly. The way he strategically puts his mouth on you is antagonizing. You gather that Jay likes to be intentional with his movements and he’s more calculated than he is spontaneous. He litters kisses to your chest and collarbone despite your whines and ignores the way your hand has cupped the back of his head and tugged on his roots in an attempt to pull him closer to your mouth. I’m such a brat, you think to yourself. But it’s about time you stepped out of line. Two years of playing the role of a perfect, humble wife has taken more out of you than you previously knew. Maybe you can let go with Jay because there are no expectations here. You think he might feel the same way. 

His hot mouth reaches your jawline again and you’re practically mewling as you pull him closer to your chest by wrapping your arms and legs around his body. You keep him trapped between you like a spider stalking its prey and Jay is caught in the center of your ever-expanding web. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, because his hips rut against yours in a drunken haze to create friction in this position. Your mouths clash and it’s hot and wet, and everything about your bodies colliding feels natural and real. It’s the first time you’ve felt comfortable enough to let go and enjoy the present without worrying about the consequences in the future. 

Jay’s covered dick pressed against your own covered cunt in a way that pushes himself straight against you. It’s a feeling unlike no other and it makes you moan loudly into his mouth. “Pretty noises for a pretty girl. You sounds so fucking sexy right now.” 

“Y-You’re so big,” you stutter, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Yeah baby,” he grunts, thrusting his hips at a steady pace to grind against your panties. “I’m really big. You gonna let me make you feel good? Gonna let me be the first to make you come?” Your bioships buck at that. Jay’s teeth scrape alongside the skin of your jaw when you tilt your head back and moan towards the ceiling. “You like the sound of that, huh?” 

“You’re so good at this,” you tell him breathlessly. He laughs in your ear and lifts his hips before pushing most of his weight down onto you. Jay’s voice travels down your body until you’re practically meeting his dry thrusts with your own hips at a near-frantic pace.

“It’s like I said earlier. I can’t imagine my life without sex. Don’t know how you went years before letting somebody else touch you.” When you look up at him, he doesn’t look as though he’s trying to insinuate that you’ve been deprived by choice. Jay sounds almost pained on your behalf–how can someone go so long without being pleasured like this? And the thought of being involuntarily celibate is embarrassing when he’s staring at your chest with lust in his eyes. You’ve got experience, but Jay has enough passion to make you nervous and excited simultaneously. He pulls himself back and you whine at the loss of his body heat but he brushes his thumb against your clothes clit and watches you get used to the feeling. You’re incredibly wet at this point and there’s no use in trying to hide the way Jay’s making you feel. 

You wonder if Sunghoon talks to Chloe like this when they’re having sex. Is he as sultry as you imagined him to be? Does he whisper filthy, nasty things in her ear when his hands roam all over her body? You can only imagine what he looks like. You’ve spent years picturing Sunghoon hovering over your body the way Jay was, and pushing his lips against yours as he takes all of you without remorse. You’d always imagined him in your bedroom when he made himself unavailable. Maybe he’d sneak into your room and kiss you like he meant it. Would Sunghoon be as attentive as Jay is? 

His fingers dance across your covered pussy and he touches every part of you with his fingertips. Jay looks godly when he stares between your legs like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He moves his index finger over your clit and gulps when he feels how wet you’re becoming just from his hand. You don’t think you can accurately remember the last time anyone has ever spent more than a few minutes toying with you like this. It’s always over before you know it and pretending to be okay with not getting off was something you hated doing. You swore never to feel that way about sex again. Looking at Jay and knowing he wants to devour you whole keeps you interested. 

With his thumbs hooked on the fabric, Jay helps them slide down your thighs until they’re hanging off of his finger. “Do you always wear cute panties?” 

“Cute?” 

Jay chuckles and dangles them in front of your face. “Yeah, baby. So cute. I can’t believe a girl like you doesn’t have sex but wears panties like these. Nasty.” He sees the way you pulse beneath him and you see him lick his lips. He discards them to the side, somewhere on the far end of the conversation pit, probably. 

“You make me seem like such a loser, Jongseong.” 

He shakes his head and reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. Jay’s eerily good at this and you never would’ve thought to imagine the slightly introverted, awkward boy from your childhood is ridiculously good at getting you wet. You don’t even know where he’s tossed it. “You’re not a loser. It’s really hot that you’re letting me fuck you and talk you through it.”

“Why’s that?” 

“I know you won’t fuck just anyone,” Jay says as he bends down to lick one of your nipples. “You love Sunghoon too much to mess around with guys who won’t measure up. They’ll never make you come like I will.” 

“I don’t want to cheat on Sunghoon…”

He licks the other nipple and his mouth quirks when he feels it hardened on his tongue. Jay sits beside you and puts his hand on your naked sex, rubbing his fingers between your folds. “You’re not cheating on him, baby. Even if you were, he cheated first.” 

An indescribable pang hits your ribcage and bounces to the center of your chest. It’s unlike anything you have ever felt before. There’s a picture of shame, hurt, and yearning that overshadows feeling present and in the moment. Your mind flashes to Sunghoon’s aloof personality when he’s around you and how animated he seems to get when you’re nowhere near him. You watch from the sidelines as Sunghoon you know comes out with people who aren’t you. It always makes you feel insecure to know the person you love the most will not pretend to be happy with his childhood friend. Looking at Sunghoon is like waiting for a train that will never come. And you know this to be very true; deep down, you’ve always known Sunghoon would never truly love you the way you love him. This fear got pushed down and your infatuation for him became an overcompensating tactic to avoid being rejected by him. 

But still, you can’t deny how wet being humiliated like that makes you feel. 

“You hear me? Sunghoon doesn’t deserve your pussy,” Jay says, effectively bringing you back into the present. “He cheated, not you. He can keep fucking some girl but he’ll never see you like this.” You’re caught off guard when Jay slides his finger inside of you and you whine when he pushes deeper.

“Still feels like cheating.” 

“You wanna know what I think?” Jay asks rhetorically. “I think you like pretending you’re being unfaithful to Sunghoon. You want to take revenge on him and make him feel pathetic too, don’t you?” 

“Jay…”

“I think you want his heart to break when he finds out we’re fucking. Or do you want to know what he feels when he’s fucking other girls? Are you my little masochist?” It is unbelievable how wet you are. Jay speeds his thrusts and adds another finger when he sees you naturally spreading your legs for him. You’re barely able to talk when he’s plunging himself so deep into you with no remorse. 

Maybe part of you wants Sunghoon to feel threatened by Jay in the same way you feel threatened by Chloe. Thinking about him being utterly despondent brings some kind of glee. You’ve spent your whole life longing for Sunghoon and daydreaming about being his girlfriend. If only you could impose that burden on him and make him understand how the last few years have felt for you, only to top it off with the ultimate betrayal that is far worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. 

Another part of you wants to know why Sunghoon will never see you as a mere acquaintance. There was never an explanation as to why he started to pull away from you or why he stopped talking to you altogether. Sunghoon never made an effort to keep in touch during your university years and seeing him at social gatherings created enough tension to suffocate whatever room you found yourselves in. You don’t know how long he’s been seeing Chloe or why she’s interested in Sunghoon after all this time because as children, she’d be the one encouraging you to tell him about your romantic feelings towards him. Everything is so confusing when you think about it. Sunghoon is the biggest mystery in your life and marriage never fixed any problem the two of you had. How could he turn to another woman when you were right there? Why hadn’t he ever noticed you the way he notices other girls?  You want to know how it feels to betray someone you used to love. You need to understand what Sunghoon felt. 

“You’re such a slut and your husband doesn’t even know it.” Jay pulls his hand from you and steps away from the couch, leaving you naked and confused as you stare up at him. “I’ll be right back.” 

You watch him grab the near-empty soju buttles. He walks towards his kitchen when you see him quickly drink what’s left and throw them into the recycling bin. You aren’t sure where he’s going or why he left you high and dry until you watch him open his liquor cabinet and search for a bottle. Jay spots it pretty quickly and licks his lips as he walks back, his eyes darting between your naked sex and the bottle.

He kneels in front of you and opens it, pouring the liquid into one shot glass. “Did you know I’ve only opened this once? I bought it after I landed an important client. Took one shot then put it back in my cabinet.” He dips his finger inside of the glass and smears it over your clit. “I only said I’d take a shot if it was important. And fuck, with the way you’re looking at me?” 

He doesn’t need to finish his thought. All this time, you’ve been so selfish thinking about yourself and the situation you’re in with Sunghoon. You’ve been so selfish this entire night by drinking your sorrows and pushing them onto Jay when all he’s done is try to lend you a shoulder to cry on and a safe space to open up. In the time you’ve been in his apartment, and in the time his hands have been on your body, not once did you think he might be using you as an escape from his own arranged marriage. He spent the evening throwing darts and getting drunk for you. Jay, a relatively private man with a tight knit inner circle, invited you to his penthouse. He’s putting his hands on you and promises to give you something Sunghoon never will, even if it’s just for tonight. Realizing this makes you feel wanted. Chosen, even. You wonder if Jay feels the same way.

When he pushes your legs further apart and beckons you to slide down on the couch to present more of yourself to him, he pours a small amount of bourbon on your pussy. It isn’t ice cold like the soju from earlier, but it’s cool enough to make your hips jerk at the mere touch. He doesn’t waste any time and bends down to lick it up. Jay moans when his tongue glides over your wetness mixed with the liquor and the vibration makes your body buzz. You don’t know how he’s holding the shot glass steady while his mouth moves all over you. Jay must be some kind of sex god who’s mastered eating pussy if he’s able to be still enough to keep the alcohol from falling. He doesn’t immediately push himself between your folds like you think he will. Instead, Jay keeps a balanced rhythm of licking up your slit like he’s trying to clean every inch of you before pouring more bourbon straight onto your pussy. 

He puts the glass back down on the table somewhere behind him when the liquor’s gone. Jay’s hands grip your thighs when they start to close and force you to keep them somewhat open for him as his tongue plunges deep into you without warning. You grab onto the back of his head and tug at his hair, pushing your lap right into his face with a loud moan. It’s enough for his grip to tighten around you and lift your body before him like he’s a starving man who’s dead set on eating anything placed in front of him. 

“You’re so loud,” Jay comments from between your legs. You’re barely able to hear him because your thighs are suffocating him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re just as shocked as him to hear the kind of sounds you’re capable of making. No amount of forcing yourself to like strangers touching you nor touching yourself could ever get you to sound the way you do when you’re with Jay. 

He releases one hand from you and pries you legs apart once more to slot his hand against your wet sex, gliding his digits against your folds. The tip of his fingers nudge against your clit every time he moves his hands and your hips buck like you’re a mechanical bull trying to throw off your rider. 

“You’re so fucking desperate for it,” Jay says to you in disbelief. “Never knew you could get like this. I always thought you were so independent.” 

You can barely choke out a response. “I could say the same for you.” He grins wickedly and sticks two of his fingers into your hole. 

“I’m just private, baby. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

The more Jay pumps his hand against you, the more you wonder if this is what you’ve been missing out for so long. Swearing to stay celibate because other men could never live up to your standards has been for nothing now that Jay is making you feel things you’ve never felt before. It’s like you’re experiencing a new walk of life for the first time. Good sex is hard to come by. Incredible, mind-blowing sex is rare. You’ve always wondered how anybody could ever love hooking up if it always ended in disaster and being left unsatisfied. Now, you’re starting to think that this is definitely worth the wait. 

Everything is so warm. The sweat on your skin builds with anticipation as Jay licks you while his fingers thrust themselves in and out of your hole. You feel exposed when you realize that he’s still fully clothed while you’re completely naked before him, but you don’t feel shy. Everybody expects you to be put together and docile until being spoken to. You’re a mere toy in everybody’s eyes, the kind that can bend at every beck and will without complaint. But with Jay, you’re somebody who can think for herself for the very first time in a long while. There are no expectations in this room. There’s just pure, raw passion. 

You whine when Jay pulls his hand away from you but watch as it disappears underneath him when Jay shoves his tongue deep inside of you until his nose bumps your clit. You feel so emboldened with him so deep in your pussy that he refuses to get up until he’s nearly running out of oxygen. He moves his tongue inside of you and licks every inch of your walls when you see his lone shoulder move back and forth as he touches himself.

For a moment, you think about the first time you realized Sunghoon and Chloe were having an affair, if you could even call it that. It was early afternoon a mere two months ago when you came home before lunch because you had forgotten to bring a few documents for your afternoon meetings. It was supposed to be quick and seamless. They sat atop your desk in your home office, just past the guest bedroom, but the sound of a man and woman moaning stopped you in your tracks. 

You were able to make out Sunghoon and Chloe because the door was slightly open. It was enough to conceal where you stood, but even if the door had been wide open, you don’t think either of them would’ve noticed you standing at the threshold. Your husband’s face was stuck in between Chloe’s legs with him kneeling before her and her body on the guest bed. She was loud and her back was arching with her hand tightening its grip on Sunghoon’s hair when you heard the violently loud slurps coming from his mouth. His hands gripped her legs for dear life when your eyes locked onto his hips. Sunghoon used the side of the bed to rub his dick against his pants that were haphazardly pushed down just enough to feel the friction of rubbing his boxers against the bed. 

It was loud, messy, and frantic. Chloe reached her climax soon after and Sunghoon was still thrusting his dick against the bed, moaning deeply and right into her core. Your own heart shattered into a million pieces and it seemed like you were the only person who could hear it fall to the ground. Watching them felt like an invasion of privacy, but you wouldn’t look away. Your husband and childhood friend were hooking up underneath your roof. Betrayal hit you like a truck and it didn’t matter that Sunghoon had made it explicitly clear that his marriage to you was nothing short of convenient. It still hurt to realize the person you loved wanted absolutely nothing to do with you even after all you had done for him. 

You don’t know why this thought makes you come. Jay laps your orgasm up like a starved animal while you try to keep your legs open for him. The blinding, hot light is the first time any person has ever made you finish, and you’re too conflicted to focus on anything but finishing in his mouth. Maybe you’re built for shame and humiliation. You hate that you think of Sunghoon when you come. It’s not fair to Jay, whose knees are probably aching from the amount of time he’s spent on the carpet. 

“You taste so goddamn good,” Jay moans as he licks your folds to clean any remnants of your cum. “I like the idea of your cum tasting like bourbon. My favorite.” 

You don’t wait for Jay to sit up by the time you’re learning over to reach for the bottle. He stares at you and smirks when you take a swig of the liquor and wipe the stray droplets with the back of your hand. You finally turn to look at Jay and see how his lips glisten with your arousal and come as he wipes his chin dry while he sits back on the couch with his cock hanging out. His hair is damp and tousled from your grip on it. Even now does Jay look like walking sex. 

All of the alcohol in your system makes your adrenaline rush. He was right, his dick is big. Bigger than guys you’ve hooked up with in university and much bigger than you could’ve ever anticipated. Your cheeks might as well be warm to the touch with how much you’re blushing and Jay barely contains his entertained smirk. 

“Are you gonna just sit there and look?” He brings his hand around his cock, spits on himself, and slowly twists his wrist to spread it around. There’s something incredibly erotic about watching him jerk himself off with his watchband moving along with him. You merely sit back on your knees and look up at him before pulling his pants and boxers down with your hands while he takes his shirt off and throws it somewhere behind him. With both of your hands wrapped around him, he feels extremely warm to the touch and smells faintly of musk and sandalwood. It must be his cologne. It’s intoxicating and the scent has invaded your mind ever since you sat next to him in the dive bar.

Is Sunghoon as big as Jay? You can’t help but picture him in Jay’s place with his legs spread out as his dick stands tall and stiff in your hands. You try not to think about him as your thumb swipes over Jay’s slit, earning a short-lived grunt from the man in front of you. It’s been a while since you’ve felt completely in control like this. You don’t think you can recall a time when your choices were dictated by your own will and not the opinions of others. You’re done pretending like you aren’t hurting when your friends and family expect the world from you and give nothing in return. 

Jay’s tip is mildly salty from his precum and his deep moans give you the courage to continue. You don’t take him in all at once and ease your way down on him, inching your way as slowly as you can handle it. Jay doesn’t seem to mind. From above you, you can hear him breathing through his nose and struggling to keep himself composed by the feeling of your tongue rubbing the underside of his dick and your teeth gently scraping against his veins. He’s just big enough that he’s barely snug in your mouth and your spit gathers around the corners of your lips when you push yourself down on him another inch. 

“You’re so good at this.” He groans and caresses the back side of your head. His touch is a soft juxtaposition from the erotic scene before you. Jay’s palm moves from your hair to your cheek and he moves his thumb over your face as if to soothe you. “Let me feel my tip.” You maneuver his dick until it pokes at the inside of your cheek, allowing Jay’s thumb to gently touch your face and feel himself in your cheek as he rubs his cock head. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. “You look gorgeous with my dick in your little mouth.” 

The praise gets to you. It climbs into your chest and buries itself into the part of you that desperately craves to be acknowledged for all your hard work. Maybe it’s the liquid that’s given you the courage to feel invincible or maybe it’s something else. You don’t know and you don’t care at this point. Jay moans deeply when you push your head down onto his cock until the tip hits the back of your throat. You gag around him and let spit pool around your mouth and let it drip down as natural lubricant, swallowing around him and making Jay hold onto your hair in a ponytail for dear life. 

“I need to fuck you,” Jay swears from above you. “I swear I don’t usually need to cum this fast.” 

You pull yourself off of him and jerk his dick with your hand, spreading your spit until they drip down to his balls. You maintain eye contact with Jay as you bend your head down to lick it up until there are no more droplets and you swear you see Jay’s eyes roll to the back of his head. But you do as you’re told and stand, grabbing the bourbon and bringing it with you as you straddle his lap. His wet dick rests against your bare pussy when you bring the bottle to Jay’s lips and he looks at you as the liquid pours down his mouth while your eyes are concentrated on his mouth. You replace the bottle with your own lips, tasting the liquor that spills between the two of you and pushing your tongue against his.

When you sink yourself down on him, the room echoes a cacophony of moans from the two of you. The feeling is indescribable. His dick makes you feel full to the brim and the stretch reminds you of the pleasures sex used to bring you, back when you yearned to be touched like this. The glide is easy and smooth from your spit mixed with your arousal and his precum. Jay’s hands roam all over your body as his mouth nips at your chest, no doubt leaving bruises all over your skin. 

Everything goes by in a blur after his point because of your shared intoxication; Jay drills into your pussy from below when your knees start to give out and you come around him when he hits that perfect spot; he pulls your body off of his until your knees are on the couch with your cunt right in his face as he licks you like there’s no tomorrow and touches himself when he hears your wanton moans ringing in his ears, not caring if you’re overly sensitive at this point; Jay comes so deep inside of you with his mouth trailing your spine and neither of you seem to care that your mixed orgasm drips from where you two connect onto the plush of his couch and this shared inhibition makes you feel like this is a scene from an erotic movie, one that you’ve longed to be part of to satisfy your craving of wanting to feel seen and yearned after, and Jay comes for the second time all over your chest when right after you finish on him too. 

He fucks you in the shower under the guise of cleaning yourselves up and you both stumble on the way to his bathroom, which smells so much like his cologne. Your chest presses against the cold tiles and you both let the steam of the hot water run as you kneel in front of Jay to take him in your mouth again before he fucks your mouth after your throat has gotten used to him being lodged right in there. He fingers you to the point where you squirt all over his arm and hear him laugh and praise you for being such a good slut for his eyes only. Jay fucks you in the shower in between washing your hair and body until the two of you decide to dry off and finish fucking in his bed, which feels somewhere between intimate and casual all at once, and you don’t know whether the dizziness in your head is from the alcohol or facing the fact that hooking up with Jay is impulsive. 

When all is said and done, your hair’s wrapped in a towel with your body adorned in clothes he hasn’t worn in a while, and you hold a cigarette between your fingers with Jay on his balcony. It’s cold out here and you can see the twinkling stars from where you stand. Seoul from high above the ground looks more beautiful than it is up close. Sober, you break the silence. 

“Do you think we made a mistake?”

“I don’t think so. Do you think we made a mistake?” You bring the cigarette up to your lips, inhale, and blow the smoke into the air, shaking your head, albeit unsure.

“No, I don’t think we did.”

Jay nods once. “This doesn’t have to be weird.” 

“I didn’t think it would be.” 

“With our circumstances…”

“Best not to tell anyone.”

Jay nods again. “I don’t want you getting hurt. I can handle myself, but I’m not the married one.” You manage a dry laugh. 

“I don’t think Sunghoon would care, if that’s what you’re saying. But you’re right. No one else can know about this.” A brief minute of silence passes. “Is it wrong that I want to keep seeing you?” 

He smokes from his cigarette. “Is it bad that I want that too?”

“I think we’re in agreement with many things tonight.” Jay coughs a few times through his laughter. He wants to tease you for how many times the two of you came, but he refrains. 

“We’re two adults having fun. I don’t think either of us need to think too deeply about it. Whenever you want to quit, you let me know, alright? No hard feelings. You’re my friend too, and I care about you.”

“Same goes for you. I love Jungwon and I wouldn’t want you to stop being his friend because of me.” 

“You have little faith in me,” Jay says, knocking your shoulder with his like he’s trying to let you know he’s joking. “People need something to cope in this fucked up world we live in. We aren’t an exception.” 

Jay tells you it’s far too late for you to call your driver and that he’s not sober enough to take you back to your house. The two of you agree that it’s too awkward to share a bed to sleep, even if the last few hours were spent tangled up in one another. Jay promises to drive you back home the next morning and offers to make you breakfast before you leave. You can’t remember the last time Sunghoon offered to cook for you and the thought makes you spiral and think about all of the things Jay’s willing to do for you as a friend that your husband won’t. 

A little fun has never hurt anybody, right? 

***

You weren’t supposed to be awake this late, but none of you had been sleeping well since Yunjin’s body was found last week. It wasn’t just the way her throat was slit wide open and left to foam in the cold. It was the camera. The flash drive the cops found in her pocket. The way the files were titled with names. Names of your friends.

Your name.

The group chat—your unofficial survivor support circle—was the only thing that made it feel slightly okay to breathe. The blue glow of your phone screen was the only light in the room, curtains drawn tight, door double-locked, a knife resting next to your pillow like it belonged there.

The messages were flying in fast tonight. Beomgyu was spiraling again.

gyu 🐻: bro I’m telling u if we all die, it’s gonna be 1 by 1 like a fucking chain

yujin <3: shut up?? wtf??

yeonjun 🦊: he’s not wrong.

minji 😝: STOPPPP GUYS

gyu 🐻: what if it’s one of us fr

You didn’t reply. You just watched the little dots appear and vanish. Someone was always typing. Nobody knew what to say anymore. It had been 9 bodies in 5 weeks. No patterns. No mercy. Just violence. A few of them were barely friends, just people you’d met at parties, students from campus or people who followed you on Instagram. Others… they were real.

You remembered Chaeryeong’s voice when she called you the night before she died.

You remembered the static. The scream.

hoonie: beomgyu u say one more thing and I’m blocking you

hoonie: shut up and go to sleep

hoonie: all of you

His name made something in your chest unclench. You hadn’t realized how hard your fingers were pressing into your own thigh until they relaxed a little. Sunghoon always did that. Said exactly what needed to be said. Short. Cold. Right.

YOU: u okay

hoonie: yeah

YOU: idk. i feel weird

hoonie: did you eat

YOU: not rly

hoonie: go eat something. I’ll stay on text. don’t open the door for anyone

That was all. And still, you blinked a little slower after that. Exhaled through your nose. Got up to heat instant ramen with your phone balanced in one hand, screen lit with his last message. Everyone in the group chat was too loud, too paranoid, too messy. But not him.

Sunghoon never asked dumb questions like “are you scared?”

He knew you were scared. He was scared too.

You all were. You just said it differently.

You slurped noodles from the plastic cup like it was the first warm thing you’d had in days. Your head hurt. Your neck ached from curling into your blanket pile for too long. There was a deep itch of wrongness under your skin that hadn’t left since the second murder—Karina’s. She was strong. So strong. She bit her attacker so hard her nail was found in his flesh.

Still died. Your phone buzzed again.

minji 😝: guys

minji 😝 : someone’s calling me

minji 😝: not picking up. idk this number

Your stomach dropped.

yujin <3: block it

gyu 🐻: answer it and say “wrong number”

minji 😝: no are u dumb

minji 😝: I’m changing my number tmrw fr

hoonie: good

YOU: u okay tho??

minji 😝: yeah. heart’s racing but fine

The group fell quiet after that. No one really had the energy to keep pretending it was okay. You lay back down. You weren’t going to change your number. You just wouldn’t answer strange calls.

You stared at your lockscreen wallpaper for a long time. It was a selfie you and Sunghoon took at the start of the semester. At the arcade. You were laughing so hard your eyes were nearly closed. He was doing a peace sign with one hand, a half-eaten churro in the other. You’d called him a dork. He’d called you annoying.

And then he sent you home safely that night because someone had been following you after the station.

Your phone vibrated one last time.

hoonie: don’t disappear on me

hoonie: even if u change ur number

hoonie: okay?

You replied:

i won’t.

The thing was, he never needed to say much. He just said the right things. Always. And somewhere just outside your window, a shadow moved.

_________

The rain had started again. Not the kind that cooled things down or made you want to sleep. This was the jittery kind—needle-thin drops against your window that didn’t let you forget for one second that you were alone. That something was out there.

The group chat was dead silent now. Maybe they’d all fallen asleep. Maybe they were pretending. Maybe they were already—

You turned off your thoughts like a switch. You had to. The minute you started thinking about them—about Yunjin’s hands, cold and folded across her stomach like she was laid out for a funeral, about Yeji’s shoes left neatly by her own front door, like she never expected not to return—you would stop functioning.

So you didn’t think.

You cleaned the kitchen again. Rearranged the snack drawer. Lined up your phone chargers by color. Took your fifth shower of the day. And every time you stepped out of a room, you locked the door behind you.

You’d just gotten into bed when your phone buzzed.

hoonie: u still awake?

YOU: mhm

hoonie: just checking

You stared at that message for longer than necessary. He never double-texted. That was always your thing. He didn’t flood chats or spam gifs or say ‘LOL’ just to keep things moving. But these days, he checked in more. You weren’t stupid. You knew he was scared too. But he didn’t show it in the ways Beomgyu or Minji did. He just… appeared. Whenever you needed him most.

The screen dimmed.

You rolled over, finally letting your body settle into the mattress, one hand curling loosely around the handle of the kitchen knife under your pillow. You had a pepper spray bottle under the blanket. A baseball bat near the bathroom door. You’d considered buying a taser last week but your bank account said no.

Your eyes started to close when your phone buzzed again.

