izzy

You had one suitcase, one carry-on, and two friends who had been acting weird for the past hour. They had both insisted on taking you to the airport, and because you couldn't say no to either, all three of you took the same car. Both of them insisted on driving, and in grown men fashion, they settled the matter with a game of rock-paper-scissors. Beomgyu won, but the triumphant grin on his face lasted all of three seconds. The moment he slid into the driver's seat, Soobin opened the passenger door and dropped into the front seat before you could even reach for the handle. 

You blinked.

“Shotgun,” he exclaimed.

Beomgyu shot him an incredulous look. “You weren't even trying to get shotgun.”

“I am now.”

You laughed, completely missing the way Beomgyu's eye twitched.

The drive wasn't much different. Soobin spent most of it turned halfway around in his seat, talking to you from the front as if the distance between the backseat and passenger seat was unbearable. He started to recount every childhood story you two had, things Beomgyu knew nothing about. And Beomgyu wasn't much better. He pushed his seat as far back as it would go, and tried to change the conversation to all the moments you and him shared in college, events Soobin hadn’t lived with you.

“Eyes on the road,” Soobin reminded him for what felt like the tenth time.

“I'm looking.”

“You literally aren't.”

“I can multitask.”

“You absolutely cannot.”

You giggled from the backseat as they continued bickering. Soobin had always been a bit of a worrywart, constantly reminding people to be careful, asking if everyone got home safely, carrying medicine just in case someone needed it.

You didn’t know he only did that for you.

When you arrived at the airport parking lot, both boys fought about who was going to open the door for you. In the middle of their fight, without them noticing, you had opened your own door and grabbed your bags from the trunk. Next, naturally, they fought about who was going to carry your bags. Beomgyu, using the ‘what's that on your shirt’ trick on Soobin, managed to take your suitcase with a prideful smirk. Soobin had to resign to your carry-on, which was, in its totality, a baby pink with a little bow on the zipper. Regardless, he carried it with his head held high. You were sure that if it were up to them, they would also carry you all the way to the gate so your pretty feet didn't get tired. But they knew better than to suggest it. 

And now you were in front of the airport, one street to cross before your new journey started.

“So,” Beomgyu said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking somewhere slightly to the left of your face. “You're really leaving. To study abroad.”

“I am really leaving,” you confirmed. “To study abroad.”

“Cool.” He nodded. Swallowed. Looked at the sky. Looked at the pavement. Looked at the sky again. “Cool, cool, cool.”

Soobin, standing on your other side, exhaled very slowly through his nose. He needed to calm his nerves. He had been rehearsing for days. You didn't know that, but he had. Seventeen drafts in his notes app. Seventeen. But this last one was perfect, or so he had convinced himself. 

“I just want you to know,” Soobin began, “that some things... change. Over time. And people—”

“The flight's in three hours,” you said.

“—and people,” he continued, louder, “sometimes realize that what they felt all along, even when they were kids sharing juice boxes on the playground—”

“Apple juice is still better than orange.”

“—was actually something more.”

You raised an eyebrow at that.

Beomgyu cut in, physically stepping in front of Soobin with all the subtlety of a man who had been waiting for his moment. “Okay but can I just say something really quick.”

You nod your head. The airport was right in front of you. You had time.

“We've been best friends for how long?”

“Four years.”

“Four years,” he repeated, as if this were a courtroom and this was his closing statement. “Four years of inside jokes, three a.m. convenience store runs, me being there for you for every mental breakdown you had during exams, knowing your perfect ratio of soju and beer, holding your hand during every scary movie so you don't get scared—”

“You screamed during Coraline.”

“CORALINE IS TERRIFYING AND THAT'S NOT THE POINT.” He laughed a laugh you recognized immediately as the fake one, the one he used when he was nervous and trying to cover it. You stopped yourself from calling him out on it when he took a deep breath and actually looked at you, which he had been avoiding all morning. “The point is. I think... I think I might... there's something I've been meaning to—”

“Are you going to say it?”

He tensed his jaw.

“I'm very close,” he said.

Soobin squared his shoulders. This was it. He was going to say it. Choi Soobin, after twenty-three years of knowing you, was finally going to say it. 

“I don't want to ruin the friendship,” he exasperated.

“SAME,” Beomgyu gasped, pointing at him. “Me too. That's—yeah. Same.”

You stared at them both.