But it wasn’t a message this time. It was a call.

Unknown Number.

You blinked. Heart rate already up. Your first instinct was to let it ring out. But the last thing Minji had said flickered behind your eyes like a warning light:

“I’m changing my number tmrw fr.”

She said someone had been calling her. Threatening her. Maybe this was her? Maybe she was using a new number already?

Your thumb hovered over the screen. Just a quick pick-up. Say hello. If it’s weird, hang up.

You answered.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then—

A low chuckle. Grainy. Artificial.

You sat up. Your back hit the wall. The knife handle slid into your grip on instinct.

“…Who is this?” Your voice barely made it past your dry throat.

The voice that answered was warped. Deep. Wrong.

“You always answer too fast,” it said slowly, like it was testing its own tongue. “Not a good habit, sweetheart.”

You froze.

“Wrong number,” you whispered. “I think you have the—”

“You smell like vanilla.”

Your lips parted. You couldn’t speak.

“Your hair’s still wet from the shower. You’ve got a little bruise on your left thigh. From the edge of the table.”

You looked down. The bruise was hidden under your sleep shorts. There was no way he could’ve seen—

“You’ve locked the window, but your curtains aren’t thick enough. I can still see you.”

Your stomach dropped through the bed.

“That tank top’s cute. No bra tonight, huh? Brave.”

You shot out of bed like it burned. Knife in hand, you backed into the closet, yanked it open, and stuffed yourself into the space between your laundry hamper and the wall. Darkness pressed in. Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears.

“Who the fuck are you?” you snapped, trembling.

“The last one you’ll ever hear.”

You almost dropped the phone. Your thumb hovered over the red hang-up button, but something told you—don’t.

“I’m not going to hurt you yet,” he said, voice dragging through the speaker like oil through teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“They’re busy,” he said. “Cleaning up what’s left of Beomgyu.”

Your knees buckled.

You clutched the phone harder, throat tightening. “No. No. That’s not true.”

“Poor guy,” the voice sighed. “He didn’t scream long. Mouthy little fucker. I left him in pieces. You’ll probably see his teeth on Instagram by morning.”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

“Don’t cry yet,” he cooed. “Save that for later.”

And then the line went quiet.

You didn’t hang up. You couldn’t. Your brain felt like it had been snapped in half. Your tongue couldn’t form words. You wanted to scream. You wanted to puke. You wanted Sunghoon to text you again. To tell you it’s okay. That he’s outside. That this is just another prank.

Your phone buzzed again—but it didn’t disconnect the call.

It was another message.

hoonie: u okay?

YOU: no

YOU: someone’s calling me

YOU: i think it’s the guy

YOU: what do i do

Your screen flashed: Call Still Active.

“Don’t text him,” the voice said in your ear. Soft. Stern. “You’re mine now.”

Your throat closed.

“Hang up on me,” he whispered, “and I’ll cut your tongue out and nail it to your fucking door.”

Click. The call ended. And in the screen’s reflection, you saw movement behind your curtain.

________

The call hadn’t come back.

You sat on the kitchen floor, phone clutched in both hands like a lifeline, knees pressed into your chest. Every light in the apartment was on now, but it didn’t feel safe. Nothing about your skin felt safe. You couldn’t tell if you were cold or burning, but your fingertips tingled like they were forgetting how to exist.

You’d texted Sunghoon three times.

YOU: he hung up

YOU: i don’t know what to do

YOU: can you call me

He hadn’t answered.

You stared at the screen, willing it to light up with his name.

Instead—

Unknown Number is calling.

Your thumb hovered. Shaking. You didn’t want to answer.

You answered anyway.

“…Hello?”

There was a pause.

Then the voice returned. Calm. Too calm.

“You didn’t call the cops.”

You flinched.

“Should I have?”

“No. You did good.”

The way he said it made your stomach twist. Praise. Not relief. Not surprise. Praise, like you were a dog who stayed where she was told. You didn’t respond. You just pressed the phone harder to your ear.

“Are you sitting on the kitchen floor now?”

“Lights all on?”

“Knife in your lap?”

You said nothing.

“I liked you better in the dark.”

Your jaw clenched. “What do you want?”

The voice was quiet for a beat. Then:

“Everyone gone but you.”

Your mouth went dry. “Why?”

“Because they kept touching what’s mine.”

Your head jerked. “What—”

“Beomgyu flirted with you on campus. Yunjin called you her soulmate. Minji made you laugh. Yeonjun touched your fucking waist.”

His tone was flat. Like reading out groceries. But there was something underneath it. A sick, low crackle.

“They talked to you too much. Made you forget who protects you.”

Your throat closed. “You’re insane.”

“I’m honest.”

You felt it then. The pressure. Like the walls of the apartment were suddenly closer, like your lungs had stopped expanding the full way.

“They didn’t deserve you,” he said. “So I cut them out.”

He sighed like it hurt to say it.

“Yunjin was the hardest. She cried a lot. Told me she loved you. Kept saying your name while I held her down.”

You clutched your stomach. The nausea was instant and hot, filling your throat.

“Beomgyu screamed like a kid. Called for his mom. I think he thought it was a prank at first. I took one of his fingers. Just one. To prove it wasn’t.”

“Stop,” you whispered.

“Yeji fought like hell. She’s got marks on me I haven’t even cleaned off yet. You wanna see them?”

“Stop.”

“I’ll show you. When I get there.”

You stood up fast. Chair screeched behind you. “You’re not coming here.”

“Then why aren’t you running?”

Your legs didn’t move.

“Why didn’t you leave when I gave you the chance?”

Because part of you still didn’t believe this was real. Because your brain hadn’t caught up to your body. Because maybe—

“Because you want to know why.”

Your lips parted. He was right. You did.

“…Why me?”

Another pause. Then a breath—too soft, too close.

“You always looked so lonely, baby.”

Your chest ached.

“So I fixed it.”

You said nothing.

“I cut every thread that pulled you away from me. I made you mine.”

Your heart pounded like it wanted to break your ribs. “I’m not yours.”

“Not yet.”

You could barely hear your own thoughts. Only his words, curling like smoke.

“But you will be.”

Silence stretched. The tension hung, thick as blood.

Then—

“I want you to do something for me.”

You didn’t answer.

“You’re going to listen.”

The voice dropped lower. Slower. Darker.

“You’re going to obey.”

You don’t say anything.

Not yet.

You just stand there in the middle of your lit-up kitchen with your phone pressed against your ear, and every muscle in your body locked tight. You’re shivering, barefoot, barely breathing. But your other hand? It’s twitching. Because something in his voice—this disgusting, low, modulated thing—grips you like a leash wrapped around your throat.

“Put the knife down, baby. That’s not the kind of sharp thing I want inside you right now.”

You drop it. Metal clinks on tile.

“Good girl.”

You flinch.

“Now,” he breathes, “take that pretty little hand, slide it under those tiny shorts, and show me how wet you are.”

Your pulse spikes.

“I’m not—”

“Liar.”

“You’ve been dripping since I told you I was watching you. Haven’t you?”

You say nothing. Your legs won’t stop trembling. But your fingers move.

They slip under the waistband of your shorts, past your cotton panties—already damp—and find your pussy. Hot. Sticky. Soaked. You gasp.

“There she is,” he whispers. “Slutty little cunt’s already begging.”

Your thighs clench.

“Rub it. Slow.”

“I want to hear those wet little circles.”

You press down on your clit, swirling your fingers in tight, messy strokes. You hiss through your teeth.

“That’s right. Just like that. Rub that needy little clit for me.”

“Don’t hold back your moans, baby. Let me hear how desperate you are.”

Your lips part. A shaky moan slips free.

“Fucking knew it,” he groans. “You touch yourself like a whore.”

“Bet you’ve cum to the thought of me without even realizing it. Haven’t you?”

You choke on your own breath.

“God, I can hear it. Your fingers are fucking drenched. Are you that wet just from my voice?”

“F-fuck you—”

“You will,” he growls. “Soon as I get there.”

You whimper.

“Slide those fingers inside that tight little cunt. Two. Right now.”

Your hand trembles. You push them in—slow at first—but your pussy clamps around your fingers like it’s been starving. You arch your back against the wall.

“How tight are you?” he pants. “You fucking squeezing your fingers already? Greedy little thing. You want my cock that bad?”

You let out a broken cry. Your wrist pumps faster.

“Stretch yourself open for me. Get that pussy nice and sloppy. I want you dripping down your thighs.”

The slick sounds echo in the room now, obscene and shameless. Your palm is soaked. You can barely hold the phone steady.

“Wish I could see you,” he groans, voice beginning to crack, to strain. “Laying there like a fucking mess. Pussy stuffed with your fingers. Mouth open. Eyes rolled back.”

“Touching yourself like you were made for it.”

You grind your palm into your clit, fingers thrusting harder. Faster. You’re panting now—dirty, desperate, confused tears prickling the edges of your eyes but your body won’t stop. It won’t fucking stop.

Then you hear it.

A sound on the other end of the line.

Wet.

Rhythmic.

Fast.

He’s jerking off.

You can hear it. You can fucking hear it.

“I’m so close,” he moans—too loud, too raw—and suddenly, something changes.

His voice slips.

Modulator glitches.

And beneath it, you hear it.

Him.

“…Sunghoon?”

Silence.

Your hand stops.

“Fuck.”

It’s his voice.

Not distorted. Not fake.

Sunghoon. Your best friend. The one who texted you goodnight. The one who held your hand at the station. The one you never once suspected.

“You finally figured it out?”

“You sound so fucking hot when you’re scared.”

You don’t speak.

“Keep going.”

You don’t move.

“You’re already fucking soaked, aren’t you? From my voice.”

“From my hands. You just didn’t know it was me.”

You shake your head. “I—I didn’t—”

“But you didn’t stop either,” he growls. “You’re still spread open for me. Still dripping.”

“Fucking pathetic.”

Tears run down your cheeks. Your cunt clenches around your own fingers as his words burrow into your ears like rot.

“Cum for me,” he hisses. “Fucking cum on those fingers.”

Your body snaps.

White heat bursts behind your eyes as your orgasm tears through you—violent, shaking, unstoppable. You cry out, thighs twitching, juices slicking your hand and dripping down your wrist as your pussy clenches and pulses through the aftershocks.

He moans with you—deep, harsh, filthy. You hear it. You feel it. His cum hitting skin. The ragged breath.

Then—

Silence.

And one last sentence.

“Open the fucking door.”

__________

thank you for reading!!! reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!!

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If there was something you could change, literally anything, it would be your past.

Growing up was the one way you could escape your past and the people from it. That alone wasn’t enough. You became an adult, moved to somewhere far away for college, abandoned what you once called home and the people who were important to you just to feel the pain a little less. Who knew you would eventually come face-to-face with the reason for your valiant efforts to run away?

You were a fresh graduate who secured your degree in journalism, going down the road of sports journalism at a big media company that was known worldwide. All was well, that’s your initial judgement before everything went completely out of what you had in mind. 

No matter how you tried changing your fate, avoiding the one thing that reminded you of someone, it only ended up being a futile effort. Out of all the types of sports you could be covering, it just had to be motorsports. To anyone else, being able to travel the world to report on the prestigious sport of Formula One was an insane achievement. However, it was a complete opposite when it came to you. So, landing your first job as a Formula One reporter in Sky Sports was rather comical to you.

Being reconnected back to the one thing you shared with someone you loved years ago could be ever so heart wrenching. How cruel could fate be? Laughing in your face just to see you suffer from something—or rather, someone—that you never recovered from. 

Park Jong Seong. 

He was the first boy you became friends with in school, and truthfully, he was the only boy who ever got close to you. You never had much company during your school years, keeping mostly to yourself and having just a few good friends. That was why Park Jong Seong happened to become someone special to you. 

From the moment he introduced himself to you and became your deskmate, the both of you knew there was no chance of separating. Jong Seong mostly referred to himself as ‘Jay’, claiming that he never enjoyed the sound of his full name unless it was his parents calling him with it. When it came to you, however, you were the only exception to calling him whatever you liked, whether it was Jong Seong or Jay, all it mattered to him was you saying his name.

Jay lived close to you too, often dropping by during the weekends, then on the weekdays, he would be walking you to and from school. It became a common knowledge to everyone in school and your family that you and Jay were a package that came together. It didn’t take long before Jay introduced you to the love of his life—racing.

He was the reason why you've grown to love the sport. Watching him develop through every race you attended, winning championships that helped him climb up the ladder, gradually getting closer to his dream—Formula One, you could tell he was fated for success. Jay was only eighteen when he competed in Formula Two, travelling the world to race in different countries, all while maintaining a close relationship with you. 

There were times where he pulled you along to the countries he was competing in, whereas other times, he would rush home after every race just to see you and his family. Despite the constant claims from people around him that he was mainly home to see you, Jay would only wave them off. Neither of you would question the other whenever such situations occur, choosing to look the other way to avoid the awkwardness. You and him were just unknowing teenagers. Looking back, you wished you had purely acted on your feelings instead of backing down. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently compared to the present day.

That same year, during one of the mid-season breaks of Formula Two, Jay was home for a few weeks. There was also a huge announcement that ended up breaking the peace of the motorsport world. The news was everywhere. Media outlets were frantic to report the news that Jay, the country’s rising rookie star, has signed to Mercedes as a junior driver. 

“Surprise!” Jay showed up at your house the same day the news broke out. He had an immature smile, expecting you to reciprocate his energy but was only met with a deep frown. He followed you to your room, waiting for your response anxiously. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you sounded hurt, and as much as you didn’t wish to be, you couldn’t hide it even if you tried. A news as major as this, a chance that might change how the future would play out, it wasn’t just some minor announcement to you. 

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise. You love surprises. I’m one step closer to being an F1 driver, isn’t that crazy?” he admitted, the smile he had was faltering as he watched you closely, your every move, the slight twitch of your eyebrows, they didn’t go unnoticed by him. “What’s wrong? Are you … not happy?”

“‘Course I am,” you sat next to him, feeling your bed dip beneath you, the same heaviness that weighed on your heart. “I want you to be the best. I’m always going to support you in everything, you know that. You deserve to succeed,”

“I know, you’ve been there for me,” your constant support for him was unmistakable, Jay considered you as his strength, the reason he fought on whenever he was in a rough place. “I’m feeling there’s supposed to be a ‘but’ here,”

You smiled, a sense of vulnerability lingering in the way it didn’t reach your eyes, eventually dropping to a faint frown. It wasn’t an immediate response, you were walking on eggshells, carefully approaching your emotions without hurting him. “But I’m worried … scared actually,”

Jay stared at you with question marks written all over his face, suddenly, you have become a complex equation that has yet to be solved. In his perspective, he couldn’t understand the reason behind your fears of him potentially becoming the best of the best. For the first time in his life, Jay couldn’t understand you, nor could he see the worry you had over the future of your relationship. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” your voice came out as a whisper, realisation dawning on his face, the smile he had completely faltered. The atmosphere in your bedroom had shifted into an uncomfortable silence, the same place where he would camp out whenever he had the chance to would eventually become a memory that haunted you in the coming days. “I’m scared everything will change once you actually move away,”

“Nothing will change,” Jay was standing firm on an optimistic approach to this sudden news, trying to provide as much reassurance as he could by throwing an arm around your shoulder. He nudged you softly, raising an eyebrow. “Who said I’m moving away anyway?”

You made a face at him, eventually displaying a deadpan expression, only then he understood that there was no way of getting anything past you. “Stop lying, Park Jong Seong,” his full government name coming out of your mouth had him shifting on the bed. “I know you have to move to England. You signed with Mercedes, it’s a given, and your mum said so,”

You could hear him cursing silently under his breath, the lines between his furrowed eyebrows etched deeply into his skin. “I was planning on how to break the news to you. I didn’t think she would rat me out that quick,”

“It’s okay, I was the one who asked too much,” you shrugged, forcing yourself to come to terms with it. It was a tough pill to swallow admittedly, the change that would come with Jay’s newfound achievement was something that the both of you needed to get used to. “What will happen to us when you get famous and become a Formula One driver?” you tried to shake off the dread that hung in the space between the two of you with a lighthearted question. 

“I’ll win the world championship, earn loads so that I can treat you well,” there was a spark in his eyes that opposed the humour in his voice. He was dead serious, the determination he had could possibly move mountains. That was one thing about Jay, he never went back on his words once he said it. 

“Really?” you tilted your head, a doubtful grin plastered on your lips.

“Really,” Jay said, but there was a tone of conviction to it, as if he was fully ready to prove it right to your face. Success and fame wasn’t the most important thing to Jay, it was the people in his life, the ones that were beside him all throughout his journey. To him, you were one of the most deserving people beside his parents to enjoy every part of his success. You were his best friend, his rock, his ride or die, there was no second thought in giving you everything he had.   

You laughed at him, mostly with fondness, barely being able to hold back even after a solid minute. Jay looked at you, unamused, detesting the fact that you seemed to be taking him and his words lightly. At that, you shook your head, a sudden idea popping up in your mind. “Give me your hand,”

“What are you going to do?” he eyed you with suspicion, unsure if he should be doing what you told him to without knowing your real motives. You rolled your eyes at him, signalling him to do as he was told. 

“Just give it,” you hissed, staring pointedly at him until he extended his hand. He followed your every move, curious gaze trained on you removing your bracelet, a silver chain with a small safety pin charm in the middle. Your momentary touch on his skin was gentle, pulling his arm closer to place the bracelet around his wrist. Jay was obviously perplexed, the expression he had was a telling sign that he couldn’t grasp onto the meaning behind your action.

“This is … your lucky bracelet,” he looked down on his wrist, then back at you, blinking in surprise, finding it hard to swallow that you’ve just given him your favourite bracelet without any explanations. “Why?”

You rested your palms on your thighs, readjusting your position on the edge of the bed. “I won’t be there with you everyday, so I thought giving you this would be the same as a part of me being with you always,” you shrugged, releasing a quiet sigh, the truth of your imminent reality settling in, resting heavily on both of your shoulders. “Count this as me offering some of my luck,”

Jay didn’t reply immediately, mostly because he couldn’t. He was staring at the bracelet that was once yours, resting on his wrist, feeling as if you and him have already been separated by an ocean and he could only depend on a piece of accessory to be reminded of you. “This is not a forever goodbye, Y/N. I’ll be back whenever I have the chance to, I promise,” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to save some money at least. We can still call and text,” you laughed it off, despite knowing he was far from joking and was rather serious about it. Yet, a part of you didn’t wish for him to travel back and forth just to see you in person every few months. With a sport as such, money played an important role in it, everyone knew so, including you and Jay, both of you witnessed how money impacted his career in motorsport at some point. Adding on the weight of migrating to a new country, there were too many risks for him. 

“That’s different,” Jay mumbled incoherently, a faint frown replacing the initial enthusiastic grin he had, eyebrows furrowed. He turned to look at you, turning his attention away from the bracelet, and the constant reminder of parting being thrown in his face, allowing himself to properly place his focus on you, memorising every detail he had missed over the years, carefully constructing a perfect picture of you in his mind. He knew there was no turning back, that the pain which came along with his decision was a part of growing. “I’ll never leave.”

Nevermind.

. . . to be continued !

The smell of cedar hits you first.

It's faint at the edge of the hallway, then stronger—richer—by the time you reach his bedroom door. It's always like this when the full moon nears. His heat comes in waves. And when it does, he disappears.

You hate it.

Hate that he thinks he has to protect you from it.

From himself.

Jake isn't just your boyfriend—he's your mate, even if the mark isn't on your skin yet. The bond is deeper than blood. He was your best friend before anything else. He knows your heart like it's his own. But every time his heat approaches, he pulls away like he's some kind of danger to you.

Maybe he is.

But you're not scared of him.

You're scared of being shut out again.

You knock.

Silence.

"Jake," you murmur, voice low but firm. "I know you're in there."

Still no response. But the cedar smell grows stronger.

Your fingers hover on the doorknob.

"Please don't do this again." Your voice softens. "Just talk to me. I can't keep pretending I don't know what's happening."

A second passes. Then another.

Then—

A thump.

A growl.

And finally, his voice—hoarse, strained, like it's killing him to speak.

"Go home."

Another thud. You hear something crack.

"I'm not safe."

You lean your forehead against the door.

"I don't care."

You hear him inhale sharply. Like that got to him. Like he's been listening to every beat of your voice.

He speaks again, and this time, it's deeper—low and dangerous.

"You're making it worse."

Your heart clenches. But you don't back away.

"Then let me in."

His growl is more guttural this time, laced with something hungry.

"I can't be gentle right now."

"I don't want you to be."

Silence.

And then—

You hear the lock click.

And you feel it.

The shift in the air.

The thick, charged tension pulsing just beyond that door.

Like the second it opens, something caged will come undone.

But it's still closed.

Still a sliver of distance he's clinging to.

"Jake," you whisper. "Please."

You don't hear anything this time. Just another quiet, guttural exhale. And then—He speaks.

"You don't know what you're asking for."

But he doesn't lock the door again.

And he doesn't send you away.

You rest your hand on the knob. Not yet turning it.

Just breathing, heart racing.

Because you do know.

And you're ready.

But he's still fighting himself.

Still trying—desperately—to stay gentle.

_____________

The door creaks open slow.

You don't rush it.

You stand there, fingers curled around the knob, and when the wood gives way, what you see makes your breath catch—because you've never seen Jake like this.

Not fully.

He's shirtless, sweat-damp, every muscle taut like a stretched wire. His chest rises and falls like he's holding back a beast, not a breath. Jaw clenched. Hair messy. His eyes—golden brown, usually soft and warm—are darker now, glowing in the dim light, locked onto you like prey.

His hand is braced against the wall. The other is fisted so tight, claws start to peek out.

He looks feral.

He looks ruined.

And he still looks at you like you hung the goddamn moon.

"...Jake," you whisper.

He flinches.

"I told you not to come," he growls. "You need to leave before I—before I do something I can't take back."

You take a single step forward.

And he backs away.

Like the sight of you in his room—your soft cotton tee, bare legs, that look in your eyes—is the very thing setting him off.

"You're not going to hurt me."

"I will," he snarls. "Not because I want to. Because I won't be able to stop."

You reach for him. Slowly. Gently. Palm resting over his heartbeat, which slams against your skin like war drums.

"I don't want you to stop."

He swears under his breath.

"You don't know what it's like, baby. My heat—when it really hits—I don't just want to fuck. I need to. It's not slow. It's not soft. I'll take you too hard. I'll fuck you until you can't move. I'll make you come so many times you'll beg me to stop and I won't. You think you want that, but you—"

"I do."

Your voice cuts through the fog.

"I do want it, Jake. I want you. All of you. The part you hide. The part that wants to ruin me."

He groans, like the words physically hurt. He steps back—again—and slams a fist into the dresser behind him, knuckles denting wood. His body is trembling, not from fear—from restraint.

"I'm gonna break you."

You move closer.

"I want to be broken by you."

His gaze flicks to your lips. Your throat. Your chest. He's breathing like a wild animal now, nostrils flaring, hands twitching at his sides.

"God, baby," he whispers. "You smell like you want it."

"I do."

"You're so wet right now, aren't you?" he mutters, low and raw. "You want me to bend you over, fuck you until your legs give out, make you scream my name like I own your body."

You swallow.

"I want to come until I cry, Jake."

That does it.

He lunges.

In one motion, you're pinned against the wall, wrists gripped above your head, his body flush to yours, caging you in. His nose brushes your cheek, then down to your neck, and he inhales you. Sharp. Animal. Desperate.

You gasp, your thighs pressing together from the sheer weight of his presence.

"Fuck," he grits. "I can smell your arousal through your panties."

His lips are right at your ear now, voice breaking.

"I was gonna be gentle. I swore I'd be gentle with you someday. But now you're here, soft and soaked and begging for it. You're begging, baby."

Your voice is barely a breath.

"I am."

He pulls back—just enough to look you in the eyes—and what you see there is shattering. Love. Heat. Madness.

And something else.

Possession.

"I'm gonna make you squirt all over this fucking room."

You whimper.

He presses his forehead to yours, body trembling.

"You have five seconds to leave, baby. Five."

You don't move.

"Four."

Your breathing quickens.

"Three."

His hand slides down your waist.

"Two."

He growls, low and wet against your jaw.

"One."

You kiss him.

And then—

He breaks.

Your back hits the bed. His body crashes onto yours. His mouth is on your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Hands ripping at your shirt, panties already damp between your legs, heat radiating from every inch of his skin as he devours you.

He's still trying to be soft.

But not for long.

______________

The second your back hits the mattress, Jake’s mouth is on your chest.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t warm you up with a sweet kiss or slow glide of his fingers. You’d told him—begged him—not to be gentle. And now he’s unraveling. Coming apart at the seams.

But only for you.

His teeth catch the hem of your shirt. It’s off in seconds. Your bra is yanked down, not unclasped, his hands too frantic, too desperate to care about hooks and closures. He growls when your tits bounce free, and then he’s on them.

“S’fuckin’ perfect,” he slurs, voice muffled as he sucks one nipple into his mouth so hard you yelp. “So soft… so warm. My baby. My girl. Mine.”

You arch off the bed with a strangled moan, one hand gripping the sheets, the other tangled in his hair.

He flicks his tongue over your nipple—once, twice—then bites down, just enough to make your thighs clench.

“Jake—”

“Say it again,” he pants. “Say you want it. Say you want me like this.”

“I want you,” you cry, your voice shaking. “I want it so fucking bad. I want you to fuck me stupid, Jake—please—don’t hold back—”

He growls so low it rattles through your ribs.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he mutters, switching to your other nipple, licking, biting, sucking so hard you’re almost crying. “Knew this pretty pussy was dripping the second you walked in. Knew you were fucking aching for it.”

He palms your breast, rough fingers squeezing while he sucks the other into his mouth again, and again, messy and wet and hungry.

You can’t stop moaning. You’re soaked. Your thighs are rubbing together and you can feel how wet your panties are, how sticky and hot you’ve gotten just from his mouth on your chest.

“J-Jake—please—need your fingers, baby, please—”

He grins against your skin, wild and wicked, and kisses your nipple one last time before pulling back, eyes glowing.

“You want my fingers, baby?” he growls. “Want me to ruin this sweet little cunt before I even put my cock in?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—yes—fuck, yes—”

He sits back on his knees between your thighs, eyes fixed on the wet patch soaking through your panties. He groans deep in his throat, like the sight alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“Look at this fucking mess,” he growls. “This is all for me? Just from my mouth on your tits?”

You whimper, nodding, legs shaking.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he mutters, sliding your panties to the side with two fingers. “My perfect, desperate little girl…”

And then he shoves two fingers inside you.

No warning. No tease. Just a brutal thrust straight into your soaked heat, and your body jerks with a gasp.

“Fuuuck—”

You claw at the sheets, legs flying open wider as he curls his fingers hard, pumping into you like he’s chasing something violent.

“You like that?” he pants, leaning over you, mouth back on your nipple. “You like getting fucked open like this, baby?”

“Yes, Jake—don’t stop, please—please—fuck—”

He licks and bites your nipple while his fingers thrust in and out of you, wet and rough and relentless. Every time he curls them, they hit your spot just right, and your eyes roll back.

You’re already close.

You’re not even embarrassed.

He loves that about you. Loves that you’re not holding back. That you’re not afraid of him. That you want to be ruined.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he growls. “Wanna see you gush for me. Wanna see you fall apart before I even fuck you.”

“J-Jake—baby—so close, please—!”

Your hips are bucking off the bed, chasing his fingers, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it feels. And he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.

He adds a third finger.

And you scream.

“Oh my *god—*Jake—!”

“That’s it,” he groans, mouth wet against your chest. “Come for me, baby. Come so hard you make a mess all over my hand. Show me how much you fuckin’ needed this.”

His fingers pound into you, the sounds slick and obscene, your juices dripping down your thighs, the mattress creaking from the rhythm of your body jerking.

And then—

You break.

Your legs fly up, shaking. Your walls clamp down hard. Your clit pulses as the orgasm rips through you like fire. You squirt, soaking his hand, your thighs, the sheets. You’re screaming his name, breathless and raw.

“JAKE—!”

He watches the way you tremble, the way your body convulses, mouth parted, drool on your chin, and he groans like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuckin’ knew you could squirt,” he breathes, slowly fucking you through the aftershocks. “Knew you had this in you, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my mate.”

You’re gasping, twitching, tears streaking down your face. “T-too much—fuck—it’s so—Jake—”

But he doesn’t stop.

Because you asked for this.

And he’s in heat.

And you’re his.

And this?

This is only the beginning.

______

You’re trembling.

Still slick, still dripping. His fingers leave you empty, and your cunt aches—fluttering, spasming, desperate for more. You barely have time to breathe before Jake’s flipping you, not to fuck you yet—but to taste you.

“Sit on my face.”

You blink through the haze. “What?”

His voice is deeper. Rougher. A low, guttural order that shakes you to your core.

“Sit. On. My. Face.* I just made you squirt all over my hand and you think I’m done?” He grins—feral and wide. “I haven’t even tasted you yet, baby.”

Your pussy clenches at the sound of that.

You straddle his chest, crawling up his body, and his hands find your ass immediately—gripping, squeezing, dragging you forward.

“I wanna drown in this pussy.”

You whimper, your thighs shaky, but he doesn’t wait. He pulls you down, seating you over his mouth—and the second his tongue touches you, you scream.

His mouth is everywhere. Tongue lapping through your folds, nose grinding against your clit. He groans, messy and obscene, as if your taste is feeding his heat. He eats you like he’s starving.

“F-fuck, Jake—oh my god—”

Your hips start moving—riding his face hard, fast, wet—and he lets you. Wants you to. He moans against your cunt, tongue fucking deep, lips wrapping around your clit to suck so hard your vision goes white.

You’re grabbing the headboard now. Grinding down, eyes rolled back, overstimulated and breathless.

And then—

You feel it.

His cock—hot, heavy, throbbing—pressed up against your chest.

Still fully hard.

Still untouched.

You look back at him. He’s panting into your cunt, pupils blown wide, completely lost in you.

You reach between his legs.

You grab him.

And he moans into your pussy.

“Ohhh fuck, baby—touch me—please—fuck, I need—”

You don’t tease. You don’t warm up.

You slide your mouth down on his cock and he bucks up hard under you.

“Shit—!”

His tongue stutters in your pussy, and you take him deeper—slow, then fast, then all the way down. His cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes water, drool spilling over your lips, but you don’t stop.

Your head bobs. His tongue drives into you. His hands clutch your ass, dragging your cunt over his face like he owns it, and you both fuck into each other’s mouths like animals in heat.

“Your mouth—fuck—so tight—so perfect—” he chokes.

You whimper around him.

“Mmph— taste so good—can’t stop, baby, you’re mine,” he growls into your cunt.

You start to shake again.

Your second orgasm rips through you on his tongue.

You squirt. Again. Right into his mouth.

And he moans, loud and filthy, drinking it.

“*Good fucking girl—*oh my god—yes—fuck—come for me, baby—come all over me—”

You sob around his cock as your body collapses, drool dripping, pussy twitching, thighs locking around his head.

He laps it all up.

He doesn’t stop.

But you pull off his cock—gasping, ruined, needy—because you need him inside you now.

You’re already moving—sliding down his chest, grabbing his cock, lining yourself up.

“Baby—” he pants, “You’re still shaking—”

“I don’t care,” you moan. “I want you. Now.”

His voice breaks.

“Then ride me, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock. Take it.”

You sink down—

_____

You slide down on him slow at first.

But even that hurts.

He’s thick, swollen from heat and sheer desperation. Your soaked cunt stretches wide around him, inch by inch, your walls fluttering from the aftershocks of your last orgasm.

Jake’s groaning beneath you, breathless.

“Fuuuck—so tight—you’re taking it so well, baby—so fucking good for me—”

Your back is to his chest, spine arching as you sink lower, your palms braced on his thighs behind you. His cock fills you deep, the stretch obscene. You can feel every vein, every twitch, every pulse.

When you bottom out, he grabs your waist like he owns it.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he growls, voice ragged in your ear. “Back arched, tits bouncing—fuck, baby—ride me.”

You lift your hips—and slam back down.

“Ahhh—!” You cry out, head tipping back. “J-Jake—!”

He groans, hands gripping your hips harder, thumbs digging into your flesh as you start to bounce.

Up.

Down.

Wet and fast. Loud and reckless.

You slam your ass against his thighs again and again, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room, his cock punching deep inside with every thrust.

He growls behind you, one hand sliding up to grip your tits.

Then—

Smack.

You gasp.

He slaps your tits from underneath, hard enough to sting, and you feel it everywhere—your clit throbs, your walls squeeze tight around him, your whole body lights up.

“Y-you—fuck—did that again—”

Smack.

Another slap, this time to your left tit, harder.

“Too fucking pretty,” he growls. “Can’t stop touching you. Can’t stop owning you.”

He leans forward now, chest pressing to your back, arms curling around you like a cage. One hand still gripping your breast, the other sliding down to your throat.

You ride him harder.

Faster.

Your ass slaps down wet and rough, his cock splitting you open again and again, the squelch of your soaked pussy filling the room with every bounce.

Your body’s on fire.

Your thighs are shaking, your stomach tight, your clit grinding against the base of his cock with every thrust. You feel another orgasm building.

“Jake—I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—!”

He groans, hand tightening slightly around your throat.

“You better come,” he pants into your ear. “You better make a mess all over my cock, baby. Let go. Let me feel it.”

You slam down again—and scream.

Your orgasm shreds through you. You squirt again, soaking his cock, your legs buckling.

But Jake doesn’t stop.

He thrusts up into you from below, chasing his own release, hips snapping hard. You’re crying now, gasping, begging.

“Too—much—Jake—please—”

“No,” he growls. “You begged for this. Said you wanted to be broken. You don’t get to tap out now, baby.”

He’s fucking you from beneath, and you’re just taking it, limp in his arms, choking on moans and tears and his cock buried inside you.

Then he grabs your hair, yanks your head back.

His lips brush your jaw.

“I’m gonna fill you.”

You sob. “Please—please, do it—”

“I’m gonna breed this pussy, baby,” he growls, slamming up into you. “Gonna fill you till it leaks out. Gonna fuck you again the second you stop shaking.”

You’re already shaking.

Then—he breaks.

Jake slams in one last time, cock pulsing deep, and you feel the heat of his cum flood you. He groans, low and deep, mouth open against your skin, hands locked around your waist as you both fall forward in a trembling heap.

You’re still twitching.

Still full.

Still his.

_______

You can barely move.

Your thighs are limp. Your cunt’s still twitching, his cum already dripping out of you in hot, slow waves. Your body’s been fucked senseless—your voice wrecked, your skin marked.

But he’s not done.

Jake moves slowly this time—not because he’s gentle, but because he’s possessive.

Careful with his prize.

He pulls out just long enough to see the mess he made. Your pussy spread open, fluttering, raw and leaking white. His cum everywhere. Coating your inner thighs. Smearing the backs of your legs. His cock still heavy and hard with the need to do it again.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” he pants, rubbing his tip against your slit. “You’re dripping for me. Look at this. You were made to be fucked like this.”

You moan weakly, fingers curling in the sheets. “Jake—baby—”

He kisses your thigh. Then the other. Then slides his hands under your knees—

And folds you.

Legs pushed back, knees to your chest. He looks down at you like he’s starving again. But this time… it’s deeper. Final.

You’re his.

And now he’s going to seal it.

“This,” he breathes, dragging his cockhead through your mess, “is how wolves breed.”

And then he thrusts.

Hard.

You scream.

The angle hits everything—deep, thick, brutal. He stretches you wide again, splits you open, his cock so big now it punches up into your guts.

He doesn’t move at first.

He just stays there, buried to the base, letting you feel how deep he is.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispers. “That’s your womb. I’m right there. Gonna pump you so full of my cum it won’t know what to do with it.”

You sob.

“Yes—*yes—*fuck, Jake—please, fill me—”

Then he moves.

And it’s everything.

His hands pin your thighs wide, his hips slam into yours with brutal force, and your body bounces under him with every thrust. The bedframe creaks. The mattress groans. Your tits shake with every impact and he’s watching all of it—memorizing it—like this is the moment he’s been holding back for years.

“Take it,” he grits. “Take my cock. Take my fucking pups.”

Your eyes roll back.

“I—fuck—I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, leaning in, sweat dripping off his jaw. “You were made for this, baby. Your body wants this. This cunt is sucking me in—begging for my cum.”

You sob, writhing beneath him, legs shaking as his cock slams deeper and deeper.

You feel it everywhere.

The stretch.

The weight.

The bulge in your belly when he bottoms out—

“Jake—you’re in my stomach—!”

“Damn right I am,” he growls. “And I’m gonna stay there.”

He pounds you harder.

Faster.

Your orgasm builds again—violent, brutal, unstoppable. You’re screaming, nails raking down his back, eyes flooding with tears as he destroys you.

“Come on,” he pants. “One more. One more for me, baby. Squirt all over this cock while I breed you.”

And you do.

Your orgasm explodes through you—wet, hot, endless. You squirt hard, crying out his name, your pussy milking him so tight he roars.

Then—

He locks his arms under your back.

Slams in deep one last time.

And comes.

Hot.

Hard.

So much it overflows instantly, thick spurts gushing out around his cock even as he stays buried.

“Fuck—*fuck—*baby—yes—yes—take it—take all of it—”

You’re gasping. Shaking. So full it hurts. Cum drips down your ass, stains the sheets, keeps coming.

And still—he doesn’t move.

He’s panting into your neck, body pressed flush to yours, cock twitching inside you. Your legs are still trembling around his waist when his lips brush your shoulder.

“You’re mine.”

You nod weakly.

His fangs drag against your skin.

Then—

Bite.

Sharp. Deep. Claiming.

You cry out—but not from pain. From completion. His heat, his cock, his love, his mark—all of it buried inside you, sealing something sacred.

He kisses the mark.

Then your lips.

Then your cunt.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice shaking, breath caught.

And for a moment, everything stops.

Jake’s breath hitches. His body goes still, still buried deep inside you, his cock softening slowly, locked in your twitching, overfilled cunt. Your thighs are still wrapped around his waist. His hands are still tangled in your hair, the tips of his claws sheathed just enough to not break skin.

Your body’s trembling from everything—heat, love, exhaustion—and when he lifts his head to look at you, the change is instant.

His expression breaks.

Not the rough, possessive Alpha that fucked you raw. Not the beast that growled into your throat and bred you like you asked for it.

Just Jake.

Your Jake.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Full of everything he’s ever felt for you and never been brave enough to say.

“I love you, too.”

His voice cracks when he says it.

And you start crying.

You don’t even mean to. It just happens—soft, overwhelmed tears as your hands reach for him and his arms wrap around you like he never wants to let go.

“Hey, baby—hey, shh—it’s okay,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion as he kisses your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re mine.”

You cling to him.

“I didn’t say it because of the sex,” you murmur, sniffing, breath catching. “I mean, I did—but I do love you, Jake. Before this. Always.”

He groans softly, forehead pressing to yours.

“I know,” he whispers. “And I was so fucking scared to believe it.”

He kisses you again. Slow. Tender.

Then he pulls out.

You whimper at the sensation—wet, hot, and raw, his cum leaking instantly from your sore, swollen pussy. You feel the warmth drip down your thighs, pooling between them, your hole still fluttering from overstimulation.

He kisses your stomach.

Then between your thighs.

And licks.

You jolt, crying out, thighs twitching.

“J-Jake—too much—”

“Shh, I know,” he whispers, licking slow, gentle strokes through your folds. “Just need to clean you up, baby. Just want to take care of you.”

You moan helplessly as he licks the mess from your thighs, your core, soft kisses pressed to your clit between strokes. His hands never leave your body. He keeps whispering to you—

“You did so good for me.”

“You’re everything I ever needed.”

“My perfect mate.”

“My good girl.”

“My love.”

You’re crying again. But this time, you’re smiling, too.

Eventually, he pulls back, gently wipes you down with a warm cloth from the bathroom, and wraps you in his arms. You stay on top of him, your face buried in his neck, still full of his cum, still claimed. His mark on your shoulder throbs with heat and belonging.

He strokes your hair.

You fall asleep with his heart beating steady beneath your cheek and his arms holding you like nothing else matters.

Because to him—

Nothing else does.

________

Jake is panicking.

You’re barely awake, still curled up under the mess of blankets—completely naked, completely wrecked, and completely glowing. But he’s pacing.

Running a hand through his hair. Tripping over his own jeans on the floor. Muttering curses under his breath.

And you’re pretty sure his tail would be tucked if he had one out right now.

“Oh my god,” he groans, staring at the side of your thigh like it insulted his bloodline. “I knew I was too rough—fuck, baby, look at that—”

You squint, then glance down at your thigh.

Oh. Right. That one’s from when he grabbed you from behind during round two and held you in place while you came all over his cock.

It’s purple. Gorgeous, honestly.

You smile. “Hot.”

He freezes.

“No—not hot. Baby, that’s a bruise.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “A sexy bruise. From my boyfriend who wrecked my insides in the best way.”

Jake actually whimpers.

He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, burying his face in your stomach like he’s trying to physically absorb the guilt back into his bloodstream.

“I hurt you,” he groans, voice muffled. “You’re covered in marks. Your neck—your hips—your *chest—*fuck, I shouldn’t’ve—”

You laugh.

It’s soft and sleepy, but he hears it. And he lifts his head, wide-eyed, ears perked like a kicked puppy.

“You’re laughing,” he mutters, voice fragile.

“Yes,” you reply gently. “Because I wanted it. Because you were perfect. Because you loved me so hard I forgot my own name for five hours straight.”

He makes a wounded sound and collapses onto the bed next to you, arms wrapping tight around your waist like he might disintegrate if you let go.

“I got possessive,” he says into your hair. “I couldn’t stop. You smelled like you wanted it and then you were moaning and crying and saying I was yours and I—I lost it. I bit you.”

You hum. “That’s called mating, babe. Very standard wolf stuff.”

He groans. “I *bit you—*you squirted, and I bit you—”

“Sounds like we hit all our goals for the evening.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he mumbles, even as he pulls you closer, tucking your face into his chest.

You grin against his skin. “So are you. You’re also dramatic. And hot. And very much in love with me.”

He pulls back, eyes soft, lips parted. “I am. So in love with you, I can’t even see straight. You’re my whole world. And I’m scared I’ll ruin you every time I touch you.”

You cup his jaw. “Jake.”

His eyes shimmer.

“I’d let you ruin me again. I’d ask for it. Because you love me while you do it. That’s the difference.”

He exhales shakily. “You always say the perfect thing.”

“Because you always feel too much,” you whisper. “But I love that about you.”

Jake kisses you—slow, deep, still trembling.

When he pulls back, he smiles. That crooked, chaotic, hopelessly in love smile.

“I’m still icing your thighs.”

“You’re gonna eat me out while doing it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

___________

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His leg bounces up and down as he lays back in Robin’s couch, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. Robin drops down next to him, offering him a beer and nudging his knee to close his manspread. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks, taking a swig of her own cold drink.

He pops the lid off with his teeth as Robin winces. “Nothing’s wrong,” he sulks, clearly showing the brunette that something is indeed wrong. Robin rolls her eyes as she pokes his broad shoulder with a teal fingernail. “You’re jealous.” she teases in a sing-song voice.

Steve shakes her off as he splutters defensively, “Of fucking what, Rob?” 

“Of Y/N, dingus. She’s like your cool mom competition and now that she’s back in town, you’re scared she’s going to snag your title.” she determines correctly, “You’re terrified that she’ll be super fucking awesome and then you’ll be fraternising with the enemy. Joining the crowd of followers, if you will. It’s simple.”

Eddie strolls past carrying a large cooler of alcoholic drinks in his bare tattooed arms. “Y/N is fucking awesome.” he agrees.

“Why has everyone met this Y/N girl except for me?” Steve whines.

He’s barely met you but he seems to know everything about you: every single accolade, every single award, all the times you outscored him at whatever game at Palace Arcade. He even knows your favourite colour, for Christ’s sake. So yes, maybe you’re a little cooler than him or more athletic or whatever, but can he really believe the words of his notoriously hyperbolic friends?

Just as Steve is about to relax, no-nonsense, non-exaggeratory Nancy shatters his dreams in her delicate fist.

She’s pinning up her curls as she walks into the living room, Jonathan following close behind with a box of snacks at his hip. “What’re we talking about?” she asks through a bobby pin in between her teeth.

“Y/N,” Eddie and Robin say in unison. Steve groans.

“Oh, she’s cool,” Nancy hums, agreeing with the pair's sentiment much to Steve’s dismay, “she’s really smart, I’m happy that she’s back.”

The final nail in the coffin. “The kids love that girl,” Jonathan agrees, “Will and El were just asking when she was going to come visit last week.”

Steve buries his face in his palms wet with condensation from his beer. “Alright! Okay!” he half-shouts, “I get it! Y/N’s God and you’re all her disciples, jeez.”

Robin and Eddie have seen Steve get like this before, all cagey and defensive. It happened last year when Eddie joined the group. “Don’t be such a contrarian, Steve,” Robin scolds. She knows that he isn’t doing it to be mean, but she’s worried that Steve’s reasonable insecurity will come out as something harsher than he means.

Steve knows how he sounds, criticizing the companions his friends keep without giving you a chance. He chokes down the sour taste in his mouth as he holds up his hands defensively. “Okay, fuck, sorry.” he grumbles.

The party’s in full swing by the time you arrive. Jonathan’s sprawled out on the carpet, stifling his giggles as Robin tries to balance a stack of VHS tapes on his stomach. Eddie’s engrossed in a conversation about the most waterproof eye makeup with Nancy as the doorbell rings. Steve completely forgets about your arrival as he stumbles to the door, pulling it open to reveal the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Steve takes an embarrassingly long time to collect himself as he splutters with his hand on the doorknob. You blink at the beautiful stranger, perplexed, and Steve summons all his courage to not run away. He shivers as you appraise him, feeling hot all over when your eyes meet his.

“Hello,” you say finally, and Steve’s skin feels prickly.

“Hi- um, hello.” he stammers, looking surprised at himself. You determine that this is a man who doesn’t usually behave like a deer in headlights. It’s endearing.

“I’m-”

“Y/N,” Steve finishes for you. He swallows thickly before forcing himself to speak like a normal human being. “Sorry, I just, um-,” he breathes in deeply, “I’m Steve Harrington,”

He sticks out a clammy hand and you take it, biting back a smile. “I know.”

“Oh.”

Steve widens the door for you to enter, watching you kick off your black boots as you step inside. When you look up, his eyes dance away from yours, looking caught like a child with a hand in the candy jar. You giggle as he guides you into the living room with almost robotic movement.

Everybody is as he left them as Steve clears his throat. His voice sounds strangled as he announces, “Y/N’s here.”

Robin shrieks a sound that he’s never heard before as she jumps up, almost slipping on the carpet as she throws her arms around your neck. “Oh my god, you’re here!” she squeals. Jonathan and Nancy follow close behind, wrapping their arms around you and Robin in a tight group hug. Steve shuffles off to the side awkwardly as Eddie walks up to the entanglement of their friends, looking at Steve funny.

“Is that who I fuckin’ think it is?” he laughs as the group parts to make way for him. He pulls you in by the waist to spin you around as you shriek, beating on his back. “Oh, what the fuck, Munson!” you squeal, trying to pull yourself out of his grip.

Steve thinks he might throw up as Eddie sets you down back on your feet, planting a kiss on your cheek. “I missed you, rockstar. How’s Chicago been, babe?”

He watches the three of you retreat back to the couch as Robin lingers behind, giving him the same funny look Eddie had shot him earlier. He scrubs at his cheek self-consciously with a frown, “Is there something on my face?”

“So you finally met her.” Robin says, a smile creeping up her face, "Y/N Sinclair." She knows that look- the kind of expression people wear after meeting you for the first time. 

Steve nods, watching you and Jonathan talk animatedly as Nancy offers you a beer. “She’s…cool,” he says finally. Robin snorts, punching him in the shoulder to encourage a second answer.

“Okay, fuck-” Steve groans, rubbing his shoulder as he sneers at his best friend. His breath catches when he looks over, your pretty eyes meeting his for half a second. Steve swallows thickly as he sighs dreamily. “I get why everyone’s so in love with her now.”

Even now, your life still revolved around him. You would have it no other way. Even now, when he had no air in his lungs, no rise and fall of the once warm chest you used to lay your head on every night, listening to the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat as you listened to his voice prattle on and on about his latest discoveries like a bedtime story… you still heard him in your head.

“Can you imagine it, baby? The shock of the entire medical industry—no, life itself—when we finally crack the code?” You’d hear his excitement in the darkness of your bedroom. His endless blue eyes steeped with unquenchable passion. “Those narrow-minded dimwits on the board might call us crazy now, but we’ll show them, won’t we? Soon, they’ll be singing a different tune.”

“We?”

“Of course, baby.” The glow of the bedside lamp would catch in his eyes. A glint that never failed to mesmerise you. “We. Us. Me and you. It won’t feel as good sticking it to them without you by my side.”

“But this is your life’s work, Toru. I’m just your assistant. I can’t possibly take the same amount of credit.”

“It’s ours,” he’d said firmly, kissing your head as if he was sealing his words in stone. “Everything of mine is yours, if not officially now, then it will be soon. Why do you think I’m marrying you?”

“Because you always forget to eat unless I remind you.”

“That’s because I can’t live without you. I thought we’d established that fact.”

You’d smiled and snuggled into him. “Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he’d said, wrapping you closer in his arms, his scent. “Because neither am I.”

But he did. He’d gone and died.

And now you would fix him.

This was not ‘The End’.

Gently, you smoothed back the wisps of snowy white hair from his face. Your fingers traced his brows, his temple, along his jaw, brushing the pale, grey lips that used to press against yours not so long ago. Your gaze moved first before your hand, to the fine stitches down his chest, circling his right arm, raised slightly against the skin across the width of his stomach—a perfect split, and a reminder of the state he’d been in before you’d patched him up—

In pieces. 

You smacked the image away. There was nothing left in you to hurl out, but you refused to remember him that way. Your Satoru was too brilliant, too full of light, too alive. He was too beautiful to be fleeting. Too precious to be taken away so brutally.

And he was yours. He still was. 

You heard the staccato beep of an access card tapping in, the door sliding swiftly open. A pair of shoes clacked against the tiles. You didn’t turn around. 

“It’s time, doc.” The voice belonged to Shoko, your former colleague before you inherited the research centre Satoru left you in his will. “They’re waiting for you to do the final checks.”

You nodded once, your gaze still fixed on Satoru. You should be excited. This was it. You were going to revive him. You should move. Get him to the Infinity Chamber immediately.

But your feet stayed rooted to the floor. 

You felt Shoko come up beside you. The room was soundless for a few seconds.

“He looks good, doc. Your suturing is impeccable. It’s lucky his brain wasn’t damaged and all the injuries are neck-down. Cell and nerve therapy was a bitch, but I don’t think we’ll stand a chance if we have to replace brain matter.”

“It has to be his brain,” you said. “He wouldn’t be him if it wasn’t. And I would’ve found a way.”

“Mmm,” was all Shoko replied. You knew what she was thinking. You knew what they all thought but didn’t have the heart to say aloud in front of you. 

That you were delusional. That despite shutting down every research arm except those that benefited your cause, despite stripping the centre down of non-essential staff and resources, and pouring the entire budget into speed funding Satoru’s wildly controversial Theory of Resurrection—his life’s work—the chances of success was next to none.

And if it didn’t work, then that was it. You would have destroyed the Gojo family’s legacy. The board would kick you out and sell the centre. It was a miracle they had agreed to this in the first place. You supposed you had Sukuna to thank for that extra vote, though the man was a cunning bastard, so you were sure his motives were not completely altruistic. 

You’d calculated the odds. There was a six percent chance this would work. Only six. All for today. All for him.

Eh, better than five, Satoru’s voice spoke in your head. You clutched onto the sound, but it was like chasing a ghost. A blink, and it was gone.

A water bottle appeared in your vision.

“Drink,” said Shoko. 

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. You’re also living in hell, and I guarantee you won’t find him there.” She pressed the bottle into your hands. “So you’re going to drink this, and you’re going to wheel him out of this room. You’re going to put him into that chamber, and you’re going to face the fact that it might not work. But I’ll tell you something—staring at his corpse for five more minutes isn’t going to bring him back.”

Your lips pressed into a tight line. “How many?”

“All of them,” confirmed Shoko. “Every board member, not just Sukuna. Arrived some time ago. And ah… Fushiguro Megumi is here too.”

Fuck.

“I see,” you said, keeping your tone steady. “I—give me a moment. I won’t be long.”

A beat, and then Shoko was retreating. You waited for the sliding doors to seal shut before reaching into the pocket of your lab coat. Your gaze hadn’t wavered from Satoru this whole time, and it still didn’t as you let the water bottle fall on the floor with a loud thud.

“Hey baby,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. Like reflex, you waited for his fingers to curl around yours. For his thumb to brush lightly along your knuckles. And when nothing happened, you stroked his instead. “So, here we are. You could’ve made it easier if you’d sorted out all your files like I told you to. And didn’t I say making my birthday your password was too obvious? Anyone would’ve guessed that and you know it.”