They stared back.

Five seconds passed.

“So neither of you,” you said slowly, “are going to say anything.”

“We didn't say that,” Beomgyu said.

“We're just... building up to it,” Soobin added.

Another five seconds passed. 

Then Beomgyu and Soobin looked at each other. 

“Okay,” Beomgyu said slowly, “but one of us has to say it before she gets on that plane.”

“Agreed,” said Soobin with a quick nod.

“So it should be me.”

“It should obviously be me, Beomgyu, we grew up together. I have history with her.”

“That's literally less impressive. I fell for her actual self, as an adult.”

“Okay, you need to stop saying it like that, it's making it sound weird—”

“You know what I mean—”

“Guys,” you said. They didn't hear you. Or they did, and chose not to.

“I have been waiting years,” Soobin hissed, slamming his hand on his chest, close to his heart. “Years of—of watching her grow up and thinking, wow, she's becoming into a wonderful adult—”

“I THINK SHE'S WONDERFUL TOO, I just arrived at that conclusion more efficiently. I even wrote a song and learned how to play it on the guitar. I was going to play it outside her window—”

Soobin blinked. “You wrote a song?”

“I wrote a song,” Beomgyu confirmed.

“Okay that's sweet…” Soobin admitted. Then he shook his head and straightened up. “But my confession was going to be more romantic. I had a whole plan. I was going to take her to the mountains right when the autumn festival starts—you know how she loves that kind of thing—and I was going to wait until the sun was almost gone and then—" He steps forward and digs his index finger onto the other boy's chest. “And you can't speedrun a lifelong bond!”

“Watch me—” Beomgyu elbowed Soobin, pushing him to the side in order to get in front of you.

“GUYS,” you tried again, louder this time.

Useless again, as they were now actively pushing each other on a public sidewalk over the right to say something neither of them had managed to say in a combined several years of friendship.

The stoplight was red. Had been red for a while. It was probably going to turn green soon. So you looked at them, looked at the crosswalk, and decided it was time to go. You picked up your suitcase, which Beomgyu had abandoned mid-argument, and took your pink tote from where it was dangling from Soobin's fingers.

You would text them from the gate.

You stepped off the curb and took a step forward. And at the exact moment, reaching across you to shove Soobin's shoulder, Beomgyu’s hand accidentally made contact with your shoulder instead. It was not a hard push. It was barely a nudge, really. A graze. A whisper of force. 

It was, unfortunately, enough.

You stumbled. One step too far into the road.

What happened next occurred in approximately one second and would be described differently by everyone who witnessed it. A bystander looked up from his phone. A pigeon took flight. Soobin's seventeen drafts flashed before his eyes in the same way your life is supposed to flash before yours.

A silver Porsche came through the intersection.

The driver was Joshua Hong. He was, at this particular moment, in the middle of a situation that was difficult to explain to anyone who wasn't already familiar with his very specific circumstances—mainly that his attention had been momentarily drawn to the passenger seat, where a certain someone had just informed him, very calmly, that she had no plans to return his powers anytime soon. He was, in his defense, going through a lot. The demon thing was complicated. The inappropriate thoughts were even more complicated. 

He saw you approximately half a second before impact. He felt terrible immediately. He would continue to feel terrible about it for a long, long time. The real reason being that his passenger would not let him forget it. She would bring it up at every opportunity.

The suitcase rolled into the other lane, stopping cars abruptly. Horns blared. A woman rushed toward your laying body, already calling for help.

Beomgyu and Soobin stood frozen on the curb.

“She's going to be fine,” Beomgyu said. “Right?”

“Someone already called an ambulance,” Soobin observed. “They should be here soon.”

Neither of them moved.

“That’s good.” Beomgyu whispered.

Soobin closed his eyes. “Yeah. She’ll be fine”.

Five seconds passed.

“The song was really good, by the way,” Beomgyu offered. “If it matters. I practiced for three months.”

Soobin opened his eyes and stared at the middle distance. “The festival has this whole love myth going on. It’s for couples.”

“She would have loved the song.”

“She would have loved the mountains.”

Across the street, Joshua Hong was apologizing to everyone in a five-meter radius while his passenger stood beside him with her arms crossed and an expression that communicated ‘I told you to watch the road’. 

He would have to pay the hospital bills.