A distant chuckle echoed somewhere in your head. 

“I wish you could see it,” you continued. Paused. “I mean, you will. When you wake up, you’ll see I did everything according to your specifications. No deviations. No variables. It’s all your design, down to the last decimal. It’s all you, Toru. It will be all of you… you’ll be you again.”

You lifted his hand, your other holding the ring you’d been carrying around in your coat pocket for what felt like an eternity, and slipped it onto his fourth finger. A simple platinum band, matching with the one you wore. You’d picked it out together during an extended lunch break a month before the wedding.

You squeezed his hand, and bent down to press your lips against his. 

“I’ll see you soon.”

Thirty three weeks ago…

“Death is a process, not a moment. But you already know that.”

You groaned. “Satoru, it’s two in the morning. The wedding is in fifteen hours. We should get some sleep before checking into the hotel.”

“Just humour me for a bit, baby. I think I’m onto something.” Satoru was already hopping out of bed. He flicked on the lights without warning, temporarily blinding you, and was rolling the whiteboard to the foot of the bed by the time your vision recovered. 

You stared at him, shirtless and in a pair of checkered pyjama pants, as he uncapped the marker pen, his blue eyes wide awake and bright with that unrivalled ambition you envied and loved.

You sighed and shifted to sit up against the pillows. “Alright, make it quick. I don’t want to walk down the aisle with bags under my eyes.”

“I’ll still think you’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

You couldn’t help the skipped beat in your chest, or the smile that appeared on your lips. “You want to keep the compliments coming, or tell me your theory?”

“Baby, you underestimate me. I can do both at the same time, and then some more.” Satoru winked, and began sketching.

You watched as Satoru filled the whiteboard with diagrams, his hand moving like an artist with a brush. Sometimes, you swore you saw equations flying out his head, faster than the average human could comprehend. His mind was a marvel, his face was a dream. He was your dream.

The dream you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your days with. 

"The key isn't preventing death,” Satoru was saying. “It's reversing it. Death is a cascade—cellular processes shutting down in sequence. If we can interrupt that cascade, reset the cells' programmed death response, we can bring them back online."

“Yes, it’s the basis of your entire research,” you said. “Interrupt cell degradation. Reverse. Reconstruct. Rehabilitate. Regenerate. The Four R’s, as you like to remind everyone. It’s why we’re building that machine in the first place—“

“Chamber, darling. Not machine. Sounds better.”

“But why are you repeating this?”

“Because, my gorgeous soon-to-be wife, I just realised we’re missing an important ingredient.” Satoru proceeded to draw a big question mark and circled it. “We can revive a body, but what of the soul?”

You lifted a brow. Since when was he suddenly concerned with the spiritual side of things? “You’re going to have to elaborate, Toru.”

“Think about it, baby. Why am I so madly in love with you?” Satoru grinned. “Why do I look at you now and think I want nothing better than to take your clothes off? Why do I want to fuck no one else but you?”

Heat prickled up your neck. But you said, “It’s the logic your brain comprehends, as unromantic as it sounds.”

“Exactly. It’s brain chemistry.” Satoru flung the marker pen aside and in the next moment, he was climbing on the bed, and on top of you. “The soul is tied to the brain.”

His head lowered, lips brushing against yours.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “Do you like that?”

You melted under his gaze.

“Yes,” you breathed.

Then he was ripping the blanket away. His hands slid underneath the oversized shirt you wore, up and up and peeling it off you, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“What about this?” His fingers dragged up the middle of your torso, tracing the underside of your breasts. He began drawing slow circles around your nipple.

You arched into his touch. “Yes…”

His mouth caught a nipple, and he began sucking. Flicking. His tongue and teeth playing with you until little moans escaped you. “And what about now, baby?”

“Ngh—get to your point…”

A chuckle. “Consciousness,” Satoru said, as his hand travelled down your stomach, down between your thighs, and with two fingers, began stroking you over your already soaked panties. “Our brains are what shapes our souls. What allows us memory and complex emotions. We can revive a body, but without a soul, without consciousness, the body would be human in appearance but not in essence.”

Your moans grew louder when his fingers slipped underneath your panties, sliding right up the middle of all your aching wetness. Your legs parted wide to give him more access.

“Pleasure…” Satoru murmured, his mouth and tongue working up the curve of your neck as his fingers caught your clit, and pinched it.

“Ahn! Toru—take it off…”

His tongue had reached its way along the shell of your ear, but his fingers remained, holding your clit hostage.

“Patience, baby. I’m not yet done with my demonstration,” he teased, then did the most wicked thing, and began rolling your tight little nub between his fingers. Slowly. So, so slowly.

“Oh my…” Your head tipped back against the pillows. You tried to grab hold of Satoru, but he only pinned down your wrists above your head with his free hand. 

“God,” he finished what you couldn’t, “why do I always go crazy for you like this? Why are you enjoying what I’m doing as much as you do now? Tell me, baby.”

“Because—nghh! Because it’s you… because I only want you, Toru…”

“And I, you, my love,” he said against your lips, in a tone so tender and reassuring there was no room for doubt, before finally plunging two fingers inside you, pumping deep. “Which brings me back to my point. You love it when I fuck you like this because it’s me. Because of all the memories you have of me. Because of what you feel for me. This is what your brain has decided, and because the brain is connected to the soul, one cannot be brought back without the other.”

Somewhere in between, he’d added another finger, making it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on what he was saying. In this moment, with him rocking inside you, hitting you over and over again in that terribly sensitive spot, driving you insane, Satoru could’ve been reciting the ABCs and you still wouldn’t have understood much.

“T-toru…please—“

“Almost, baby. Did you forget about my cock?” His fingers ceased its sweet torture, slipping out. The sudden lack of him jarred you, but you could only whimper out a plea.

In one easy motion, Satoru flipped you around and was yanking off your panties. Warm, solid hands palmed your ass, lifted your hips high, exposing all the slick evidence dripping down your inner thighs. 

Satoru swore under his breath. “Fuck, look at you. If this is the last thing I see before I die, then I’ll die happy.”

Your thoughts shattered as you felt the warm press of his tongue. Satoru licked you clean. Licked up all that wetness leaking down your thighs. Then he licked you there—a single stroke, deep and slow, up your melting core, before narrowing on your dangerously sensitive clit, flicking and sucking and making you lose your mind. 

Satoru let you come like this first—on his tongue. With your face buried in the pillows and his buried in your pussy. Your legs were still trembling when you felt his impressive length, rock hard, rubbing against your folds, making you go wet all over again. 

“Yes or no, baby?” he asked, though it was pointless. He already knew what your answer would be.

You mumbled something unintelligent, but wiggled your hips for emphasis. Then felt his tip nudge at your entrance. 

“Which brings us back to the missing ingredient,” Satoru said, and a loud moan escaped you as he sheathed the full length of him inside you. He was so impossibly hard and thick, you were struggling to even clench around him. “We’ve only taken four R’s into consideration, when there’s actually a fifth… Resurrection.”

He pulled out, almost to the tip, and slammed back into you. Hard. Fast. Then he did it again, and again, and again. And each time he did it, you felt like you’d died and came back to life. 

“Because a soul can’t be regenerated,” Satoru continued as his pace increased rapidly, ruining your mind and your insides at the same time. “So, in essence, our theory is not about reversing death. It’s about resurrecting the whole self. All the intangibles that make us—fuck, baby, you’re so tight. You’re choking my cock.”

“S-Satoru…”

“Mm?”

“More… Harder…”

“God, I can’t believe I get to have you like this forever.” Satoru did as you asked, fucking you until your cries drowned out the erratic thumping of the bedhead against the wall. Until you could no longer close your mouth. Until nothing existed save the feel of him pumping deep inside you…

The way he filled you so completely, so perfectly… it was everything.

He was everything.

Stars exploded in your vision. Your climax came in swift, escalating waves, overwhelming you.

You cried out his name, and it was only then that Satoru finally gave in, driving right over the edge along with you. You felt him—all of him—spilling into you. Heard his deep, unrestrained groan as he spent himself inside you before falling on the bed, half his body still draped on top of you. 

Satoru’s mouth found yours, his tongue sweeping in and pampering you with gentle strokes while his fingers danced slow, playful circles down your spine. He grinned against your lips. “How was that, baby?”

You were still out of breath. “I think you know the answer.”

“But I want to hear you say it.”

You peered up at your fiancé. At the man who was to become your husband in less than a day. A part of you still couldn’t believe it—that someone as brilliant as him wanted you as much as you did him. That you, who had dedicated your life to science and medicine, to logic and reasoning, still couldn’t explain why you found yourself speechless whenever his gaze was fixed on you. 

So you told him the truth. “You’re incredible, Satoru.”

The smile he gave you then… you could look at that smile a billion times and still melt from it. “I hope you mean both the sex and my theory.” 

You sighed, knowing exactly where he was going with this. “Alright, five minutes. Then I’m really going to sleep, promise?”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “As you wish, my love.”

“Well, for starters, you’re talking about preserving brain activity—core consciousness—after death, not only on a cellular level. That’s notoriously tricky. Impossible, some might say, but I know you hate that word—“

“Most things are not impossible, merely improbable.”

“But brain function is quickest to deteriorate, so you’ll have to find a way to—“

“We, darling,” Satoru corrected. 

You couldn’t help your smile. “Right, so we will have to find a way to prevent core consciousness from ceasing to exist the moment the heart stops beating… save the soul, as you say, from extinction.” You tapped your chin, your mind whirring as his fingers continued their light tracing along the contours of your body. You didn’t doubt Satoru had already found the answer, but you loved him all the more for letting you figure it out on your own, even if he wasn’t letting you sleep. “The difficult part is the time constraint, unless we freeze the brain. We already have the cryogenic technology for that…”

“But?” Satoru looked at you with hopeful eyes.

“But the soul isn’t cellular. It’s immaterial.”

His answering grin told you that you were close.

“Even if we do bring back consciousness, we don’t want it to be a blank slate,” you continued. “We want it the way it was before death. We want to retain memory…” It hit you then. Your eyes widened at Satoru. “So we back it up. We copy neural activity in the brain before it dies and upload it back in later.”

Satoru leaned in, and pecked your lips as reward. “By the way, have I told you I’m crazy for you?”

You laughed. “Everyday. Don’t stop.”

“Oh, as if I will,” he said, pulling you in for yet another kiss. “You’re stuck with me for the indefinite future, baby. You’ll soon get sick of hearing it, but I’ll continue saying it anyway.”

You reached for his beautiful face.

“Never,” you said.

Satoru’s smile was tender. “I’ll hold you to that.” He kissed your palm, your lips again, and then he was pulling away to slip out of bed. 

Your brows furrowed. “I thought you promised we were going to sleep?”

“Huh? I thought you were going to sleep.” He was already pulling open the dresser drawer. “I’m going to the lab. Don’t wait up for me, okay baby?”

 “What? Are you serious?” You sat up straight now, back stiff. “Satoru, you have a wedding to attend. Our wedding. Can’t whatever it is you want to do wait for just one day?”

“I’ll meet you at the hotel. I need to make some new adjustments to the chamber. I’m thinking of calling it the Infinity Chamber. Has a nice, ring to it, no? Infinite life. Infinite time. Very mythical—”

“Satoru, don’t,” you warned. “Just forget about work for twenty four hours. That’s all I’m asking for. Please.”

“Baby, you know it’s not just work to me.”

“Then what am I? Just some girl you’re marrying?”

His hand paused midway to his backpack on the armchair. Satoru’s gaze found yours across the room.

“Is that what you think?” he said, his tone gentle but serious. “Because to me, you’re my equal. In every measure.”

“Satoru, don’t you dare walk out that door. I’ll kill you.”

“Baby, we both know you won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Then I’ll win,” he said.

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Well, I am. I’ll win because you’ll let me. Because you love me.”

He winked, and blew you a final kiss.

And then he was gone. 

Satoru never turned up at the hotel. You’d waited at the lobby for an hour, and when he hadn’t answered your call for the sixteenth time, you went to check in to the suite you thought you’d be stepping in together with him. 

As the hours until the wedding drew closer and closer, you’d finally hit the last straw of your patience and sent Suguru to the research centre to drag Satoru over. It didn’t matter if you had to marry him in his lab coat. It was better than marrying his ghost.

The call came thirty minutes before it was time for you to walk down the aisle. The guests had arrived. White roses covered every surface of the ceremony hall. You were in your gown, veil draped over your head, chewing on your lip when Suguru’s name flashed on your phone. 

You’d laughed first. You’d thought it was a joke. A bad one. Suguru had to repeat it three times before you were running to your car.

But still, you didn’t believe him. Not until you reached the lab. Not until you saw Satoru. 

They’d categorised it as an accident. The security cameras confirmed Satoru had been alone. You’d seen the time stamp. It happened while you were sleeping. He’d forgotten to turn off the main power, and was ripping out some components from the cryochamber, presumably to move to his new Infinity Chamber, when the door malfunctioned, and sealed him inside.

Hours. Satoru had been stuck in there for hours. In a temperature of minus two hundred degrees celsius, slowly freezing. His blood solidifying…

And like brittle ice, he simply broke apart.

As with every task that involved touching Satoru, you were the one who performed it. The human mind was fallible, so it was natural for them to make mistakes, but you less than others. Satoru was unmatched, of course, but since he was out of commission for the time being, the next best person you trusted was yourself.

You were not unaware that Shoko and the team, as well as every board member, had their eyes on you the moment you wheeled Satoru into the Infinity Chamber—more a tall, circular room that resembled the inside of a silo, with large lamps fixed onto the generous, three-storey high ceiling, clinical light glaring down as rigid and impersonal as the spectators watching you from above, shielded behind a circumference of glass. 

Well, you supposed ‘impersonal’ was being unkind to your team. Suguru was Satoru’s best friend, after all. Correction—he is. Perhaps unforgiving was a better word. They’d understood why you’d put all of their jobs and livelihoods on the line for this, but it didn’t mean they would forgive you for it. 

And then there was the boy. Megumi. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back as you hooked up the last of the dozens of tubes connecting Satoru to the walls of the Infinity Chamber itself, because that was what this room was—one giant machine built to execute the last of Satoru’s ‘Five R’ Principle: 

Resurrect.

You checked the tubes again, checked the wires, checked the position of the helmet fastened over Satoru’s head, then checked everything again before finally forcing yourself not to prolong this any further. You hated leaving Satoru alone, but you needed to be in the control room, and no one could be in the chamber while the procedure was taking place unless they enjoyed being electrocuted.

You went through a steel inforced door that took you up a set of winding stairs straight to the control room, where the chatter immediately died a quick death the moment you stepped in. 

No doubt they had been discussing you. Not like you gave a shit. You were used to it by now—the whispers behind your back, the glances shot your way when they thought you weren’t looking. The furrowed brows and downturned lips, and perhaps worst of all, the knowledge that none of it was out of hate but pity. 

“Doc,” Shoko nodded in greeting, the others mimicking her gesture, albeit in silence. “All screens are live. Perfusion system is loading, should be ready to go in three minutes.”

You turned to Suguru, who was positioned in front of a wide monitor, the screen filled with lines and lines of ever-shifting numbers. You asked him the same question you did everyday.

“How’s it reading?”

And Suguru answered you as how he always did. Calmly. A little bleak. “We’re still at a 0.0000033 percent loss. Nothing’s changed since the soul mapping. The system shows his neural patterns are still processing information at an unnaturally high efficiency. His consciousness is more than active, doc. It’s fully functioning, fully realised—it’s like Satoru can’t shut up in there. Typical of him, I guess.”

“We should have just made him a new body,” Nanami remarked from where he stood monitoring the blood tanks. “By my calculations, it would have lowered the risks by precisely sixteen more percent.”

“Yeah, but then we’re wasting the original body,” Haibara pointed out. “We can’t just throw him out—“

“We’re already copying his brain. I don’t see what’s the—“ Nanami cut himself off, glancing for half a second in your direction. He cleared his throat. “It’s done anyway. The best course now is to proceed as is.”

It’s all noise, baby. Block it out. Satoru spoke in your head. You have me. 

Without thinking, you walked over to the wall of thick glass. Below, Satoru lay unmoving, in the exact same position as when you’d left him. You couldn’t explain it, but even now, a tiny, microscopic part of you still thought he might just wake up on his own. As if he’d merely decided to take a very, very long nap. It was ludicrous since you were the one who had put his body back together. But when it came to Satoru, your own brain tended to override most rhyme and reason.

“Everything’s good to go,” said Shoko, pulling you from your thoughts. “Want to do the honours, doc?”

Your gaze narrowed on the small green button raised against the main control panel. You approached it, reaching out a hand, fingers hovering. 

You think I can’t do it, baby?

I think you can do anything, Toru.

Do you doubt me?

Never

“Never,” you whispered, and pushed the button.

It was as if the chamber itself had come to life. The great whir of a beastly machine waking up from an eternal slumber. Invisible currents coursed through the air inside the cylindrical shaft where Satoru lay alone, hooked up to the tubes that were now pumping synthetic blood into his body. You thought you saw him twitch. You blinked. It was just electricity. But then—

“Doc—“ It was Shoko, her tone uncharacteristically shaken. “Peripheral nerve activity detected. We're seeing reflex responses. His motor neurons are firing."

“Perfusion efficiency at ninety-two percent…ninety-three…ninety-eight...” Nanami added, similarly unable to hide his surprise. “Capillary beds are accepting the new blood flow. Oxygen saturation levels are rising steadily. No adverse reactions detected. This is… unprecedented.”

“Ah, guys…” Haibara announced. “The ECG just detected a heartbeat.”

Your breaths stilled.

“Fuck me.” Suguru jolted from his seat. “Doc, you should come see this—all of you should see this. The upload… it's working. His consciousness is downloading into the biological brain. Neural pattern fidelity is nearly perfect. I'm seeing unified brain activity. He's not just alive. He's conscious. He’s… he’s coming back—“

But while everyone rushed to Suguru’s monitor, your feet were moving in a different direction. In the next moment, you were flying back down the stairs and slamming through the door into the Infinity Chamber. 

And just as your gaze snapped to his body on the metal slab—

Satoru bolted upright.

Blue eyes, wide awake, found yours. 

Your mouth fell open.

His lips, no longer leeched of colour, parted.

Satoru blinked. Once. Twice.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Your lungs hollowed out. Disintegrated.

But then he was laughing. 

“I’m joking, baby. It’s a joke. Hey, don’t pass out, okay?”

You stared at him.

At the same time, a voice came through the chamber’s speakers.

“Oh my fucking god, Satoru. Are you serious? Of all the times, now’s not it.”

“Suguru? That you? Tch—some friend you are.” Thirty three weeks of stillness, but now Satoru was tipping his head up at the control room. “If you’d just answered when I called you, then I wouldn’t have turned into a block of ice, would I? Because I would’ve forced you to come to the lab.”

“So you do remember dying?” It was Shoko this time. 

“I remember freezing my ass off with no way out of that bloody cryochamber. Doesn’t take a genius to know what came next.”

“That’s a ninety nine percent memory retainment.” Shoko gave a low whistle. “Impressive work, doc. You did it.”

“Of course she did. She’s my—“ Satoru paused, his gaze finding yours again. “Fuuuuck… baby, I’m sorry. I missed the wedding, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer him. It was as if your mind had glitched while trying to process if this was real, or if you were actually hallucinating. If somehow, somewhere in the process of trying to bring him back to life, you’d lost your mind and ended up in the loony bin, and that all of this was happening in your head. 

“Baby, you’re shaking.” Satoru made to stand but was jerked back by the tubes connected to his body. “Ow, damn it—fuck.” He gripped a tube, about to yank it off, but then had the common sense to drop it when he saw blood still pumping into him. His arms reached out towards you. “Come here, baby. It’s me… I promise.”

But before your feet could decide to function, the door to the chamber opened. Two figures strode in. Both, you recognised. Both, you could do without seeing.

“Huh, so you’re actually alive.” Sukuna picked off some imaginary dust from his creaseless suit, his tone managing to sound both amused and scathing all at once. “I was expecting some sort of trickery. A hologram, maybe. At most, a robot. Who knows what they’ll come up with to prevent the board from selling this place off.”

Satoru snorted. “You’re lucky there were cameras, or I would’ve found a way to frame you for my murder. And a robot? How insulting. No one can be me but me.”

“Evidently. A robot would know when to stop talking.”

A step behind Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi stood glaring. Not at Satoru, but at you.

He looked more dishevelled than last you’d seen him during the reading of Satoru’s will, in which a mini skirmish had broken out among Satoru’s relatives—who hadn’t bothered showing their faces until that day—when the Gojo family’s lawyer had announced that the entirety of Satoru’s assets were to be split equally between you and Megumi. An adopted son and a not-yet-wife.

And like you, Megumi hadn’t given a flying fuck about the inheritance. What he did care about was the one clause Satoru had somehow had the foresight to include in his will. That the decision on what to do with his body would be solely up to you. Satoru’s own messed up way of showing you he meant it when he’d once told you, “I belong to you.”

Megumi had wanted a funeral. You didn’t. Megumi had wanted to say his goodbyes. You didn’t. Megumi didn’t want Satoru to be tampered with, to be experimented with. You didn’t see it that way. And that was how your relationship with the boy had soured to this point. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he said to you. He might as well have spat in your face. 

Satoru must have sensed the tension, because he immediately dropped his verbal sparring with Sukuna. “Oh? What seems to be the problem, Megumi-chan? I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

But Megumi wouldn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed on you like daggers slicing into your skin. “The Gojo Satoru I know is dead. This…thing you created—with fake blood and a fake brain—“ he laughed, bitterly. “And now you’re pretending he’s real? What a load of bullshit.”

He didn’t wait for a reply and stormed out of the chamber. 

“He’ll come around,” Satoru said, but still, he’d winced. “Alright, welcome party’s over, everyone. As nice as I am to look at, I don’t really want to sit here naked with my dick hanging out for much longer. So if all of you could kindly piss off, that would be amazing. I’d like a moment with my wife, please.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Well, if you’re in good condition to yap incessantly, then I expect you’ll be in good condition for a board meeting tomorrow. Ten o’clock. Don’t die and be late again.” And with that, he was out the door. 

Shoko’s voice spoke through the speakers. “We’re going to stop the perfusion, Satoru. It should be safe to remove the tubes. But me and the team will need to stick around in case of anything… unforeseen. Just pretend we’re not here.”

The whirring of machines faded, steeping the chamber in a new silence. Once again, you were alone with Satoru. But this time, you’d finally accepted he was truly breathing. 

“Baby? Talk to me.” Satoru flashed you a nervous smile. “You haven’t said a word.”

You moved.

And the moment you did, you couldn’t stop. 

You reached for him. Your hands were on his face, moving down his neck, his chest. Over the very real beat of his heart. And when you felt his hand on yours, the pressure of his very real touch, your voice broke.

“I—we should try taking the tubes out.”

It was lame. You should have told him you missed him. You should have told him all the things you wanted to tell him in the months he lay lifeless while you pieced him back together. How you refused to let a single drop of tear roll down your cheek, because it would mean that you had something to cry about. How the entire research centre thought grief had turned you into some mad scientist who was obsessed with creating your very own Frankenstein, and that you almost believed them… almost.

But you didn’t tell him those things. Because those things no longer mattered.

Slowly, you removed the tubes from him one by one. Satoru just sat there, watching you work, his fingers playing with your hair, grazing down the back of your neck, applying gentle caresses here and there until the last of the tubes were gone. 

“Try standing up,” you said, your voice too thick to hide the emotions threatening to burst out from within you. “I need to check your sense of balance.”

Satoru nodded and wasted no time hopping off the table onto his feet. He grinned, and did a little spin. Like he was modelling for you. “Nice stitching, baby. I think I prefer myself like this—adds a lot of character, you know?”

“I’ll get you some clothes.”

But he caught your wrist then, pulling you tight against him. His arms enveloped you, fingers lifting your chin to meet his gaze. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, stroking your cheek. 

The way he spoke, softly, his cadence perfect and familiar and exactly as you remembered—it really was him.

Your lips trembled, betraying you as you peered up at him. 

“Never again, Satoru,” you said. “Okay?”

He leaned in. “I promise, baby.”

And when his mouth brushed against yours… when you parted your lips, feeling his tongue sweep inside you, meeting his every stroke and caress with your own… it was like everything that had been blocking up your insides for so long—the sand in your lungs, the pain in your chest, the hollow pit in your stomach—all of it became but a distant memory. 

Your kisses grew hungry. You couldn’t stop touching him. You needed to bottle up all of his warmth and preserve every ounce of this moment because you couldn’t bear to lose another second with him. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmured against your lips. “Easy, baby. I’m right here.”

A smile cracked through some forgotten place in you. “Well, deal with it. All my kisses have been one-sided for months.”

“I bet I still taste good dead.”

“That’s not funny, Satoru.”

He laughed. “We’ll see if it is sixty years from now.”

“Why sixty?”

He grinned, and then he was pulling you in for another kiss. “That’s what husbands and wives do, don’t they? Grow old together.”

Like wildfire, news of the scientist who died and came back to life spread across the globe, saturating every media outlet, baffling entire religions, upending the medical world and whatever long held beliefs they had been preaching on the subject of mortality. 

The headlines were calling it a miracle. Churches called it blasphemy. The medical journals were split between praise and skepticism. The National Registration Department had never had to rescind a death certificate eight months after registering it. Gojo Satoru, billionaire scientist, child prodigy, TIME 100 most influential individual, the world’s sexiest man alive for six years running, and former corpse, had become a global sensation as the man who had defied death. 

And you were right there in the spotlight alongside him. Satoru had made sure of it, insisting that your name was listed first in the accreditation for his now infamous Theory of Resurrection. Whenever he was asked, Satoru always drove in the fact that though he was the mastermind behind it, you were the one who saw it to the finish line.

“Execution is worth infinitely more than mere ideas,” he’d point out in all the interviews while refusing to let go of your hand.

Naturally, with any bizarre phenomenon came the conspiracies. There were those who accused Satoru of not being human, instead believing he was some kind of top secret, hi-tech artificial intelligence the government was testing out as a weapon for modern warfare. The ufologists’ deductions were much simpler—that extraterrestrial beings had abducted Satoru, conducted experiments, and placed him back on earth as one of them. 

In answer to these wild accusations, Satoru had only one reply. “Whether I’m an alien or the Terminator, at least I’m a damn good looking one.”

Well, if there was a truth you could confirm, it was that he still fucked you like a feral beast.

After three weeks of monitoring at the research centre, Shoko and the team had determined Satoru’s condition as stable, and the board finally allowed him to return home with you. The moment the both of you stepped through the front door, it was like Satoru was a man on a mission.