End of story

(You were fine. Fractured wrist with a mild concussion. Your flight had to be rescheduled by two weeks. Joshua Hong sent a get-well card that had a rainbow unicorn on the cover. His passenger added a small note at the bottom corner, signed with her name, that said ‘sorry about him’. Beomgyu showed up to the hospital with your favorite flowers. Soobin showed up a minute later with your favorite snacks. They got into a hushed argument in the hallway about who had gotten there first. Neither of them confessed. And if you're being honest, you had known for a while. About both of them. You weren't sure what you were going to do about it. But your flight was rescheduled. You had two weeks. Maybe they'd figure it out.)

𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚒'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: i'm not going to add this to my masterlist. i just wanted to prove a point as to why I HATE THESE TROPES. i'm expecting y'all to write yeonjun for me now thanks. it must be real weird reading this without ctaching all the references i'm making lmao.

He doesn't say anything else after, driving off. You look out of the window, making sure to watch carefully where he is headed. You can't tell him no no matter how hard you try, though. So after a few minutes, you finally ask. "Where are you taking me?"

"I have a contract that expires today."

You frown, averting your eyes from the outside and staring at him. "What now?"

"A contract. Surely you know what that is."

"I'm not stupid," you roll your eyes, annoyed. There it is. You like this reaction much more than the one you had before when he used his sweet words to lure you in. "What on Earth do you need me for?"

"My powers are gone," he mumbles as if that were to make any sense to you. You watch his hands grip the steering wheel tighter, making sure to keep his eyes on the road and not look at you. You tilt your head to the side. Okay. Maybe this isn't some sick joke he is playing on you. He looks seriously pissed. "And for some stupid reason—" he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, "You have them."

"Joshua, I bet you sound really incredible in your own head and that these metaphors make sense to you but—" You don't get to finish your sentence as he reaches for your right wrist, leaning all over the consol to get to you. Your eyes widen, panic over him not having a proper control of the wheel taking over you for a split second. But then the car keeps going in a straight line, no dangerous slips or anything.

"I have no idea why they suddenly jumped to you, but I can't use them without holding you." His eyes look tired. You don't even think he's angry anymore, he just seems exhausted. "Trust me, I tried," he sighs, letting his eyes close for a second. The panic settles in you all over again. How the hell is this car still going safe and steady?

"Joshua, the car—"

"The car won't crash as long as I'm holding your wrist," he assures you, way too calm for your liking. No matter what he believes, what metaphors he is spitting at you hoping you'd understand, this doesn't make any sense. "What do I need to do to have you believe me?"

"Let's start by you paying attention to the road—" Doing the exact opposite of what you just asked him for, he lets go of the wheel completely, leaning back in his seat and gripping your wrist tightly. You watch as the wheel turns on it's own, the car taking a left turn. What the fuck? No, this doesn't— this isn't— "What the fuck?" You breathe out finally.

"Will you finally listen or do I need to let go of your hand and crash the car first?"

Okay, you need to relax. Your eyes flicker all over his calm self, trying to mimic it. The car isn't crashing, you tell yourself. You have no idea how, but he's got it under control. You'll live. "Okay so," you swallow all your worries, turning to face him fully and avoid looking at the road. "What the fuck?" You repeat your previous question, now actually willing to hear his answer.

"I'm not lying to you," his eyes meet yours, doing their best to convince you. "This mark—this tattoo like you like to call it—is not just some ink on your skin. It's mine. And it carries everything I exist for."

So maybe you've gotten Joshua Hong wrong. Maybe he isn't a spoiled brat who never had to work a finger in his childhood which caused him to grow into an asshole. Maybe he is just a mentally ill psycho. That would explain everything, wouldn't it?

But the longer you look into his eyes, the harder it is to think he doesn't believe with every inch of him that what he says is true. What if it is the truth? What if, by some sick twist of the universe, the mark on your wrist does have powers than are now in your body. What if he does have powers? What if there is an entire new world beyond what you've known and trusted your entire life?

You don't say anything else. You can't. The words won't leave your mouth. Instead, you lean back in your seat, staring mindlessly on the road ahead as Joshua drives the car to who knows where—still refusing to put his hands on the wheel.

The car comes to a sudden stop after taking a swift turn. It's only then that you blink out of your thoughts, quickly scanning your surroundings. You're parked in front of a judo studio. Huh? You look at Joshua to question why he took you here, but before you can voice your curiosity, he is leaning over your side, making a little finger gun and whispering, "bang."