“To make up for lost time,” he said as he tore off your clothes, and took you against the wall. “It’s lucky you didn’t have to sew my cock back on as well.”

“If you’d lost it, I wouldn’t have brought you back—ahn!”

He laughed as he thrusted deep into you, filling you up so completely, making you take in every inch of him until there was no doubt that he was here to stay. Inside you. With you. “And here I am thinking you fell for my incredible mind.”

“It’s—nghh—Toru, you’re…”

“What is it, baby?” Another thrust. Your moans filled the foyer. “Tell me, what am I?”

“Everything,” you breathed. “You’re everything, Satoru…”

His gaze softened, and when his lips found yours, his kiss was tender. Warm. 

Alive. 

You let him pick you up, clinging onto him as he carried you to the bedroom and gently laid you on the sheets. You didn’t let go. Not when he sheathed himself in you again. Not as his mouth claimed every part of you as if he never wanted to forget the very shape of you. Not while your bodies moved in sync together, while you cried out his name over and over again as he brought you to the edge, and went right over it together with you. 

You still didn’t let go as your head rested in the crook of his arm, your palm on his chest, over his beating heart. Your fingers traced the thick gash spanning across his stomach. It was still too early to remove the stitches, but he was healing up nicely. You wanted to believe scars could be beautiful, too.

“You can close your eyes, baby. It’s alright.”

You peered up at Satoru, not understanding at first. 

“You’re exhausted,” he said. “I bet you haven’t properly slept since—“

“Don’t, Toru. I’ve heard that word enough. I don’t need you saying it too.”

“Then what do you me want to call it?”

“You didn’t—you were just absent. That’s all.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Satoru trailed his fingers down the curve of your back. “And I’m going to marry you. We’ll have that wedding I stupidly ruined. We’ll take that trip to Paris and never see the sights, because I’ll be fucking you so well you won’t want to leave the hotel.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “What about all the improvements you want to make to the Infinity Chamber? It’s going to be a tight schedule. All the major hospitals have already placed their orders, and Sukuna wants to release the first commercial model by early next year—“

“Baby, if there’s one thing I learnt from dy—my absence, it’s my priorities. Work can wait. Never you. Never again.”

You hugged him tighter. “Is that a promise I’m hearing, Gojo Satoru?”

He beamed. “I don’t have to promise anything, baby. I’ll show you. Just sit back and see for yourself, I’ll—“

Satoru paused. His brows furrowed.

“Toru?” Your smile vanished as he suddenly jerked upright, and stumbled out of bed.

Satoru was coughing. The coughing turned into heaving. He was doubled over, clutching his stomach. 

Red spilled out his mouth. Globs of it, fresh and dark, splattering across the white carpet.

Someone was screaming.

It was you.

Of all the fucking things that had to go wrong, why did it have to be his immune system?

Your jaw was tight as you read the report, your eyes burning holes into the file as if you could force the words to magically reshuffle and change the diagnosis. 

But nothing changed. Satoru was dying. Again.

“We’ll rush a stem cell transplantation,” you said. “We’ll develop new immunosuppressants. We’ll—“

“Those treatments take time, doc,” replied Shoko. You hated the tone she was using. It was too gentle. Too final. The kind of tone doctors used when they were required to deliver bad news to patients. “If it were a normal autoimmune disease, we’d probably have a chance. But Satoru isn’t normal. At the rate his immune system is attacking… it’s like a war inside him. His body is shutting down too rapidly—“

“How long?” you asked, already knowing the answer. But your brain refused to accept it, instead seeking out someone, anyone, who might tell you otherwise.

The team fell silent. 

“He won’t last the hour,” Suguru finally said. “I’m sorry, doc.”

You pitched the file across the Infinity Chamber. The papers came loose, flapping about midair before scattering soundlessly onto the floor. On the operating table where Satoru lay motionless, those blue eyes lost under closed lids. Unseeing. 

He’d fallen into a coma before the ambulance arrived. Simply keeled over, face down in a pool of his own regurgitated blood. No hospital would be able to treat him, so you’d screamed at the paramedics to take him straight to the research centre. Everyone had seen his face on the news, and it didn’t take much convincing for them to oblige your demand.

His skin was greying again. The pink in his cheeks, his lips, had faded to an ashen pallor. His breaths were waning. Those fucking tubes were stuck in him once more.

“Brain activity is flatlining,” Nanami reported, his expression grave. He added, quietly, “You might want a moment alone with him, doc. He can’t respond, but he can still hear you.” 

Your fists were balled, nails puncturing through the skin of your palms. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

This wasn’t happening. You weren’t going to let it happen. 

You weren’t going to fucking say goodbye.

“Activate the resurrection procedure,” you said. “Now.”

Someone touched your shoulder. You flinched back.

Shoko’s hand retreated. “Doc,” she said, carefully. “We never calculated for a second time. It’s too much. The process will fry his organs. The synthetic blood might destroy his natural cells.”

You spared her a single glance. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

No one moved at first. Then, Haibara spoke. 

“She wants to try, guys.” He wouldn’t meet your eyes as he said it. “We should let her try.”

A sigh. You didn’t know from who. You didn’t care.

“Everyone to the control room,” said Shoko. “Nanami, reduce perfusion speed by half. Suguru, watch the reading—the moment his consciousness hits zero, we’re uploading immediately. Haibara, see if you can block some of the electro current. Satoru’s still alive. We want to jolt his system, not subject him to an electric chair. Doc—“

“I’m staying in the chamber,” you said. 

“It’s not safe—“

“It will be if you block a portion of the electro current, which you are. Either way, I’m not leaving him.”

“If we’re going to do this, we should get moving,” said Suguru. “We have less than an hour now, and I’ll have to recalibrate the neural mapping.”

There was nothing to recalibrate and you knew it. Shoko might not have given up on you, but Suguru had accepted the fact that convincing you to do anything else was a lost cause. You suspected he’d understood this a long time ago. He was the one who had found Satoru in the cryochamber, after all. The one who had to call you while you waited in your wedding dress. 

But you didn’t need him to understand. You didn’t need a friend. You didn’t need compassion. 

You needed Satoru back.

The team left you alone and hurried to the control room upstairs. You positioned yourself beside the operating table, and waited your second eternity. But you were used to waiting by now. You’d waited for him to offer you a spot on his research team, waited for him to notice you as more than an assistant, waited for him to ask you out for a quick lunch at that dingy sandwich joint staff liked to go to when they were sick of cafeteria food…

You waited for him to love you. So death could go fuck itself if it thought it could rip Satoru away from you after you’d spent all this time waiting.

You counted each shallow rise and fall of his chest. Saw the moment it stopped moving before the machines around you started buzzing. You stood, numb, as the chamber you’d finished building—not for humanity’s advancement but for one person—came alive around you in a flurry of mechanical droning. 

All the while, you watched him. Until you chewed the inside of your cheeks raw and your vision blurred from refusing to blink. Until you spotted the twitch of his finger. A fluttering of long, white lashes. 

Satoru groaned. His eyes flew open, then he was fumbling upright. 

A small cry escaped you, and then you were holding him. 

“It’s alright,” you said when he looked at you, dazed and confused. “You’re alright now.”

“I…” Satoru hesitated. “Where am I?”

“At the research centre. You had an accident, but everything’s okay now. You’re okay.”

“I see. I think I remember. Just… give me a moment. My head feels like someone cracked it open with a hammer.”

You helped him to unstrap the helmet, and draped your lab coat over him. Continued to hold him steady as he studied the tubes running out his body.

“So I died,” he said. 

“For a short while, yes.” 

“And you brought me back.”

“I always will, Satoru.”

Those blue eyes searched yours. 

“You’re very beautiful,” he said. “But I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Satoru, I told you it’s not funny.”

He blinked. “Right, ah… so I do know you. I mean, it feels like I do. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”

You stared at him.

Satoru stared back. “Shit. I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”

The speaker crackled. A grim voice cut through the chamber.

“Doc. Satoru…” Suguru sounded too calm. “So this is what’s going to happen—I’m going to read you the diagnosis, and then me and the team… we’ll wait for your decision. But, doc, I think this time you should let Satoru decide.”

Suguru didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “You died twice, Satoru. We brought you back using your Theory of Resurrection. Do you remember your theory?”

For a long moment, Satoru didn’t speak. His eyes darted from you up to the control room above, and then around the chamber, assessing. Processing. As if a flurry of information was running through his head at lighting speed to reach a conclusion. 

“I think I understand now,” he said, slowly. “And I can guess where this is going. Whoever you are, give it to me straight—and don’t bother explaining my theory. I know what I created.”

Silence.

“We couldn’t recover a portion of your memory, Satoru. Your body is rejecting the neural upload… among other things.”

“Please, I forgot some things. I’m not an idiot.” Satoru’s gaze settled back on you, on the matching rings on both your fourth fingers. He mustered a grin. “Well, at least I was lucky enough to find someone like you, even if I can’t remember how.”

You didn’t know when you’d started shaking. 

Suguru spoke. “Satoru… your body is shutting down. The synthetic blood we’re pumping in is keeping you functioning for now, but the moment we shut off the tubes, you’ll—“

“I’ll die,” Satoru finished. “Took you long enough to say it. Kind of figured that out since I woke up feeling like shit.”

“Your consciousness is currently at thirty three percent retainment. We can try to bring you back again, but from the reading, retainment percentage will only go down. You’ll probably lose another fifteen percent if we go through with a third procedure.” Suguru’s voice hitched. “I—listen Satoru… even if we succeed, you won’t be yourself.”

“Again, Mr. Obvious, I’m not an idiot. And I can hear you sniffling, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Suguru. We’re friends.”

“Well, Suguru, if we’re really friends, then I think you know what to do.”

“No,” you whispered. Then louder. “No. That’s not what we’re doing. We’re not going to—“

“Hey, come here.” You froze as Satoru took your hands in his, gently pulling you closer. He shifted, wincing as he stood, and wrapped you in his arms. 

The world slipped away from under your feet. There was only him. Soft, white hair falling over deep blue eyes. His pale, tired face, still perfect. The pressure of his hands around your waist, lifting to cup your cheek. The stroke of his fingers against your skin. The way he was looking at you, like he…

“I’m sorry, baby.” His lips were on yours as he spoke. “Do you hate me?”

At last, you broke. Your face crumpled. Your composure went. You stopped caring if he could feel your body shudder. 

“Never,” you said.

“Do you love me?”

Your laugh was bitter. “I can’t believe you’re even asking that.”

You felt his fingers tighten a fraction around your waist. “Then, do you know that I love you?”

“I—“you could barely choke the word out. Because the truth of it was more than you could handle. It was easier to beg. So you did. “Please don’t leave me.”

Satoru’s smile was oddly relaxed. Almost relieved. As if he’d lost something important and had found it. “I’ll still be around, if you want me to. Right here,” he said, and gently tapped the side of your head. “As long as you live, so do I.”

“It’s not the same.” Your vision blurred. “It’s not—it’s not everything. It’s not you...”

“My love, you know as well as I do that I won’t be me even if I stay.” He kissed you. Kissed away the damp streaks flowing down your cheeks. Gently. Slowly. 

“I’ll find a way,” you tried again. “There’s always a way. Nothing’s impossible, only improbable. That’s what you told me. There has to be another—“

“You’re right, there always is. Doesn’t mean you should go searching for it.”

“No. I refuse.” You were shaking your head violently. “Don’t do this to me. If you don’t want to try, I will. I’ll fix it. All you have to do is wait. I won’t stop—“

He hugged you tighter. You felt his lips on your hair.

“Look at me, baby.”

You screwed your eyes shut. If you couldn’t see the what was written so clearly on his face, then it wasn’t true.

“Please, baby,” Satoru said, lifting your chin. “I want to get a good look at what my soul cannot deny.” 

You wanted to scream. You wanted to hit him. You wanted to burn down this whole fucking place, with you and him in it, so you wouldn’t have to live through what was coming next. So you wouldn’t have to feel yourself tearing apart inside.

Not yet. It wasn’t enough. The time you were given with him was simply too short. It should be more. It should be sixty more years like he promised. 

You weren’t ready to let him go. 

But you knew you had to. Because it was what he wanted. Because he didn’t want you to lose him slowly. Because he was losing himself. Because he couldn’t be brilliant without his memory. Because he would no longer be Gojo Satoru, and he didn’t want you seeing it. 

Because he loved you.

You looked into his eyes… the eyes you once thought you’d be looking at forever.

“There’s my girl.” Satoru’s smile destroyed you. “Better holes in my brain than yours, because I don’t want you forgetting I’m yours. In every lifetime. Can you do that? Can you remember that for me?“

 It was the same before, and it was the same now. You would do anything for him. So you nodded, and told him what he wanted to hear. “You’re too much for me to forget so easily, Satoru.”

  He laughed and kissed you again, long and slow, and for a moment, nothing existed but the warmth of him that filled you. 

“Come here, baby,” he said. “Let me hold you.”

You let him pick you up and place you on the metal slab. You laid down with him, your head on his chest like how you always fell asleep, curled up against him. Your legs tangled with his, his arm under and around you. Your hand in his, where it belonged. 

You couldn’t say how long you stayed like that. Talking. You told him about the day you met, how he’d asked you to marry him one random morning to make you feel better about the coffee machine breaking down. He laughed and told you that he must be quite a catch for you to say yes to such a lame proposal. Then he told you his vows—the vows for a wedding you would never have. 

Somewhere in between, Satoru must have signalled for Suguru to stop the perfusion because the whirring in the chamber faded. You ignored the silence. There was only him. His voice. The press of his body against yours. His fingers wrapped in yours as you moved yourself up, placing your face so close to his that his features became indistinct, and you began to lose yourself in them. 

You held him as he slipped away. As his chest slowed and his skin turned cold. You told him it was okay for him to close his eyes, and right before he did, you told him you loved him. 

You held him long after his heart stopped beating. Long after the team had left and your muscles had gone stiff from lack of movement. Long after his soul had departed to a place you couldn’t reach. And when you finally let go of him, it was to pick up the metal helmet from the floor. 

You placed it over your head, and sat back down beside him.

“System override,” you said, your voice calm. Flat. “Password: Replacement.”

Satoru was wrong. He’d theorised Five R’s, ending with resurrection. He never considered a sixth. But you did. You’d figured out the final ‘R’ to the equation.

A computerised voice droned through the speaker. “System override. Affirmative. Existing consciousness detected. Permission to erase for remapping.”

“Permission granted.”

“Affirmative. Accessing stored neural data for replacement. Confirm subject.”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Affirmative. Neural data for subject, Gojo Satoru, confirmed for replacement with existing consciousness. Requesting password for final permission.”

Your gaze fell on Satoru. You took his hands in yours, and brought them to your lips. 

“Never,” you said. 

“Password confirmed. Neural replacement loading. Erasing existing consciousness in ten… nine… eight…”

You loosened a great breath. 

You’d proven his theory. You’d succeeded. If you could not give him everything, then you would give him you.

His soul would live.

Even if yours couldn’t.

Anyway, it wasn’t like yours could exist without him.

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“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” you turned over in the uncomfortable seat until he could see nothing except the back of your head. “Which will be any day now by the looks of things.”

“You think I’m gonna let that happen?” Satoru ran a hand through his messy white head of hair. “We’re gonna make it to the refugee center, don’t you worry. I’ll get you there even if it kills me. If traffic hasn’t gotten better by sunrise, then we’ll just . . . abandon the car and start walking. Cardio’s good for the heart, so they say.”

Are you stupid? You want us to walk around with no protection, knowing that those things are out there? I’d rather stay trapped in the car! And I don’t think living off saltine crackers for who knows how long is good for the heart, so screw cardio. Now isn’t the time to make jokes. God, you annoy me.

That was what you thought. That was what you wished you could spew out verbally, but you only shifted a bit, and said, “My safety isn’t your responsibility, Satoru. Not anymore.”

“Are you being for real? You think that with everything going on right now, everything we just witnessed back home . . . you think that us being broken up matters in the grand scheme of things? Baby, come on.” He stared at the back of your head as he spoke. When seconds of silence passed, he tapped his hand against the top of the steering wheel and sighed out of pure frustration. “If I see one of those fucking monsters attack you, I’ll just let it happen since you’re my ex-girlfriend, and that apparently matters in a life or death situation. That’s what you want, right?”

You still didn’t respond. Not for a long time. There was a book in your hand, and you clenched it tightly.

The chatter and footsteps from outside the car felt uncomfortably loud in the midst of that unsettling quietness.

Say something, Satoru thought, resting his elbow on the driver’s seat door. You turned around in your seat. Your blanket fell from around your shoulders, drifting down to your waist.

“You’re missing my point, as per usual. I’m trying to figure out, why me? We broke up three years ago. Three years. And our town? It got overrun two days ago. Everyone had to grab food and water and their loved ones and get the hell out as quickly as possible. So why did you take the time to find me? Out of everyone else in your life, why’d you show up at my doorstep, desperate to save your ex?”

“Because I still love you more than anyone else in my life. Isn’t that obvious?” Satoru smiled sadly.

Your eyes met his for the first time in what felt like three years.

“What? Did you think I was going to say something different?” Satoru stated as if his earlier confession was an obvious fact: The sky is blue. Two plus two equals four. And I’m still in love with you.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you mumbled, and rolled over in the seat yet again. “Don’t get any mixed ideas. The second we get to the refugee, shelter place, whatever- we’re done. One hundred percent finished. We’ll part ways for good. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Satoru unfolded a piece of ancient work unbeknownst to most of society due to the arrival of technology: a map. “Loud and clear.”

— THREE DAYS LATER —

The Safe Place, as some called it, could more accurately be named a madhouse.

Traffic never moved forward. Many fellow stuck civilians had all gathered on the highway, Satoru among them, and agreed that they all had a better chance of dying than seeing the countless amount of cars piled up along the roads finally start to move forward.

And, eventually, just as water was starting to become a memory and the first signs of dehydration had your head spinning — the summer heat you walked in for days did you no favors — you all stumbled upon a crowded, one-level building with people spilling out of the doors, fighting for their right to retrieve whatever was inside. Food. A bed. Clean clothes. Water.

All the things you so desperately wanted.

Armed guards prevented the massive wave of people from entering the shelter. But getting shot didn’t seem as scary as not being allowed entry to some, and they still tried to fight their way inside.

“I have three kids! Please, please let us in, sir,” one woman cried.

You and Satoru were further back in line, and you could only make out the back of her messy head of hair, but you heard the guard she argued with quite clearly.

“We’re at max capacity. Hell, past that now, lady. There’s nothin’ I can do for ya, ‘m sorry.”

His words sparked a wave of panic. All at once, people began to shout. To push forward.

“What do you mean you’re full?”

“You’re going to leave us out here to die like animals?”

“Let us in!”

“We have a right to live, you piece of shit!”

The unsettling bodies were pressing against yours, pressing you and Satoru together, so much so that it became hard to breathe. One man roughly knocked you off your feet as he made his way past you in line. Large hands caught you before you hit the ground and became the new stomping mat of the riot slowly starting to come about.

Satoru straightened you up. He gripped your shoulders to steady you, and he said, “We gotta get out of here now.”

“And go where?”

Satoru could barely hear your response. But he didn’t have to. He knew you, and he knew you’d ask the most logical question there was to utter amidst the chaos.

“We’ll find-”

His words, which held no meaning anyway, were interrupted by the sound of two gunshots, followed by a fresh explosion of shrieks and cries. People ducked instinctively.

The guard who shot one person in the chest and another in the stomach did so as a way of sending a crystal clear message: calm down and stop trying to enter the shelter, or this is what you’ll get.

Your ex-boyfriend’s blue eyes started to flicker at various things, and you knew what he was doing. He was thinking. It was the face he made while grading poorly-written student essays, or figuring out the best way to apologize to you after showing up an hour past the date-night reservations you made, seeing you stand outside of a fancy restaurant, having eaten without him, a book in hand because you knew he’d screw this up. You were all alone.

All of the guards are distracted right now. I could sneak her in. No . . . if she gets caught, they’ll shoot her. Not to mention she could get trampled just from trying to make it to the front . . . shit.

But where would we go? See if we can find a car and avoid that mess of a highway? Pray the next town over wasn’t somehow hit with whatever the hell ours was hit with? What the hell is going on? No one knows, not really.

Large, skeptical hands turned you around and started to guide you out of the chaotic crowd. It wasn’t easy. Satoru used his height to his advantage, but even he nearly stumbled and fell over more times than he could count.

Your ribs ached from elbows unintentionally slamming into them. The thumping in your head? Well, that was for a number of reasons. Getting hit, being thirsty, and coming to terms with the reality of the situation: there was nowhere for you to go.

—

“I’m just saying. I haven’t seen any dead people. Are we sure this isn’t one big social experiment?” Your words were soft, and without amusement.

Satoru might not have remembered what kind of flowers you preferred, but he recognized the tones of your voice, and you weren’t speaking out of disbelief, rolling your eyes as you chalked it all up to a conspiracy theory, but out of desperate hope.

The smoldering flames of the dying fire that sat between you and Satoru illuminated that very hope in your eyes as you continued to speak.

“J-Just think about it. We all saw the news go on and on about this disease. Next thing we know, everyone in our town is panicking and fleeing, but . . . I just think that for all this outrage, I’d have seen a dead person come back to life and start eating people by now with my own eyes.”

“I have.”

It seemed as if the darkness of the night that surrounded you both, so unsheltered among the side of the open road, had grown all the more dark. Over a day had passed since you both tried to enter the madhouse- no, shelter. It was a shelter.

The neighboring town was still as clean and polished as it had been a week ago, when Satoru strolled down the people-filled streets in his car on the way to his favorite dessert shop.

The only difference was that, now, the only souls that seemed to linger around were his and yours. Not even the souls of the dead that had started to rise, apparently.

Satoru summed up that bittersweet luck to the fact that this town more than likely evacuated before yours did. All of its citizens were, perhaps, the ones who crowded the refugee camp, so much so that the people of your town weren’t allowed entry.

And you had a point.

If it wasn’t for the fact that, before Satoru arrived on your doorstep several days ago, he saw what he saw, he might have found truth in your accusation.

“Who turned? Was it your parents? A friend?”

“A student,” he mumbled.

“Oh.”

Satoru thought that little hum of yours marked the end of the conversation, and the sounds of crackling wood filled the silence for a moment. Then, you continued to ask, “What happened?”

His jaw clenched.

Why would you ask me that? He thought.

“It’s not really a subject for polite conversation,” Satoru said with a seriousness that was quite unusual. Even during past arguments when you begged and prayed and pleaded for him to listen, listen, and listen. To wipe that smug smirk off of his face and fucking listen, never before had he seemed so cold. All the light left his eyes, as if he were the one who died, and not his student.

“All you need to know is that it’s real, just as dangerous as they say, and . . . I don’t think . . .” he paused, as if to choose his next words carefully. “I think that, come sunrise, we should prioritize finding weapons just as much as food and water. It might even be more important.”

“What? No way. Weapons are important, but it’s been days since the so-called outbreak, I haven’t seen one, so . . . maybe they aren’t all that common. We might have a better chance of coming across a wild bear, so I think the knife I grabbed from my kitchen will be just fine. Food first.”

“Your dull knives could barely even chop through an onion. If that’s all the protection we have, we’re as good as dead.”

“Okay, since you’re an expert on apocalypses," you yawned, lying down on the cold, hard patch of grass beside the road, “why didn’t you think to grab any weapons before grabbing your ex?”

“I’m a high school teacher, not part of the military. What weapons did you think I would’ve had?”

“That old baseball bat in your garage, your kitchen knives which, apparently, are oh so sharp and cool, um . . . a leg off of your dining room table, anything. But, you were too focused on being a hero, hm?”

“Alright, I get it.” Satoru rolled up the sleeves of his dirty, unbuttoned blue shirt. “You wish I left you behind, you don’t want anything to do with me, blah blah blah-”

“See? You’re a grown man saying blah blah blah, dismissing my feelings, and you wonder why I’d rather take my chances on my own.”

“You know, I didn’t drag you out of your house and force you into my car. You came out of your own free will.”

You frowned. “Well, I’m not an idiot, am I? I’m forever pissed at you, but I’m not stupid enough to turn down a ride out of a town falling apart. I thought that once we found a safe place, it would be safe enough for us to split up, but that didn’t work out, sooo here I am, still stuck with you until we do find a safe place and I can say goodbye to you forever, because, like I said, I’m not an idiot.”

It was silent for a moment. You wanted to break eye contact with him. Let your words reign true, that was it, that was that.

But you could only stare at the sadness suddenly possessing his dirty face. The corner of his lips pointed downward. His eyes glistened as if tears would fall from them with the simplest blink. “You hate me that much?” He whispered. “Were you that miserable with me?”

“I wasn’t miserable with you, I was miserable without you. You were never there when I needed you.”

“I’m here now.”

“I don’t need or want you now.”

“Yes, you do.” Satoru darted his gaze down to the dying flames. “You just admitted that you need me until you find a safe place. You’re using me, and I’m just gonna let you, ‘cause I know if I don’t, you’ll die.”

“You think I’d die without you? The high school teacher who couldn’t even remember to call me back, show up for dates, or that it was my birthday until late at night when you finally would piece together why I’d been rolling my eyes at you all day long? Please. Being with you for now is better than being alone, but I’d do just fine without you. Always have.”

You rolled over then, but the conversation wasn’t quite finished. Satoru’s voice that sounded from behind you took on a tone so dark, so low — it was almost frightening.

“You really don’t get it. Guess it’s ‘cause you haven’t seen it before, yeah? People are getting sick, slowly dying, slowly losing every part of themselves, but not all at once. They come back from the dead and can still kinda piece together who they are at first, but all of that gets overshadowed by this desire to eat people. I went to check on my student who hadn’t been to school for a while. Our families are close and whatnot, so I was worried about him. He was sick. Everyone thought it was the flu. But when I showed up, he was sitting at his desk, dead. Chest wasn’t moving. He was just . . . dead. And you know how good of a student he was? Even though he was sick, he was still trying to finish his essay. I saw the stupid pieces of paper underneath his head. He, uh, he was dead, but, after a while, we saw him start to move. I thought that, maybe, his body was just naturally trying to fall out of the chair, ya know? Oh, was I wrong. He stood up. His eyes opened, he turned around, and he came straight for me. I had to . . . anyway, after, I thought it was weird that, even though his parents and sister were closer, he came straight for me. Then, I looked down, and I saw that his essay was in his hands. He might have been trying to eat me, but I think . . . I think in Megumi’s mind, he thought he was just giving his teacher his essay.” Satoru saw your body stiffen as he recounted his tale. His misery. “Point is, it took all of my strength, his step-mom’s, and his dad’s, to get him off of me, and he had been freshly turned for not even thirty seconds. I can’t imagine the strength and bloodlust of one that’s been turned longer. So, for you to say you don’t need or want me because of relationship drama that no longer matters in the face of all this goddamn bullshit is ridiculous.”

You wanted to move your body, as the hard ground you tried to imagine was your warm bed had started to make your bone ache terribly, but despite the warm weather, it felt as though your limbs were frozen. His words, paralyzing.

“You treated me like shit when all I tried to do was love you. What happens when I’m the one slowing you down? What happens if we’re low on food and there isn’t enough for both of us? You keep saying it doesn’t matter anymore, but you expect me to believe the man who always forgot about me will have my back now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to bed.”

Despite your words, you rose from the ground, messy boots scraping against the rocky grass as you started to walk away.

“Woah, woah, where are you going?” Satoru hopped up.

“Just further down the road. I think you and I could benefit from a little distance,” you said, stepping away from him.

He reached out to grab your wrist. “Now you’re just being stupid-”

“Oh, fuck off, Satoru! I’m an adult, I can do what I want!” The explosion of anger scared you more than it scared him. The rise of every bit of heartbreak you still hadn’t yet healed from had bubbled to the surface, and you snatched your wrist away from him as if his touch burned your skin. “I bet you’re happy about this situation because you have a chance to force me back into your life and treat me like your little fucking pet again, but you know what? Here.” You reached for your bags. By now, your supplies and his supplies had become one, mixed together in either bag, because, well, you were together, after all. But you started to toss everything that he claimed as his out of your backpack. “Take your stale crackers, your fucking clothes, your stupid photo album, just take it all back. I’m done.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, not bothering to close it.

He tried to call your name, tried to grab ahold of you, but you wouldn’t have it. And he couldn’t force you to stay put, could he? You were no longer his.

Satoru stared at the fire well into the night, long enough for a reasonable amount of time to pass in which you’d hopefully cool off.

It was no different than sitting on the couch, waiting until you unlocked the bedroom door after one of his great, big, fuck-ups.

He stood and started walking. It was quite dark beyond the small fire he created. The only other light that guided his path shone down upon him from the full moon, but it was barely enough.

He didn’t expect you to come back to his spot. You said you were going to sleep. But he couldn’t even blink properly out of the pure anxiety crawling up his throat over not knowing your whereabouts.

I’m just gonna check on her, get yelled at probably, then I’ll go back to my spot, he thought.

But with every step he took in the direction you stomped off in, he only saw trees. The road. Grass. The moon. The stars.

Never you.

He called your name quite a few times, but nothing came of it. Only chirping crickets answered him.

—

Walking was a great way to work through one’s stress, so they say. That was how you found yourself entering the abandoned, picturesque town in the dead of night, around two or three miles up the road.

You couldn’t remember entering an abandoned library. Perhaps, with the cloud of anger hanging over you, you no longer thought about the state of the world. You only knew a library or bookstore was often your source of comfort during dark moments, and much to your surprise, the doors to this one opened with one tug of your arm.

There was an awkward maneuver of slinging your bag around and digging through it to fetch your flashlight — the moon and stars no longer able to service you, not in here — but you got it, flicked it on, and there it was.

A countless amount of dusty novels that were left behind by their townsfolk in search of food or medicine. You grabbed one without bothering to check for the author or an eye-catching synopsis. Anything would do. Absolutely anything.

The carpeted floor seemed cozy enough. Warm enough. You sat down nearest one of the bookcases, shone your flashlight upon the inked words, and started to read.

Half an hour had passed before you were awakened by the sounds of groans and growls. You dozed off while reading. Waking up in a rather disorienting state with complete blackness surrounding you made you forget what kind of noises you heard. You only remembered that you heard something.

“‘Toru?” You called out softly.

Some noises sounded human. As in, the poor soul making those noises hadn’t yet been too far gone. But some had. Some were no longer capable of making noises that resembled the person they once were. But in truth, as you grabbed your flashlight and shone it forward, the small herd of people — no, these weren’t people — they were monsters. Animals. Dead. Hungry. Able to rip you apart limb from limb, and they made their way into the library through the door you forgot to shut behind you, and started to approach you.

“Oh my god,” you cried, tossing your trembling hand over your mouth.

You started to scramble to your feet. No time to search for that dull kitchen knife.

“Run!”

The shout belonged to Satoru. You knew it. But you couldn’t pinpoint his location, not daring to snatch your flashlight away from the ungodly things headed right for you.

Going through the entrance was impossible — that was their way in.

Your only hope was for another exit — it was a public building. There had to be another.

With your unwelcomed company on your tail, you tried to find a door, an exit sign, anything, but you could barely breathe. Barely think.

Being afraid was an understatement.

“Don’t stop moving!”

The shout came from above you, towards the right. You saw him.

The library building itself was rather beautiful, as it had two floors, the second with an all-around balcony that let one browse for more books, while also peering over onto the first floor. That was where Satoru was. Watching the entire thing from above.

He tried tossing books, dying plants — even a reading chair — over the balcony to draw them away from you, and it worked for some, but not all. Not most.

He would have kept going, but then, you shouted, amidst your aimless running, “they’re behind you!”

Those words would have, should have, sent a wave of panic through him, making his knees want to buckle, create the urge to throw up his insides, or drain the color from his skin. And while those things happened, it wasn’t because you alerted him to his own company on the second floor, but it was because the moonlight shining through the windows of the library allowed him to see the herd start to back you into a corner.

“No.” The cry slipped out from between his quivering lips.

You cried his name. Not his full name, but the nickname you adored whenever you felt needy or frightened. He thought it was because of your impending doom, but in truth, it was because he was about to meet a similar fate.

He felt hands grace the back of his shirt, but there were too many around him, just as there were too many around you.

Just too many.

You watched as Satoru vanished into the herd grabbing at his clothes and limbs, unable to fight them off.

And he watched as your figure vanished, and the other herd piled on top of you. And they started to feast.

— FOUR YEARS LATER —

The world no longer resembled the civilization or society it once knew. Overgrown grass and vines had started to climb most buildings, and said buildings were all trashed, abandoned, and picked apart by desperate survivors.

But the people — the last of those who hadn’t been eaten or turned — they were worse. Empty shells of the person they used to be before the world went to shit.

That was the reason why you treated every stranger like an enemy. As far as you were concerned, they were.

The woods were peaceful today. Leaves were changing colors, representing the arrival of the fall season. The thought of trying to survive another winter sent a shiver up your spine, but you couldn’t worry about that right now.

Only on how to make it to tomorrow.

If my traps didn’t catch anything, that’ll mark day three of going to sleep hungry, you thought. Nothing new, I suppose.

Suddenly, you heard a leaf crunch.

You drew your gun instantly, gripping the small weapon with both hands.

A figure moved past one of the trees, catching your eye, and they were much too fast to be one of those damned monsters. It was a human.

He appeared in front of you — or rather, in front of the barrel of your gun — in an instant, halting his footsteps, startled, as if he hadn’t expected to run into anything or anyone out here in the woods, as if the world was still a somewhat safe place.

“Drop it.” You said lowly to the unfamiliar man, eyeing the knife in his right hand.

“There’s no way-”

“I said to fucking drop it!” You cut him off, stepping closer. One wrong move, and you’d fire a bullet in his head.

“Okay, okay.” The man tossed the knife to the ground, but he never snatched his eyes away from you. And they weren’t necessarily filled with fear, but rather, shock. “It’s me, Satoru. Don’t you-”

“Turn around.”

“Please, you gotta recognize-”

“Turn around.” You grabbed him, turning him around yourself. And he let you. Despite the advantage he had in strength and height, he didn’t fight. You chalked it up to you being armed. “Shut up and don’t move,” you ordered.

You gave him a quick, one-handed pat down before removing the bag he carried.

You cautiously stepped away from him, his back still turned, and you opened it, dumping out the nonsensical items that fell onto the orange leaves and dirt.

He has nothing of value, you thought, flipping through his belongings. What would I kill and rob him for? A book and a photo album?

Suddenly, the man spoke.

And it was a call of your name.

Your eyes widened, and you rose to your feet to see him turning around, his hands in the air.

You were quick to press the gun against his chest.

He took a step back. “Easy, easy-”

“How the hell do you know my name?”

Sadness as clear as day was evident in his eyes. His ears and cheeks had gone red. Whatever was upsetting him had wrecked him so much so, he looked like a kid, or a kicked puppy. “Because it’s me. Satoru Gojo. We dated years ago, remember? I got you out of your hometown when the outbreak started four years ago. We got separated, and I thought . . . I can’t believe you’re alive. Please, baby, you gotta believe me. You gotta recognize me,” a tear rolled down his cheek, not a result of being close to death, but from being forgotten. He nodded at the book of photos on the ground. “Look through the photo album.”

You had seen your fair share of crazy, unstable individuals, but he seemed somewhat normal. His words were unsettling, as if they rattled some buried truth within your core, creating butterflies or nausea — you couldn’t tell the difference — in your stomach.

So you did as he instructed.

You crouched down, gun still in hand, and flipped it open.

There were pictures of the man with people who looked like him. People who didn’t. And someone who looked like you. She had your features, but she was clean. Grinning. Her eyes hadn’t yet grown dark. You, before it happened.

There were more photographs, and every single one forced a memory into your head at an unforgivable pace. Birthdays. Car rides. Pictures he took of you without your knowledge.

You laughed sadly, shaking your head. “I, um . . . I don’t rule out any weird shit nowadays, but if I remember correctly, the man in these pictures got eaten alive. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“No, I didn’t die. I’m here,” Satoru approached you. “There was a-a door behind me. I was able to open it, go down some stairs, and leave. I came around the building, but you were gone. All I saw was them dining on someone and your shoe, all covered in blood and, I heard you call me ‘Toru, which you only do when you’re scared. How the hell are you alive? How?”

You rose to your feet. “Shoe fell off. Dead guy on the floor behind me. Just tossed him at them and ran for it. No big deal.” You started to walk away. “Bye.”

“Wait, what?” Satoru grabbed his backpack and tossed his dumped belongings inside before he jogged in front of you, making you halt your steps. “You’re leaving? I thought you were dead for years, and you thought the same thing about me. We can’t just go our separate ways now, c’mon.”

“Just because we knew each other once doesn’t mean we still do.” You clenched your gun as some sort of warning. “So get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you live.”

“Please, baby-”

“Don’t call me that. My memory’s working just fine now. I didn’t want anything to do with you then, and that same logic applies. You’re traveling out here with no food or water. Your clothes aren’t torn to shreds. T-shirt looks pretty clean. Your hair looks like someone trimmed it up for you recently. I’m willing to bet you found a nice group of people to settle down somewhere with, and you haven’t known true struggle since this entire thing started.” Your hands started to tremble. There was anger glistening in your eyes, so intense, he didn’t recognize it as you continued to speak. “And you think . . . you think I’m going to follow you anywhere? No. I’ve been tricked like this a coupla times, Satoru. Too many people who were up to something inhumane have done and tried to do the same fucking thing you’re doing now, and I’m not falling for it again. Now leave. I’m keeping this gun pointed in your direction until you’re so far away, I start to forget about you again.”

“I would never, ever hurt you. I’m begging you to believe me.”

“Seems like you’re begging for death to me-”

There was another leaf crunch. Multiple.

I knew it, you thought. This was a setup. His people are here.

You saw the figures moving in the distance. And in an instant, you felt like that girl from three years ago, one who was all lost, alone, cold, hungry, and trusted the wrong group who approached her.

But not again.

You pushed Satoru down, only able to do so because he too had turned to inspect the noise, and once he hit the ground, you ran into the ever-changing trees.

Your footsteps only came to a halt when you heard those familiar groans and growls.

It wasn’t his group.

Guilt started to swirl around in your stomach, and you turned, but not to help. To watch, unsure of what you were hoping the outcome would be.

Satoru managed to get to his feet and grab his knife.

With great skill, with great, unwanted practice, he stabbed the hungry, dead bodies circling him in their skulls. He’d yank it out, blood would spew, and he’d do it again, and again, all as if it was a simply as washing dishes, blood soaking his clothes instead of soapy water.

Once the last one hit the ground, you turned away, only to come face to face with one that wasn’t among the crowd Satoru slaughtered.

You killed it rather easily with the knife you kept tucked in your belt loop.

But, by then, Satoru was within your line of sight, unsmiling.

His blood-covered chest heaved from exhaustion. But you couldn’t help but assume anger was also a reason.

He took a step in your direction. His blue, wide eyes locked with yours.

Suddenly, he charged.

You thought he was coming for you.

He was fast, fast enough to let you know that if he wanted to hurt you, he truly could have, so long as you didn’t have your gun. What a horrifying realization.

But when you felt a rough hand grace your shoulder from behind, you realized just as Satoru stuck his knife in the head of another zombie what his true intentions were: saving your life.

There was no time for thanks or for arguments, as more of them started to appear, ruining the atmosphere of the woods you once found peaceful.

You and Satoru ran alongside one another, making your way into the nearest town.

—

Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was the curiosity of wanting to know the person whom you couldn’t remember until today.

But you hadn’t yet told Satoru to leave your side well after you escaped the herd, and as you both broke into an abandoned retail store for shelter, you were the one to speak first.

“I thought those were people. Your people. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said simply, moving in through the front door behind you.

“I also didn’t consider helping you once I realized they weren’t,” you shone your flashlight over the broken candles and glass. “I was fine with letting you die.”

“It’s okay.”

“But you came back to save me.”

“That’s what happens when you’re still the person I love most in the entire world, I take it.”

His words made you turn around, shining the harsh light in his face, but he continued, even with a little smile upon his blood-covered face. “And I’m the person you hate the most, still.”

You put your backpack on the ground nearest a shelf of scented lotions. “It’s getting late. We can move some of these display tables and shelves and block the door, spend the night here, and go our separate ways in the morning.”

“Where are you headed?” He asked, starting to clear off one of the tables.

You didn’t answer. You only stared at him with great suspicion.

“Hey, I’m only asking because you were wrong about me not knowing what it’s really like out here, but you were right about me being with a group. I found some old coworkers and students of mine. We lost a lot of people, but some of us are still holding on, tough bastards. You might even recognize some of them from back home, you know. And, well, we don’t have an all-you-can-eat buffet going, but we do have food and clean water. Clothes too. Soap.”

You nodded in the direction of the singular soap bar left behind on one of the shelves. “And so does this place.”

“You need a group-”

“No!” You suddenly shouted, making Satoru halt his movements all at once. “Never again. People are worse than those fucking monsters. Now stop begging me, or else I’ll shoot you. I’ll shoot you and think nothing of it, swear I will.”

Satoru didn’t say another word after that. He only helped you block the doors, watched you go through the picked-over store merchandise, and wondered what the hell happened to his ex-girlfriend. But he’d never ask.

—

The festering tension had died down after you both cleaned your bodies with the very little water you could allot for bathing, and the bar of soap you found.

However, today felt like Christmas. Because, underneath the counter that formerly served as a register, there was a protein bar. You imagined that it belonged to an employee who liked to sneak snacks when their managers weren’t looking, but it didn’t matter. It was here.

Old and expired, but better than nothing.

You unwrapped the stale, nutty bar, and split it in half, handing some to Satoru.

“I’m all good here,” he shook his head.

“So confident you’ll make it back to your group safely that you’ll pass up on food now? You’re just as stupid as you were when we got separated.”

“Why would I take away food from someone who doesn’t know where their next meal will come from?” Satoru looked at you. “I mean, I know where mine is. Next meal, next bath, we even have mattresses . . .”

“What did I just say?”

“Nah ah, no shooting.” Satoru waved his finger at you, grinning. “You brought it up this time, baby.”

“It amazes me that you’re still alive,” you rolled your eyes, biting into your dinner.

“Shocks me too,” Satoru’s face took on a somber expression you could barely make out within the darkness. “Especially after I thought I lost you for good. I was kinda looking for ways to die, you know? I’m one lucky fool.”

“Why do you say things like that?”

“Huh?”

“Losing me couldn’t have impacted your life that much.” You took another bite, your last one before saving the rest for later. “I don’t understand you. If I was . . . if I am . . . the person you love most, why’d you treat me that way? Why did the world have to end for you to finally see me?”

Satoru sighed, but not out of annoyance. “I guess I took advantage of having you in my life. I thought that I could be an idiot, and you’d stay. I was one of those people who thought that the only bad things someone could do in a relationship was cheat or hit their partner, and so I figured, since I wasn’t doing any of those things and just missed a few dinners and anniversaries, then you and I were fine. See? A goddamn fool. But I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shrugged.

“Yes, it does. I was wrong to tell you it didn’t matter back then. And you’re wrong to say it doesn’t matter now, ‘cause it does. Yeah, we’re living in hell, but I was putting you through hell long before now, and I didn’t realize it. I’m going to risk my life and say this one last time, but I need you to come back to my camp with me. I can’t just walk away from you come sunrise.”

“No.”

“Then let me come with you.”

You widened your tired eyes. “Are you crazy?”

“Yes. So, whaddya say?” He smiled.

“I won’t let you give up on something as rare and as precious as your little safe place for me.”

“Fineee,” Satoru shifted his position, hitting his backpack as if fluffing a pillow before lying down on it. “Then I guess you’ll just have to kill me. I mean, I’m just gonna follow you no matter where you go, I swear I am, so . . .”

“Just . . .” you paused. “Just shut up and go to bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The drastic drop in temperature throughout the night was the first sign of an approaching winter. Finding warmer clothes was on your eventual to-do list, but damn it, as you shivered, you couldn’t help but wish you had prioritized it.

What the hell is the matter with me? I’ve survived too long to act like an idiot now. I blame Satoru, you thought as you started to rise, thinking that even lighting a few of the abandoned candles might have offered a little bit of warmth, when suddenly, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist.

Satoru pulled you close until your back hit his chest.

Only when he felt your body stiffen did he realize — did he remember — holding you close wasn’t something he was allowed to do. Not anymore.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I saw you shivering and-” Satoru whispered from behind you. “Nothing but instinct. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Your response was surprising. He expected another death threat. But he didn’t question it. Instead, he stroked the back of your cold hands with his warmer ones.

It wasn’t long before he heard a couple of sniffles rather than snores.

“Are you crying?” He asked softly.

“No,” you sniffled. “Shut up.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” What a stupid question. Most people cried every day, if they lived to see another day.

“I just haven’t been held in years. I don’t remember the last time I even hugged someone.”You snuggled closer against him, and Satoru’s heart started to melt. “It’s no big deal. Just go to sleep.”

— TWO DAYS LATER —

He meant what he said. Satoru Gojo was on your heel like a lost puppy. And though your journey was a far cry from the luxury he was used to — access to basic necessities in truth, but a luxury four years into the end of the world — he never stopped grinning. Never complained. He bore it all with a smile: the hunger, the dirt, the exhausting walks, running for his life, killing, killing, killing.

“I changed my mind.”

Your words broke a comfortable silence, one that accompanied the gorgeous view of the autumn trees from the cliffside hill you both sat upon, nearest the fire he roasted a piece of fish above. It was so beautiful, watching the sunset. Breath-taking. So much so, Satoru hadn’t fully grasped your words until you spoke again, claiming the spot next to him.

“I’ll go back to your camp with you.”

“Really?” Satoru tried to hide the excitement and relief he felt, but it was impossible. He was nearly jumping out of his boots.

“I feel guilty,” you shrugged, then eyed his state. His messy hair, dirty clothes, ripped pants — which would have been fine had the world been normal and fashion trends mattered, but out here, when one needed all the warmth they could get, ripped clothing was a disaster waiting to happen. “It’s been two days, and you’re already a mess, Satoru. If I can’t get you to give up on sticking with me, then, camp it is. I can’t stand feeling like I’m killing you slowly.”

“Can’t stand it, hm?” He grinned, pleased with the fact that wasn’t always so obvious: you cared about him. “I’m glad you changed your mind, but if I die out here, it’s on me, not you.”

You gave a hum in response. You couldn’t help but fidget with your fingers. After all, the idea of being in another camp with other people frightened you more than anything else nowadays. But the idea of having access to things you once took for granted? The idea of, maybe, just maybe, being able to talk to someone or have a meal that was somewhat decently sized — the idea of being around him? With him?

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a while. He looked up, catching your gaze, though you tried to slickly flicker your eyes down at the fish.

“How many fish were you able to catch?” You asked.

He smiled, deciding not to comment on your lingering stare. But, oh, how he wished it lasted longer. “Just one for now. I’ll give you the bigger half.”

“No, split it evenly.”

“You got it.” Satoru pulled the cooked fish out of the fire. With a cleaned knife, he split it, but the portions were drastically uneven.

He gave you a piece of fish so big, you had to wonder, for a moment, if he had bothered to cut it at all.

“Here you go, your half of the fish,” he said.

“This looks like a bit more than half,” you held it up, inspecting the hot meat with a little smile.

“Huh? I can’t hear you.” Satoru hid his tiny portion in his big hands as he moved it to the side of a log, as if to prevent you from comparing, but then, he noticed something. Something as rare as a shooting star. “Was that a smile? Did I just see you smile?”

You tried to wipe the grin off your face and turn away from him.

“Nuh uh, don’t turn away, I wanna see it again.”

“Absolutely not.” You placed the fish down on the log in front of you. You couldn’t eat just this second, not when butterflies were swirling around in your stomach.

You started to fidget with your hands again. God, this was silly. You felt like a giggly schoolgirl rather than a survivor of the apocalypse, much like you once did when you first met all those years ago, when he was the guy at the bookstore purchasing a few copies of the mandatory novels his students had to read for those who were less fortunate and couldn’t get access to them as easily. He wasn’t allowed to do that. Hell, he wasn’t even an English teacher, but he did it anyway.

Then he saw you. Purchased the three novels in your hand for you all the while wondering if he should take up the part-time job as a bartender he had been eyeing lately, all to keep up with the book shopping habit of the girl he had just learned the name of. That day, he spoke to you in ways that had you acting similarly to how you did now. A lovesick fool.

Suddenly, you felt fingers press against your waist. A couple of days ago, you would have sliced the hand of anyone who dared to touch you that way, but around him, you could relax. You could breathe, and just be.

“Satoru!” You whisper-shouted, choking back the urge to giggle as you flinched.

“You’re still ticklish?” He did it again, and there it was. The sound that was a foreign concept for anyone nowadays. A laugh.

“Yes!” You giggled. “It’s not something that just goes away!”

He looked for any signs that you wanted him to stop, but when he saw that your eyes were practically begging him to keep going, as if the windows to your soul showcased what you so desperately needed — affection, a good laugh, some sort of happiness — he gently, yet swiftly, got you onto your back, practically straddling you as he continued to tickle your sides.

“Oh, I-I’m getting you back for this,” you gasped for breath, laughing, playfully trying to swat his hands away, but not really putting in any effort. “Just you wait!”

What came next was a result of his love and affection for you, a result of seeing you laugh and smile and him thinking, she’s so beautiful.

Satoru leaned over and kissed your cheek.

You froze. He froze.

“Shit, I’m sorry. It was, um . . . instinct again,” he blushed. He was starting to move away from you, but you suddenly grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Wait, it’s fine,” you were unable to look him in the eye as you said, “you can do it again.”

Soft lips pressed against your skin yet again, lingering, wanting more.

He moved his lips a little closer to your jaw.

“Can I kiss you here as well?” He whispered with an eagerness he tried to hide, but failed to.

“Yes.”

“Where all can I kiss you?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

His other hand cupped the side of your head. You found yourself leaning into his palm, all the while his lips trailed kisses along the side of your neck.

“Satoru, don’t tease me. It’s been too long.”

“I won’t baby, promise.”

—

For the first time in years, your skin knew something other than bruises. Hickeys decorated it as if Satoru wanted to mark you as his.

He pulled your naked frame closer to the fire for warmth, used his bag as a cushion for your head, and one hand gripped your ass in a way that made every thrust feel that much deeper, and his other held you against him, as if your body touching the floor of the woods was a sin.

His thick cock pumped in and out of you with a familiar rhythm he remembered you once loving. Pretty moans slipped from between your lips in such a way that he almost hated the idea of kissing you, but he dreaded the idea of not doing so even more. It took you by surprise — his mouth melting against yours, shutting you up in the best possible way, but he too moaned when your wet tongues started to swirl around each other.

“Can’t hold it long,” he whispered into your mouth, though the warning wasn’t needed, as the way his hips bucked with loosening restraint was a telltale sign that he was about to cum. And if you remembered one thing about Satoru Gojo, it was that he liked to make a mess, pump you full over and over again until he was certain your warm hole had milked him dry.

He gave another thrust, one that had you both seeing stars, and not the ones that glistened in the sky behind his messy hair, but the ones that came when he angled his cock just right.

“Mmm, right there, oh god,” he moaned, pulling his hips back before driving his cock in again. “You like it too, huh?”

His hand released your ass, and instead, gripped the surrounding grass as if the ground itself could ground him.

“Fuck,” he swore, and quickened his pace. “Cum for me, baby.”

“Please, please, Satoru.”

You begged for something, you didn’t know what exactly, but it wasn’t long before a rather powerful orgasm washed over you. Your toes curled, sweat dripped across your forehead, and that explosion of pleasure knocked every bit of sense out of you as your nails scratched up his muscular back.

He didn’t stop, though. Your thrashing frame was only held against him tighter by his other arm. Chest to chest. All you could feel was him. Him, him, him. And as you came, he returned his lips to yours, claiming your mouth with his own, swallowing your moans, all while fucking you through your orgasm.

His own came next. But first, he pressed you against the ground. He then hooked his hands underneath your knees, raising them, pumped and pumped and moaned and pumped some more, all until he finally fucked you and himself silly, so silly that he wasn’t certain he’d ever stop cumming. You felt too good.

No part of you ever had to wonder if Satoru only wanted sex. Not when, afterwards, he held you close, exchanging soft, sweet kisses with you as if you two were a happy couple warm in a bed.

“No, I’m serious,” Satoru laughed softly. “I am-I was a teacher, but I can’t tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator. I mean, who cares when you should be running away from it anyway?”

“You can tell by, um, their snouts, I think. Oh, did you know moose are way bigger than most people think they are?”

“I did, yeah. I also heard there’s this huge debate over whether or not dinosaurs are bigger or smaller than the media portrays ‘em to be.”

“Have you heard the theory about dinosaurs having feathers?”

“I remember some students of mine talking about that. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Your mindless, simple chatter went on, on, and on, well into the night when you both fell asleep in each other's arms, safe.

—

Satoru awakened to the rising sun, fading smoke from a long-gone fire, forgotten, cooked fish, and you, frowning down at him.

“Someone frowning the morning after isn’t a good sign,” he said, sitting up, yawning. “And here I remember someone cumming all over-”

“Aht, aht, aht. Enough.” You coughed. I can’t believe that’s your first sentence as soon as you wake up. But I’m frowning because it just hit me that you didn’t pull out. I’m imagining the worst-case scenario.”

Satoru rose to his feet, stretching his sore limbs. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss his mattress. He could only hope his friends didn’t give it away, thinking he was dead and long gone — not that he’d blame them.

“At the camp, we have a doctor there, goes by Shoko. I’m sure she could help with all kinds of scenarios,” Satoru’s face was blank, unrevealing to what scenarios he could have been imagining.

You scratched the side of your head. “What else do you guys have?”

“Books.” Satoru, who reached into his backpack and waved the red, thick novel at you, continued, “More than this one you’ve been eyeing.”

“You’re joking.” Your eyes widened a bit.

“No joke, baby. We’ve got everything from classics to shitty romantasy.” He put the book back in his bag, making a mental note to hand it to you later on once you both could settle down once again. But right now, you had to keep moving. “But, uh, I don’t think anyone’s been breaking into any libraries since this all started, ‘cept you, of course. Why don’t you have any?”

You stood, grabbing your belongings, including the uneaten fish. “I’m always on the move with limited space. The only things I can afford to carry are what I need to survive. Plus, the last book I had fell into a river. I didn’t get to finish-” you cleared your throat. “To finish-”

False alarm. There wasn’t a little something caught in your throat. It was a full on coughing fit.

“Here, drink some water,” Satoru hurriedly reached into his bag for his bottle. “Sit down.”

It was hard to hear him over your own coughs. But he sounded calm. Probably because you both instantly ran over every scenario in your head that could result in such a coughing spell from you, but as far as you both could remember, you hadn’t been bitten. You weren’t infected. You were healthy.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine,” you said, shaking your head at his offer of water. “People cough sometimes. Let’s keep moving.”

—

There came a point during your trek through the ruins of a city with skyscraper buildings in which Satoru was ahead of you.

“So, about the book in my backpack, I’ll give it to you, but, in exchange, I want you to call me ‘Toru at least ten times a day. You only do it when you’re scared, but I wanna hear it more often. How does that sound?” He said with a grin.

But when his annoying behavior wasn’t met with a response, his smile faded.

He turned around to face you, and that’s when he saw it. The way your limbs trembled. The way your chest heaved.

“Baby?” He called out with great worry.

You suddenly collapsed.

Your body hit the ground hard, much too fast for him to catch you. He rushed to your side, falling to his knees and ignoring the ache such a move shot through his legs.

“Baby, wake up. Come on, wake up.” He shook your shoulder.

Just as his hand touched your cheek, your eyes snapped open.

“Wh-what . . .”

Your words were nonsensical. You looked around, rather startled, and felt Satoru press his hand against your forehead.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re burning up.” He sat you up, but the movement made you flinch. Satoru figured that, perhaps, it was because of your fall. Until your hand gripped your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“There’s an ache in my shoulder.”

If something was wrong, I would’ve seen it last night, right? Satoru thought as he slowly removed your clothes, just enough to see you from behind. I would’ve seen it last night.

The back of your shoulder was exposed to him.

Or, rather, the big, festering wound was. It was red. Angry. Infected.

The same conditions were more commonly seen around bite marks, so much so, it was difficult to remember that scratches from those damned monsters were just as deadly. Having to slice off the hand of his pink-haired former student just to save his life, all because he had gotten bit just along his palm and he needed to act quickly to stop the infection from spreading sealed the memory of the symptoms into Satoru’s mind forever. And he was seeing it yet again.

But he couldn’t slice off this body part, not that it would help. You had been infected for too long, and he knew it, because as he stared at the scratch that, in itself, was barely visible to the naked eye, he remembered where it came from.

“The other day. After we reunited,” he whispered in shock. “There was one of ‘em behind you. I killed it, but it must’ve scratched your shoulder. I wasn’t fast enough. No, this can’t be happening. I just found you. I just found you. No . . . no, we can fix this.”

You started to tremble. “It’s just a scratch, maybe I’ll be fine if I just take some antibiotics or . . .” You shook your head at your own words. You knew that wasn’t how this worked. You laughed bitterly. “It’s just a scratch. I’m going to die . . . from a scratch. I’m gonna die-”

Satoru was in front of you in a flash. He cupped your face, though he was the one with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Look at me, baby. Shoko, that doctor I was telling you about, is brilliant. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. If we hurry, maybe we can get to her in time, and she can do something.”

It was wishful thinking. An idiotic mindset. You sniffled. “‘Toru, I don’t know.”

“We have to try, yeah?” Satoru helped you adjust your clothes and guided you to your feet. “Come on, let’s go. Can you stand up?”

—

You walked for a while until walking became difficult.

Satoru carried you for a while until even resting against his back became difficult.

It was night time, the woods as dark as ever, when you started coughing again. This time, blood came with it, spewing from between your lips and across Satoru’s shoulder, decorating his shirt in red specks.

The coughing was endless. He stopped walking, lowered you against a tree, and pulled out his water.

Your only responsibility was to drink as many sips as you could while he built a fire. You watched him do it, his brows pinched in dread and concentration. Perhaps, realization as well.

Satoru appeared in front of you again, able to see your face clearly now, and thus, your bloodshot eyes, dried, blood-covered lips, and sweaty skin.

“I don’t wanna die,” you whispered.

He could barely hear you. You didn't have enough energy to speak properly. He knew — he knew — even if Shoko could do something — and she couldn’t, or else Yuji Itadori would still have both hands, Nobara Kugisaki would still have an eye, and Kento Nanami would still be alive — you would never make it back to the camp.

He wasn’t certain if you’d make it through the night.

And the thought of that made him wish he was dead, because he couldn’t fucking stand it.

Satoru gently pulled you close, holding your trembling frame against his chest. He too was shaking. Kissing the top of your head, he said, “I’ll hold you the entire time. I promise.”

“But I’ll hurt you. I’ll-I’ll kill you,” you cried softly, soaking his shirt. “I don’t wanna turn into one of those things. Please don’t let me. Kill me before then.”

Suddenly, Satoru heard familiar groans and growls in the distance.

He leaned you back against the tree, eyeing the direction it came from as he pulled out his knife.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

“No,” you tried to reach for his shirt with the intent to tug on it and stop him, but you missed him entirely, swiping at the air instead. “I should handle it. I’m dead anyway. ‘Toru, please-”

You started to cough again. Blood spilled out onto your chin, and that was all the confirmation Satoru needed to know you weren’t strong enough — not that he’d let you do it to begin with.

He left to the heartbreaking sound of you weakly calling his name.

The last thing he wanted was to leave your side, but based on the noise, it was only one, and he’ll be damned if you were eaten alive whilst you were already dying. No. he’d make your death as peaceful as possible. Hold you the entire time. Stroke your skin and-

Satoru thrusted his knife into the head of a zombie. This one, though, was a big guy. It was just as tall as he was — well over six feet — but not only did it have the crazy strength that all of those dead creatures possessed, but he had over a hundred pounds on Satoru.

And Satoru’s horrid mental state and lack of concentration didn’t do him any favors. Thus, while he was able to kill it, he didn’t account for how close he was to the edge of a hill, nor that the zombie would fall forward onto him, and send him and itself rolling down the hill.

—

An explosion of pain made his limbs feel like they were on fire. It was a bad fall into what was seemingly a pit at the bottom of that damned hill he rolled down. His head ached, there was blood from him smacking his skull against the ground, but that wasn’t nearly as bad as the weight of that dead thing on top of him, crushing him, and putting pressure on his badly twisted ankle.

Getting out of this pit would have been hell even if he didn’t have the extra obstacles of being injured and trapped.

But he had to get out.

You needed him.

—

It took over an hour.

It was hell. Climbing, crawling, grunting in pain. But he made it to the top of the hill, and upon seeing the flickering flames from the fire he created to keep you warm, he ignored the pain shooting through his body, and half walked, half dragged himself back to you.

He saw the book first.

It was on the ground, flipped open. He almost smiled at the thought of you seeking it out and reading it as best as you could in your condition, as you had been eyeing it since your great reunion, but hadn’t yet asked him for it.

He stepped closer, and that was when he noticed that some of the pages were in fine condition, but once you seemingly made it to page twenty, the inked contents were ripped. Page after page. Nearly shredded. Each one more destroyed than the last.

He heard something rattle.

Satoru darted his eyes over to you. You were digging through his backpack, unaware of his approaching footsteps.

“ . . . ‘Toru,” you called out in a voice he didn’t recognize.

Suddenly, your trembling hands started to pull things out of his bag one by one. You grew more angry, more dissatisfied with every item that wasn’t the one you seeked, tossing things against the ground as you groaned angrily, until finally, you pulled out what you wanted.

His photo album.

He called your name softly, and you froze.

And when you turned to face him, he knew he lost you.

The light in your eyes was completely gone. You smiled at him, but not lovingly. Your blood-soaked teeth shined as you grinned with hunger, that same blood dripping, dripping, dripping from your chin, and just before he could break down and cry at the sight, you launched at him.

It was quite funny. Alive and somewhat well, you had forgotten all about him during the four years you thought he was dead. But in this condition, dead and bloodthirsty, part of you still remembered the man you currently tried to devour. Your dying self must have missed him terribly, coughing up blood as you knew you were going to turn into one of those horrid things, and there was no one by your side.

You died alone, waiting for him. Reading to keep yourself company.

Just as you once did while you waited outside of restaurants for him.

And now, you had been clenching that photo album. All because, even while dead, you wanted ‘Toru.

Tears streamed down his face as he pulled you between his legs, held your wrists with one large hand, then held your head, snapping jaw and all, against his chest.

He broke his promise to hold you earlier. But maybe, if he held you now . . .

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Satoru cried. He released your head for a moment, and you bit his hand, ripping his flesh, but it didn’t matter.

With his bleeding, infected hand, he felt around your hips for the gun within the holster of your pants.

You gave a mixed noise; it was inhuman, the groaning and growling all of those monsters made, but there was something else there. A cry of his name underneath it all.

As tears clouded his blue eyes, blurring his vision, Satoru pressed the gun against your head.

He couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

Therefore, he thought, I love you.

The bullet was fired through your skull. Your body went limp in his arms, blood drenching his clothes in such a disturbing way, it freed his mind of any doubts he might have had about his next move.

But there weren’t any, truth be told.

Don’t be scared, you won’t be alone, baby. I’m coming with you, he thought.

When he pressed the hot gun that burned his temple against the side of his forehead, he fired it, as he knew he wanted to die with you from the moment he realized your fate upon looking at your shoulder.

After all, he swore that he’d follow you anywhere, and the brain matter that spewed from his head just before his dead body collapsed on top of yours devastatingly proved it so.

——

Night One.

It started pretty simply.

You were stationed inside a very cramped office—two doors located on your right and left, desk in the middle—that left you feeling a bit uncomfortable but, it was pretty on par with the offered pay for this job.

No one was in the park when you initially arrived and you’d only spoken to your employer Shiu Kong through email up until this point. The whole thing was sketchy from the very beginning and yet, you still took the job. You needed a quick cash grab and five nights working at this horror theme park you quite admire in your free time didn’t sound so bad.

After all, the main attraction to said park was in the name: Fushiguro Frights. You’d never heard of an entire park named after a mere scare actor so you were drawn in by that alone. Apparently—after some extensive research—he’d been so good at his job that the owners renamed the park after him and he quickly became the main attraction.

Yeah, there were plenty of other things in this park that people came to check out like the haunted houses, those creepy ass mazes, some rides, etcetera. But everyone really only came for one thing and that was Toji Fushiguro.

Was he scary? You don’t know, didn’t care too much to find out either. The only thing that caught your attention about him aside from the place being named after him was how hot he was. People talked about how they came to get scared by him but you knew for a fact that was the last thing people really came for. 

Well, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself anyway. You try to ignore that a lot of people talk about how ridiculously fast he is and how nobody ever really knows where he’s going to be or when. He just kinda.. “pops up” and that’s what scares people, you figure. 

Not that any of that matters much to you. You’re a security guard taking the weirdest night shift offered. You’re supposed to show up about an hour after midnight and then you just sit and watch the cameras for the next six hours. This job was going to be a walk in the park, literally-

The loud ass ring of some old phone makes your skin jump as you nearly fall out of your chair. Muttering some sort of curse before you collect yourself, your hand goes out to answer it and a voice was coming through before you could even fix your lips to say anything.

“Hello, hello?” The voice is filled with static and sounds like something that was recorded from back in 1987 or something…

You finally open your mouth to say something but when a hand lands on the door to your left and a voice fills the small space of your office with a hum of, “Yo,” the only thing leaving your throat is a yelp of surprise.

You nearly jump out of your chair again and your head whirls to the side to look at who the hell just walked in.

Standing there with one of his arms resting on the doorframe is a tall man with dark hair and a thin mustache, who takes a slow drag from the cigarette perched between his lips before exhaling its contents to the side and nodding his chin at you. “Little jumpy for a security guard, no?” He points out carefully. 

Gulping, you let your lashes bat as you take in his audacity to point out your surprise as if he didn’t just pop up out of nowhere. “I-, who are you?” 

The man cracks a lazy smile and lets his eyes glide down your seated frame slowly and completely unashamed. Then his eyes meet yours again as he plucks his cigarette from between his lips and flicks it off to the side, scoffing, “The person who hired you, of course.”

Ah, Shiu. You nod at his little reminder and then take in his appearance, making an effort to commit it to memory so he doesn’t scare the shit out of you like that again in the future. “Right,” You sigh, “It’s nice to finally meet you then.”

He’s extending his hand out for you to shake before you even think about doing so yourself, to which you carefully slot your hand into his and then flash a polite little smile.

You should’ve known from then that this whole experience would be… weird.

Hell, you should’ve known things would be strange from the moment you saw the poorly put-together flyer offering this damn job. And yet, here you are.

Shiu then went on to explain the things you’d be required to do for the next five nights you’d be working here. Which… wasn’t much, if anything at all. In so many words, he explained that all you’d be doing is sitting there checking the security cameras.

“And don’t worry about that old ass phone over there,” He hums with a casual nod of his head, “It’s just another one of our little gimmicks here meant to scare folks. But, I think that’s just about everything.” Shiu finishes off before pushing himself away from the door and steps toward you.

Instinctively, you go to slide your chair back and make room for him because you assumed he was going to try to show you something with the cameras again but to your ever-loving surprise, he leans down toward you and tugs your chair close to him.

Clicking his tongue, “One more thing though,” He breathes out, sharp brown eyes meeting yours with warning, and the scent of a freshly smoked cigarette wafting into your space. “Under no conditions are you allowed to fuck the scare actors.”

“Pardon?” You choke out with widening eyes. Then you find yourself leaning back into your chair a bit more to create some distance between the two of you, smiling awkwardly, “Why would I… Wait, is that something that happens often or..?”

Seeming to hit the nail right on the head, Shiu nods begrudgingly and then lifts one of his hands to wipe it over his face as if to erase his mind of things he’s seen before. “It’s part of the reason why we’re in such a desperate search for people like you to work the night shift. Last few security guards just… couldn’t help themselves, I guess.” 

You don’t exactly mean to but, you chuckle at the thought of that. The past few security guards got caught sleeping with the actors here? How bizarre.

You lift your hands to wave off his warning since you know you’d never do something like that, “You don’t have to worry about that where I’m concerned, Mr. Kong.”

“Jus’ Shiu is fine, doll.” He corrects in that deep voice of his while leaning away from you and finally standing up straight again, “And I’d sure hope not. ‘Can’t say I blame all our past security guards for fallin’ into ‘temptation’—if you will—but, it does become quite the headache to deal with when they do the things they do where… people can see, y’know?”

Cocking a brow at that, “Sorry, ‘falling into temptation’? Are you implying that the actors here like, go out of their way to sleep with the security guards?”

Shiu seems to think about a specific event from the past as you say that with the way his expression shifts into something almost reminiscent. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. Most of our actors are fine and head home like normal people when the park closes but then there’s… a few of ‘em that..” He trails off for a second to ponder, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tight slacks and leaning back a bit. With another click of his tongue, “I guess you could say a few of our actors here tend to get a bit quirkier as the nights go on.”

Whatever the fuck that means, you find yourself saying mentally. This whole ordeal was getting weirder and weirder the more you learned but, you were trying to focus on the money, even if it wasn’t that much.

Strange or not, things were simple: watch the cameras and don’t fuck any of the actors. Easy peasy.

Your employer goes over a few more things with you like; how to shut your office doors in case of a dire emergency and how you should be very careful with when to shut them since they drain a lot of power, a refresher on how to use the gun you’ve got attached to your hip—though you really think that was Shiu’s sly way of getting closer to you—and lastly, what to do if you do happen to encounter any of the scare actors.

Apparently, you were supposed to professionally escort them out of the park if you caught any of them lingering around during your shift. Shiu explained how some may try to distract you from doing so but as long as you’re stern with removing them, they should listen to you.

After all of that, he leaves and tells you to call him if you run into any minor issues.

The rest of your first night goes by without anything else eventful happening so, maybe the next four days would be easy after all.

——

Night two.

When you arrived at work on this day, you should’ve quit right after.

Why? Because as soon as you enter your office, you’re met with Shiu sitting in your chair with his legs sprawled out, a hand resting suspiciously high against his thigh, and his phone held in his palm. The moment you walk in, he flinches as if he’d been caught doing something he had no business doing and something about the whole interaction left you side-eyeing the man.

Not that he seemed to notice, or care.

Clearing his throat as he moves to stand up and make room for you to pass by, “You’re early.” Shiu comments.

You brush by him to place your bag on the office desk and then take a seat in your chair, “And you’re in my office.” You point out in a simple tone that weirdly makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. For some reason, he was nervous around you and you were kinda catching onto it despite today only being your second night. “Why’s that?” You add on in question before looking at him.

Shiu clears his throat again and gestures his chin toward your desk, to which you find a sticky note with a phone number on it, “Stopped by to leave that for ya’. Just in case anything crazy happens, you can just give me a call, y’know?” He explains.

You nod along slowly and swipe the note up to input the digits into your phone, “Alright, thank you. Should I be worried tonight or something?” Your lips quirk a little to grin while you type in his number and shoot him a short text.

To which Shiu—overly easy—finds himself smiling and leaning against your office door frame again, plucking his cellphone out of his pocket to skim over your text and save your contact. “Nah, nothin’ to be worried about, doll. The numbers for emergencies only.” He claims for a moment, then lifts his eyes back onto you and swipes his tongue out over his lips. “Unless, of course, you’re ever bored ‘n wanna shoot me a text or two. I’d consider that quite the emergency too, so I won’t mind.”

You look up at him, smiling knowingly now. “If you want me to text you in my free time, just say that, Shiu.”

The sound of his name on your tongue makes him look off to the side again. Then he pushes himself off the wall and throws his hands up, “You said it, not me but, sure—I want you to text me.” He confesses. After which he adds, “Wouldn’t want you to die of boredom or anything like that, y’know?” as if to make up for the fact that he’s so openly flirting with you right now.

The two of you continue with that bit of small talk for a few minutes before he finally leaves.

Alone in your office, you spend the next few hours working diligently; flipping through the cameras, occasionally walking around your section of the park to check a few blind spots out, and ultimately ending right back up inside your office.

Nothing too eventful happened during your second night outside of you getting Shiu’s number. And the fact that his first-day warning of “no fucking the scare actors” rang throughout your head from time to time was something that left you anything but bored. You spent most of this day wondering what the actors were like in person and you were honestly curious about how “tempting” they could be.

He never gave you any names but you doubted that the whole thing could apply to Toji Fushiguro, he was the best scare actor of the park after all! Surely he didn’t fall into that category of individuals who liked to fuck around with security guards like you–

The sight of something moving suddenly catches the corner of your eye from the camera. Sitting up fast and scooting closer to your desk where the old monitors sat, you rushed to click on the area you saw movement in just for nothing to be there once you got to it. But, you’re not crazy, you definitely saw something.

You stay on it for a few minutes before clicking out and letting all the cameras splay across your screen, eyes flocking over each just to see if you would catch any more movement. Luckily for you, a person is spotted strolling through one of the haunted houses. Your finger works fast against the mouse to tap into that camera and really take in the sight to confirm your lack of going crazy.

You end up gasping in surprise because on the camera shown to you is the Toji Fushiguro walking around with not a single care in the world. Then—perhaps you imagine it but—he suddenly stops walking and looks directly at the camera before winking.

Your flashlight, a pair of handcuffs, and your safety gun are all swiped up in a matter of seconds before you go rushing out to try and catch him inside that haunted house in person.

Unfortunately for you, by the time you make it there, he’s nowhere to be found.

The rest of your night carries out without another hitch.

——

Night three.

This night wasn’t super eventful honestly.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself in comparison to all the other nights you’ve had so far and end up having going forward. The most noteworthy thing about night number three is how there’s movement on the cameras again and this time when you go out to check and see who it is, some random bummy-ass actor named Naoya is the perpetrator.

He made a lot of distasteful comments about you that he tried to pass off as compliments but his way of doing so was so disturbing that you were very quick with the way you cuffed him and escorted him off of park grounds.

Now, according to Shiu, you’re technically not supposed to cuff any of the scare actors unless they give you trouble. Yet, the moment you explained to him that the actor in question was Naoya, he understood immediately and even said how you could’ve been a little rough with the guy too since he’s known for being a complete ass to everyone he comes in contact with.

No sight of Toji during all that though.

Interesting.

——

Night four.

While this night wasn’t exactly the highlight of your entire job, it was definitely something worth mentioning. Why? Oh, y’know because this is the night you “formally” meet Toji Fushiguro and by formally, it’s only meant that he scares the living shit out of you while you’re in your office.

Legs perched up against your desk—eyes everywhere but on the cameras because you were too busy texting Shiu about god knows what—you hadn’t really been doing your job. But since your employer didn’t seem to mind, that meant it was okay in some sense, right? Even though the only reason he didn’t mind was that you and he were exchanging very flirtatious messages with one another, the point still stands.

And as you sat back tapping away on that bright screen of yours, you were completely oblivious to the watchful eyes all around you. For the past three days before now, you figured no one dared to come to your office at the very least. If anyone was going to be on park grounds after hours like this, they were sure to be somewhere fun or somewhere that would cause you to get up.

To your everloving surprise—just as you’re nibbling away at your bottom lip in reaction to something rather explicit said by Shiu—a voice hits you from your right. “Wow, I’m almost offended.” A man with a voice deep enough to invoke a scream of pure fear from your throat comments all too casually. 

God, you really were jumpy for a security guard.

That same man can’t help but laugh when you go tumbling out of your chair after being scared like that. After all, this is the kinda reaction he usually works so hard for throughout the day. “Here I thought somethin’ bad had happened to you since you didn’t come lookin’ for me like last time and yet, you’re here sexting with that old fart Shiu.” The man continues in a low drawl, watching you struggle to collect yourself on the floor.

Your heart is hammering in your chest from the jump scare and you forget all of your very short training that was given for this position. No one was supposed to be in the park, let alone in your office like this and yet here this guy was talking all regularly as if this were just another Thursday night. 

When your head does finally fly up and your eyes meet his, the first thing you do is gulp. Toji was a big man and from your angle down on the floor right now, he seemed twice his usual size. Large beefy arms folded across his broad chest, head cocked to the side, scarred lips tugged up into a torpid smirk, and dark verdant eyes low-lidded and taut on your floored frame. 

You don’t know what he normally wears for work to scare people but right now he was in a black shirt that looked like it was glued to his muscles and some big baggy grey sweatpants that made you double-take a few times because you swear you saw–

Toji suddenly crouches down to you and smiles. “Aw, look at’cha. Too frightened to say anything, officer?”

You instinctively throw something nearby at him, to which he swiftly evades with some sort of nonchalance that leaves you irritated already. Whatever you’d thrown clatters somewhere behind him and he glances back at the item before chuckling.

“Oh, we’re feisty today, huh?” He comments, slowly turning his expression to face you once more. Those low eyes of his shoot open in surprise when he’s met with a gun pointed at his face. Geez, all he did was scare you! Scoffing at the rather cute display, Toji merely tips his head further to the side so that your gun isn’t blocking the eye contact he wants to keep with you as he says, “You plan on doin’ something with that or are you jus’ trying to be cute?”

Something catches in your chest, like this burning feeling of distaste at the way he didn’t seem even phased by having a weapon pointed at him like this. “You’re not supposed to be here, Mr. Fushiguro.”

His smile widens, “You’ve got some pretty manners for a woman with a gun to my head.”

“And you’ve got some audacity parading about the park after hours. Just because the place is named after you doesn’t mean you can break the rules, asshat.” You spit.

Toji snorts, “Oh c’monnn, you’re no fun.” Then, along with that little taunting tone of his, he lets his gaze slip down a little, “I just came to check on you. You weren’t even doing your job properly if I managed to make it all the way here without you noticing.”

Obviously, you’re quick to take offense, despite his words being very much true. But it’s not your fault you were distracted, Shiu has a very filthy way of words that’d leave anyone distracted.

Rolling your eyes, “Cut the bullshit. The last time you were walking around, you left before I could catch you.”

Toji stares at you for a moment before leaning back a bit in thought. You had a point there, he did purposefully draw you out of your office the other day just to mess with you, and then left without a trace. But, could you really blame him? He wanted to get a decent grasp on your personality and how committed you were to this little five-day job of yours. 

Humming, “Oh, did I?” as he comes to terms with it.

You continue to hold that gun up, still aiming at him but not seeming to have any intentions of pulling the trigger.

The man barks out another laugh and shakes his head as he throws his hands to admit defeat, “Okay, fair.” Then those burly shoulders lifted to shrug, “But so what if I wanna walk around after hours, who’s it harmin’?”

Your pointed stare persists, “Me and my job.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone I’m here,” he counters.

You’re quiet for a moment and a moment only, thinking his words over. Technically he was right, you didn’t have to tell anyone he was ever there but, you didn’t want anything to come out of your pay and you had no idea whether or not Shiu checked the camera feeds after you left just to make sure you were doing everything correctly—especially considering that warning of his on your first day… 

Don’t fuck the scare actors.

Y’know, looking at Toji now and the way he’s so casual about having a gun pointed at him, perhaps you understood that whole temptation thing, just a bit. He was unfairly sexy with everything he did, after all.

Eventually, you let your hand fall and return your weapon to its holster with a sigh, “Can you please just go?” You request defeatedly. You didn’t want to drag this out any longer or fall victim to any more “temptation”.

Toji seems amused by your attitude now and he pushes up from his knees to stand. Then, with a roll of his shoulder, he makes sure to add a snarky little, “As long as you promise to do your job properly once I do, sure.” While he turns for one of the exits.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, finally managing to pull yourself up off the floor.

He starts to disappear around the corner and you hear him continue with yet another taunt that’s sure to leave you all the more annoyed. “Keep your eyes on those cameras, officer.” Toji muses.

You try to catch up with him and turn that corner yourself just to make sure he’s actually heading down the hallway to leave, “I always-” You’re cut off by the fact that there’s not a single sight of him down the hallway as your eyes peer down its expanse. It was so strange the way he always just disappeared like that. Leaving you murmuring a soft and confused, “The fuck…”

——

Night five.

The night that actually matters, if you will. 

The past few were… something but tonight definitely takes the cake. After yesterday’s strange encounter with Toji, you’d found yourself actually listening to his scolding about you not doing your job properly.

Instead of giggling through Shiu’s texts the entire night, you were perked up in front of the monitors, flipping through each of the camera frames like a hawk as if waiting for something to happen. That stretches on for hours and you quickly find your brain feeling dull with a strong impending boredom that you previously cured via texting.

Yet, something in you was determined to make Toji eat those words about you not doing shit properly. As if he had any room to speak, he literally broke park rules twice already! There you were though, headphones in your ear as you listened to music to give your mind some sort of stimulation while you stared blankly at the live footage ahead.

Nothing had moved or changed for hours and you felt like you were going to fall right asleep any moment now. Luckily for you though, you hear a sound down the hallway just outside your left office door. It scares you a bit but you’re trying to get control over all your jumpiness so, you roll your chair over to the door and lazily poke your head out.

Eyes scanning the drab hall ahead for any signs of life—having assumed the sound might’ve come from one of those rodents you’d once spotted previously—you’re quickly disappointed by nothing being there. Then you let out a heavy sigh and roll back to your monitors, clicking through to new areas you’re not exactly responsible for checking just because you needed something new to look at.

The soft click, click, click of your mouse was the only thing alongside the old fan running on your desk that made noise within your office. Everything was so still that it got eerie whenever you paid attention to it long enough. You were really alone in this big ass park, forced to watch some cameras for a few hours just to get paid….

The realization dawns on you a bit but just before you could quite dwell on it, you flick to a new area and gasp softly at what you’re met with.

Toji.

He’s standing in some office that weirdly looks a lot like yours, hunched over a desk and looking at a screen in front of him. You blink a few times and try to zoom in to figure out what exactly that screen is but you’re quickly distracted by the way his head turns and he makes eye contact with you. Well, technically the camera you’re currently watching him from but, it was close enough and sudden enough to make you gulp.

The man wasn’t exactly scary, he was just… creepy? But, in a good way, considering his profession ‘n all..

Even so, the two of you have some kind of staring contest before you see the way he makes a gesture with his fingers to beckon you toward him and then mouths out the words; Come get me.

You’re quickly ticked off all over again because who did he think he was taunting you like that? First, he had the nerve to criticize you on your job—even though he was right—and now he had the nerve to challenge you to come find him?

You don’t think you could’ve moved any faster, honestly. You hated how he thought he was just so smart and slick, hiding off in a section of the theme park he knew you were not even supposed to be looking at. Yet there you were storming off in that direction ‘cause you’d rather die than let him think he’s got you bested in… whatever it was the two of you had going on.

And in all this, the worst part was that he definitely was besting you in this—whatever it may be—because you didn’t even stop to think nor consider how the hell he always knew you were watching him. Or how he kept disappearing from areas as soon as you went to look for him.

At least, none of this dawns on you until you get to the same place you just saw him standing in on the cameras. The mock office you were in now was creepier than yours, dust and cobwebs coating nearly everything and the only source of lighting coming from your flashlight before you felt around for something to flick the lights on and then a dim creepy red light lit up only a fraction of the area.

It was clear that this was yet another attraction in the park but, it was almost like this room was made to scare people like you who worked there. The whole room was almost an exact replica of your office, just older. It made you wonder why the hell visitors of the park would wander into this area. After surveying the area, you soon groan at the lack of Toji being here and then turn to leave.

Juuust as you make it halfway down the hall, you hear a thump somewhere behind you that’s followed by a low, “Shit.”

You immediately turn back and rush in the direction since there was no way in hell you’d let Toji get away from you again. The moment you enter the office, you don’t even think twice about damn near tackling the man standing there. It would’ve been really embarrassing if it wasn’t Toji but luckily for you, as your hands work to pin a pair of wrists down and your body straddles his, it does turn out to be him.

Perfect.

You’re using one hand to keep his wrists crossed over one another while you work your other fingers toward a pair of handcuffs and finally finally get him restrained. “Got you,” You finally huff all confidently with a proud smile etched onto your features. He wasn’t getting away all easily this time, not without you properly dragging him out yourself just like you did with Naoya before.

Toji’s huffing a bit at the way you actually caught him off guard—at least with getting him down on the floor, he wasn’t expecting that at all—but a smug grin remains on his face, almost making you feel small despite being on top of him. “Yeah ya’ did, doll.” He purrs all deeply, watching the way your smile flickers. “So, what’re you gonna do now, huh?”

“Uh,” You glance off to the side, hand still holding his wrists down whilst you move to cuff him properly, “Escort you out, obviously.”

Those thin dark brows of his shoot up all unsurprisedly, “Really? But we were having so much fun.” He claims. You’re trying to figure out where he got that from since all you two have been doing is playing some weird game of cat and mouse up until now. Then he adds, “Are y’really gonna make me leave after all that?”

“You were having fun, not me.” You correct shortly.

Toji cocks a brow and lets those deep hazel-like eyes of his flock down your body, “Is that why you’re sitting on top of me and pinning me down like this?” He asks slowly, lips quirking up into a smirk now.

You try to ignore the way his looks make your body feel hot above him, “This was necessary, otherwise you would’ve run away like you did the last two times.”

“Yeah?” Toji taunts, hips twitching upward and leaving it damn near impossible for you not to feel what’s pressing up hard against your spread legs. You quickly realize the position the two of you are in right now. He seems to have acknowledged it and decides to tip his head back as if to get comfortable, “Alright then, officer. Escort me out.”

Smug bastard.

For some reason unbeknownst to both of you, your body doesn't move. You just sit there on top of him, keeping him pinned while your eyes widen and you try to figure out what the hell you really wanted to do with him.

“Hah, lemme guess..” Toji starts up again, head tilting to the side with such confidence that it almost pisses you off… again. Then you feel his legs move and his hips rise a bit, not only pressing his erection firmly against you but also causing your body to slump forward just a bit more. “You feel it too, huh?” He whispers.

Your face is hovering decently over his now and you’re expertly ignoring that fat twitch of his cock beneath you. Gulping before you ask, “Feel what?” You could hardly remember how the hell you got into this position in the first place. 

“‘Me against you.” He clarifies quickly enough for your face to flush over. “I love seeing a strong woman on top of me, can’t help but get a lil’ turned on by it.”

Batting your lashes down at him, the last thing you expected was for him to explain himself to you. Stammering, “T-Toji.”

His smile softens just a bit at the sound of his first name on your tongue like that, “What? We’re both adults here and I feel like I can be honest with ya’. So, what do you say you uncuff me and uh,” He clicks his tongue before glancing off, “Y’know, let me reward ya’ for finally catching me.”

The implication alone was enough to make you throb. Feeling his thick bulge resting right underneath you really wasn’t helping you make proper decisions. It was definitely bigger than anything you’ve had before, you could feel it creating the most sinful friction between the two of you every time either of you opened your mouths.

Fuck, it was torture.

“I don’t need a reward for that,” You eventually manage to say, trying to remember your professionalism. Then you take your lower lip into your mouth and chew on it in thought before sighing, “I need to take you out of the park.” The words left you as if they were a reminder to yourself and not him.

Toji finally looks directly up at you again. He could practically see the gears in your head turning, “And yet you’re sittin’ on top of me, twitching every time I open my mouth, and lookin’ at me like you wanna fuck me.” He blurts out. “Is that what it is—why you’re not movin’? Cause’ you wanna fuck?”

You make the mistake of flinching and he grits his teeth to bite back a groan. Your little jump felt way too close to you grinding against him and it was starting to drive him insane.

Then you have the nerve to breathe out a soft, “What?”

“Don’t pull the innocent card here,” Toji snaps, eyes narrowing before they flick down to your lips and how sweetly they’re parted. “I can practically see the drool against your lips.”

You blink, “I-I don’t-“

“Hell,” His gaze flutters down and he just lets himself grind up against your clothed cunt fully. “I can feel the drool on those other lips too.”

“You’re nasty,” You puff out before ultimately lifting your hips entirely—as if to escape how good it felt when he rolled his hips like that—and then going to stand up over him. “I don’t want to fuck you a-and… and I’m not getting off on any of this.”

Toji bites his bottom lip and then looks down at your thighs, noticing how close you are despite standing up. He doesn’t move from the floor and instead sneers, “She says with a soakin’ wet pussy.”

“Oh my god.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“Whaaat?” Toji purrs, still sprawled out on the floor but now leaning up as his cuffed hands fall into his lap. “Are you mad I know the effect I have on you?” He asks with an endearingly tilted head.

You send a glare down to him, “You don’t have an effect on me, Toji.”

“We’re still here though,” He points out, “I’m cuffed but you’re not removing me.”

“That’s because-“

“Because you’re too hot ‘n bothered to think straight.” He cuts off before shifting forward, cuffed hands creeping up to the back of your calves. “And y’know, there’s a real easy fix for that.”

You gulp—thickly—and then finally cave, shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. “…What might that be, exactly?” You ask carefully, asking yourself over and over; how did you get here?

Toji’s smile grows wicked. Gotcha’. 

From the angle he’s at, he doesn’t even realize how hungry he looks to please you over anything else. “You could spread these legs ‘n show me you’re not the least bit turned on after all that,” He suggests, eyes burning up into yours with a look of longing. “‘Promise I’ll leave ya’ alone after that.”

Now, you very well could have just told him no right then and there because truthfully, Toji would’ve left you alone even if you refused to show him anything. If you’d walked away, that would’ve been fine.

But do you? Fuck no.

Which is exactly why your work pants soon slip down your legs and you reveal a slicked pair of panties to his overly greedy green eyes. You’re standing right in front of him and Toji’s a big man so he’s eye level with your cunt even as he remains seated on the floor.

His hands have now dropped from your legs and are pawing at that plump tent in his pants. His cock was sweltering at the tip, drips and drips of precum bundling up against the fabric of his boxers while he stared all starved at the way your panties were practically glued to your soaked folds.

At first, he didn’t even know what to say. Words weren’t coming to his mind for a long moment because all his instincts were telling him to get a taste. Before he even realizes it, a sturdy grunt is falling past his lips and his brows are twisting up softly.

Then his eyes fawn upward on you, all pleading and low. “You can’t put wet pussy in front of my face ‘n expect me not to want a taste,” He breathes out as if it were your fault he was feeling the way he was right now (it was). He leans forward some more and his hands—albeit still restrained—come slithering up your thighs.

You don’t pull away or push at him and the look you were giving him said you wanted exactly what he was thinking.

Toji swallows down a whine when your hips actually shift closer. One lift of your leg and he’d really be able to see everything. You don’t do that though, not yet.

Instead, you move a hand down to his jaw and force him to tip further up so that you could see his entire expression—how desperate he was for it, how he was the one drooling now, and the constant flinching in his expressions as if he were trying not to look too needy.

“Jus’ one lick?” Toji finally asks, smiling now. “I’ll be good for it.”

Don’t fuck the scare actors, Shiu had warned. Yet here you are, soaking wet in front of the park’s most prized scare actor. 

You don’t have to worry about me where that’s concerned, Mr. Kong, you claimed oh so sweetly and now look at you—letting Toji yank your panties down your legs after you gave him a stupid nod of your head in approval.

Toji’s now leaning forward to cup your cunt into his mouth and suck the greediest gathering of slick past his lips, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then groaning sinfully at the sweet taste on his tongue. “Just one lick” his ass, he’s moving his hands and the next thing you hear is a loud snap of metal, both of his hands flying to your hips to jerk your body closer.

“Toji!” You gasp softly as a hand of yours shoots down to his dark head of hair and you grip on for support. 

The man lets one of his grasps move to your thigh so he can properly place it over one of his shoulders and get the right angle to eat your pussy like a man absolutely starved. His tongue is sloppy and hot against your soaking lips, lathering in between them and letting the filthiest of noises echo out into the air as if he didn’t have a single care in the world.

When his tongue glissades up to your clit, his palms lift ever so slightly just to slap at your skin before grinding his mouth forward into your cunt—moaning at the way you twitch all gorgeously against his skillful tongue. “C’mon doll, ride my fuckin’ face.” He grunts into you, eyes unmoving and daring as they peer up at your steadily dishevelling state. “Don’t be shy,” Toji coos once his lips pry away just to spit on your clit and get it nice ‘n messy for himself, diving back in after with a husk whisper of, “Use me.”

That just about does it for you. Your head tips to the side and that hand you’ve got buried in his hair grips tighter before your hips go bucking forward, meeting the long languid strokes of his tongue and feeling your folds drag all over his mouth. 

Toji smiles against your dewy pussy lips, tongue sloshing against every grind forward. “Mhmm, jus’ like that,” He hushes into your folds as his mouth angles up and then his tongue darts out to lap around your clit a few times just to spell his name onto it. “Mmmh-, uhuh,” Toji’s nearly babbling into you before pulling back just a tad and feeling the way you force his mouth against you again. Almost whining, “That’s it, put this mouth to work… Make yourself feel good, pretty.”

And oh do you do exactly that, using your grip on his hair to yank and haul him every which way you needed, feeling his fingers snake up in between your sexily parted thighs to then plunge right past your puffy folds just to curl inside you and pry a gasp from deep within your throat.

You hunch forward and your grasp on his head falters in reaction to that. Eyes all wide in surprise and voice airy, “T-Toji, fuuck… right there,” You moan embarrassingly.

It was almost annoying you how good he was at this, especially considering how he’d even broken those cuffs you put on him just to make sure he got the job done right. Toji’s tongue is licking and swirling around your clit til’ it’s raw, not prying away to even breathe until you’re writhing above him and whimpering about how you needed a moment to collect yourself.

He doesn’t even realize when you gush all around his fingers, despite diving them right up into your most sensitive spot and having the prettiest squelches echo out into the room. 

It’s not until you look down and notice the way his body was twitching just as much as yours was that you manage some coherent words again. Moaning, “Hnngh! Hahh.. you-, ngh… you like this?” You ask perfectly enough for it to actually register in his brain between the thick clouds of arousal collecting there.

“Fuckin’ love it,” Toji moans right back to you. “Could keep you on my tongue like this for the rest of the night but uh,” He derides and then shoots a fat glob of spit onto your pussy, watching the way it catches in your slick and dribbles down slowly. Fuuuck, his cock was aching. “M’gonna make a mess of myself down here if I don’t fuck you soon.”

You manage a flushed smile, “W-Would that be so bad?”

His thumb plucks up and presses against your clit as his wet face tips all the way back and he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, breath hot against your cunt. “Wanna make a mess inside you, instead. S’that alright with you, officer? You gonna let me do that?” Toji asks carefully.

You’d have to be out of your mind to say no to that at this point, nodding yes without a second thought. 

Seconds later and he’s ripping himself away from you and then standing up. Your legs are a bit shaky from the number of orgasms he so casually brought you to just a few moments ago and he’s towering over you all over again, chest lifting and rising as he catches his previously escaped breath. 

God, you were already a gorgeous mess in front of him and he’d only just started. “Slutty lil’ security guard,” He snorts, sizing you up and down, “Wanted to talk about me breakin’ rules and now look at’cha.”

You’re panting just as much as he is, “Shut up-”

“Nah, you shut up and get up on that desk f’me,” Toji cuts off brazenly and it’s downright pathetic the way you do exactly that without another word.

And while you’re propping yourself up onto the desk all perfectly just as he’s told you to, Toji just so happens to look down and spot your gun on the floor. 

He didn’t even realize you’d brought it with you when you came to detain him. He swipes it up from the floor and inspects it for a moment before looking at you again, scoffing, “This thing even loaded?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out unevenly. Honestly, you never knew if the gun was loaded or not but the way it looks in his hand right now and how he’s surveying it thoroughly makes you feel some type of way.

Toji’s gaze flicks back up to you and he cocks a brow, “Why do you look so fuckin’ needy? I ate you out properly, didn’t I?”

You gulp, “You did but…”

You both look down at the weapon in his hands and he smiles, “Kinky girl,” Toji coos, stepping closer to you and then caressing the inside of your thighs to part them wider before asking, “You want me to use this?”

Your lashes bat and you’re flustered by the question alone, sputtering, “I-I’ve never… I just-“

“Yes or no, doll.” He cuts off with this look in his eyes that tells you he's doing everything but judging you right now. “I’ll give you whatever you want, jus’ tell me.”

“Yeah…” You swear you were just curious about it. It’s not like you actually had a thing for gunplay or anything like that-

And then you feel the metal sliding up your skin steadily as it soon grazes your pussy lips until he nuzzles its tip in between them. Smirking, “You like that, huh? Feelin’ a gun against your clit like this..” He whispers as he watches himself work and catches the hitch in your breath. “Fuck. Normally I’m the one to suggest shit like this but you…” Toji’s brows just raise a bit as he finds himself at a loss for words

The fact that he even said normally as if this were something he did often goes over your head entirely and instead, you’re slouching back and gaping at him with a soft moan of, “I.. ah, I what?”

“You’re droolin’ over this.” He points out, hips shifting closer to the desk’s edge, “Soakin’ up your own gun like some whore, goddamn.” The weapon is careful against your clit and while his finger wasn’t even on the trigger, you were still feeling that mix of fear and arousal again.

Cunt slavering all against the material and leaking down onto the desk, you try to flip the script on him, “Don’t act like.. hah, like you’re not getting off on this too.”

There was a slick sound of movement where he was working that gun up and down the slit of your pussy, letting it tease at your hole just to hear you whine before he tugs it back up to your twitching bud. Trying to act like he didn’t understand what you meant, “Hm?” he hums.

You nod your chin toward his slightly bucking hips and let your head angle off to the side, “You’re rubbing against the edge of the table cause you-, mmngh.. you like this too.”

“Course’ I do,” Toji says rather hoarsely before leaning closer and moving his lips to hover over your head, “I’ve got a pretty woman lettin’ me rub her pussy with a gun like she trusts me with it.” Your breath hitches and his cock is pulsing angrily below, “Gettin’ wetter every time I do this,” Toji slinks the gun's slide down and parts your arousal-oozing folds and then chokes out a grunt, “So fuckin’ nasty, I love this shit.”

He teases you with the gun for a while and works you all the way up to the edge just to remove the weapon completely right when you’re about to cum. The way you cry out at the loss of your orgasm has him reaching his free hand down to start working his pants off and at least free his cock from its confines.

Simultaneously, he lifts that now soaked gun up to your face, tapping its tip against your lips and watching your lashes flicker. “Open up for me,” He whispers, to which you release a whine but listen oh-so-obediently, letting your jaw fall open and your tongue lull out. Toji immediately nudges the gun into your mouth and you look him directly in the eyes as you lick your own mess off of it. Earning a raspy, “Thereee you go, lick it all up.” from him.

The man lets you sit there and suck on the gun’s tip for a while so that he can shakily manage his needy cock out into the air. He gives himself a couple of lazy strokes as he watches you clean the entirety of the gun and then when you’re done, he pulls it away from you with a pleased smile.

“Tastes good, huh?” He teases.

You nod and let your tongue swipe out over your lips, “Sweet, yeah.”

That does it for him, hand leaving his length and coming up to your face instead.

“C’mere,” Toji’s searing. He’s all but lost it at this point, he can’t even think straight after hearing the way you called your own taste sweet. It was so fuckin’ nasty but confident that it made his head spin, lips sliding over yours just to dive his tongue into your mouth and capture your syrupy taste back onto his taste buds.

The kiss you two share is filthy and filled with needy groans and moans being poured into one another’s mouths as you hear him toss that gun elsewhere—the item clattering onto the floor off in the distance. Then both of his hands come up to cup your face and hold your head still while he fucks his tongue into your mouth, fighting a whine at the way you meet his energy.

You’re both drooling and drunk off of your own arousal to the point where you weren’t quite thinking straight. The sound of your lips sliding over his was almost louder than the way he ate you out. Hell, it’s almost nastier too. Toji only pulls away to thumb at your bottom lip again and then force your mouth to open wider for him just so he can spit onto your tongue and then smear his own right past your lips.

It was disgusting, really. Yet, not as disgusting as the way the head of his cock feels brushing against you a few moments later. You choke against him and tug your face back so you can look down and his tip is smothered in a glossy sheen of white, creeping forward with a light trickle of more cum that slips against your pretty folds. 

“Oh fuck,” You whisper unintentionally, lashes batting at the raw size of his cock in comparison to your cunt.

Toji’s cock was all heavy and bobbing desperately within the space between the two of you, his hip easing forward just so his plump tip could haphazardly get caught against your pussy. The moment one of his hands leaves your face and shoots down to angle himself to your entrance, you start whimpering at the sheer stretch of what was beginning to push into you.

“Oh, don’t do that, sweetheart,” He coos all sweetly as if he wasn’t breaking you open right now. Then he has the nerve to tilt his head and bring his lips to your ear again, “Spread yourself out f’me, c’mon, you can take it.” Toji murmurs, cock still nudging its big head into you, “Fuuck, you’re gonna take it, I know you will.”

Despite your whines and the way your arms drape around his neck and cling to him for dear life, your cunt was busy swallowing every inch he was giving you, almost as if you just couldn't get enough. “Toji, I-I can’t, pleease…” You’re whispering as your forehead rests on his shoulder, “S’too big.”

Toji can’t even help the way he smiles in reaction, “Y’sound so pretty when you whine like that,” He huffs, pulling a couple inches out of you as if to help you cope. Then he has the nerve to snicker, “That’ good enough for you? Huh?” You obviously shake your head, your hole quivering at the rude loss of his dick so suddenly. He fully expected that reply of yours so he’s quick to hook his arms under your knees and hold you while his thick cock slides all the way in, “Yeahhh, thought so. Pussy like this needs to be stuffed full, right?” He accentuates with one swift thrust. 

Your breath is knocked right out of your lungs as he hits deep, eyes rolling back and a moan flying past your drooly lips as you nod dumbly, “Uhuh.”

His hips reel back slowly and then he uses his grip on your legs to tug your cunt right back onto his cock, “Don’t mumble. Say, ‘yes, toji’.” He mocks.

The obscene squelches from your cunt that enter the air are almost louder than the way you answer him with a pretty purr of, “Yesss, Toji.”

His grunts are rivaling your moans by this point, especially with the way your weepy pussy was saturating every inch of his hard cock. You were fucked to tears in a matter of moments, feeling the way Toji was taking this as an opportunity to use you now.

And to think this was supposed to be your reward for catching him…

It’s not until you’re all cockdrunk and babbling about how good he feels inside you that he starts to heave a bit. Then he picks you up from the desk using his grasp and you almost lose your hold around his neck at the feeling of him bulging into your sweet spot, leaving you a gushing mess on him.

He had you in the air all effortlessly with those strong arms of his, letting gravity drag you back down onto his impaling dick every time he pumped himself forward. Huffing, “This is-, hahh, your last night here, right?”

You nod, “M-Mhm..”

Toji smiles, “Suppose’ I should leave ya’ with a lil’ parting gift then,” He suggests all of a sudden.

Your brows furrow a little and just as your eyes meet his, his hips pick up their pace and his cock is just thrashing all around your insides, a creamy mess of your cum having coated his staggering inches ages ago. Then you feel him twitching inside you and his thrusting is growing sloppier.

Oh.

The parting gift in question was of course him leaving you dripping with his cum, the mess of which drips down with sloppy little plp plp plps echoing out in between the rough slapping of your skin meeting his. And unbeknownst to you—while you were getting thick ropes of cum shot into your spongey walls—a certain someone had crept into the office you left.

When you stopped answering Shiu’s texts all of a sudden, he couldn’t help but grow worried and come by to check on you! So when he found you getting pounded by Toji off in one of the areas you honestly had no business ever stepping foot in, he also couldn’t help but take a seat in your chair and jerk off to the sight.

The cameras provided no sound but that was okay, those slutty looks on your face and the way Toji was stretching ‘n stuffing you were just enough to get him off.

So much for not fucking the scare actors, huh…

tags 1/2:

@2linaaeatsfamilies @scarletmoonshine0 @medusamara5 @needtoloveoutloud @lipstainedgemini

@kaofindj @d43dg1rl @mimiluvzu2 @lululemmington @choso-enthusiast

@brefninanami @stay0802 @chosos-prettyprincess @ersharyzst @blubearxy 

@ravenbc @sugarcoatedsoul @jay4luvsya @melancholic-cow @grignardsreagent 

@littlefuzzybabykitty @designerpvssy @chrysaoraa @noyaswrld @anonimedsk 

@matchaabliss @thiscornerofmyfanficbrain @fishosezo @midnightartist @mattsukitty 

@idkstrawbs @kenney7124 @didibxx @st4ryki @aeminrty 

@ifiwereabug @crispycatt @natasaa13 @broimherebcsimboredok @ellkaysdream

@mandistromboli @pussyeaterleah @theuniversesnepobaby @mollysails @ficrepostblog

Day 3 - Clothing kink

Day 4 - Cum play

Day 5 - Free use

Day 6 - Somnophilia

Day 7 - Double penetration

Day 8 - Daddy kink

Day 9 - Praise kink

Day 10 - Grinding

Day 11 - Corruption

Day 12 - Voyeurism

Day 13 - Brat taming

Day 14 - Mirror sex

Day 15 - Slapping kink

Day 16 - Breast play

Day 17 - Restraint play

Day 18 - Degradation

Day 19 - Lactation kink

Day 20 - Mutual masturbation

Day 21 - Cuck play

Day 22 - Dirty talk

Day 23 - Idle use

Day 24 - Oral kink

Day 25 - Size kink

Day 26 - Cockwarming

Day 27 - Edging

Day 28 - Easy access

Day 29 - Breeding kink

Day 30 - Seduction play

Day 31 - Group sex

All drabbles will be linked here once posted.

Heavy smut and dark themes.

Minors do not interact.

🍷 I’m so hyped for this—though idk if I’ll survive doing it daily with work in the way… let’s see how long I last 👀

Taglist is open !