Your eyes trail his, landing on a group of four guys standing in front of the entrance. They each have their own gym bag over their shoulder, laughing as soon as they see you in the car. Based on Joshua's proud grin as he leans back in his seat again, you have a hunch they aren't laughing at you but at him. Glancing back at them to apologize, your eyes widen in horror as you watch one of them fall to the ground. "What—" The rest of the men quickly gather around the fallen one, asking what's happening, asking the same you're wondering as Joshua starts the car again and quickly drives off.

"Did you just kill the guy??" You question, petrified.

"The terms of our deal came to an end," he says simply. "He killed himself."

perm taglist: @beomiracles @adel222 @liaatiny @cherrylovescheol @bamgeutsz @codeinebelle @livelaughloveseventeen @xylatox @cristy-101 @assoulacaratassil @ladytree @nonuverse @fairyprincesslvr21 @cheolcheolieee008 @yvampyr @bramos91 @amisuh @lunaxgyu @livmarauder @evemds @nanilis @eskoupe @ashleytjw @jaja-salute @thegalaxyisunfolding

THE CHILDHOOD PROMISE

Joshua would say that a part of him always felt like something was missing.

At the age of eight, he remembers traveling to Seoul for the first time with his mother. It was a spontaneous trip, something that his mother had decided just a week before. However, Joshua was young and going anywhere felt like a new journey.

As he held onto his mother's hand, he remembers his eyes widening at the sight of all the cherry blossoms in the park and pointing them out to his mother.

"Mum! Look!" He said, glancing upwards towards his mother. "There's so many of them!"

His mother laughed as Joshua tugged her towards the trees, eager to get a closer look. A breeze swept through the park, making the cherry blossoms sway as a couple of loose ones fell around the two of them.

Joshua pulled his hand away from his mothers as he began jumping up and down, trying to catch a few, intrigued by how pretty the blossoms looked. His mother watched, her smile widening more if possible as she felt her heart swell at how cute her son looked at this moment. His tiny bunny hops increasing by the minute as he kept reaching for a singular cherry blossom to land in his hand.

Her hand covered her mouth as she tried her best not to giggle at Joshua's little disappointed grunts, each time the cherry blossom floating past his hand. She wondered how long it will take for him to give up on his quest and pick one up from the ground instead. However, she knew her son well enough to know that Joshua was never one to let adversity get him down, that he was stubborn enough to continue until he got his way.

A trait that he no doubt picked up from her.

Joshua, oblivious to his mother's stares, stopped his jumps, trying to figure out how to complete his mission. He gazed at the falling blossoms before his eyes locked onto two that were coming right towards him. He narrowed his eyes and bent his knees before he jumped as high as he could, his hands reaching out as high as he could, feeling as if they were going to rip out of their sockets before clenching his fists so hard, he knew his hands were going to turn red.

Joshua's mother watched as her son missed his footing and landed on his bum with a hard thump, making her eyes widen as she raced over to him.

"Joshua?!" His mother exclaimed as she reached his side and crouched down beside him. Her eyes darted from his face to his bum and legs as she assessed him for any injuries. "Are you alright?!"

Joshua, however, didn't hear any of his mother's questions and just peered at his hand. His heart pulsed hard in anticipation as he slowly opens both his hands, feeling something in both of them.

His eyes widen, lighting up as he feels the silky smooth petals in both his palm as his endorphins skyrocket.

He whipped his head up to meet his mother's eyes, giving her a slight shock at the big grin on his face.

He eagerly shoved his hands in-front of her eyes, making his mother's head tilt backwards as she peered at the light pink petal in one of his hands and two white ones in the other.

"I got them!" Joshua said giddily, his hands animatedly swaying a little from the excitement that was rushing through his veins. "I actually got them!"

His mother's face changed to one of relief and amusement, feeling the worry seep away from her veins from her little boy's bright grin as he showcased the flowers in his hands. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she helped Joshua stand up, dusting off his pants as he did.

"Be more careful next time." Joshua heard his mother mutter as she gave him one last look. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Joshua furrowed his eyebrows at her words, a frown on his lips as he felt a little bit of guilt seep into his veins. "I'm sorry." He softly said, his doe eyes shimmering which makes his mother sigh as she shook her head.

"It's alright, sweetheart." She said, brushing his hair softly.

"I just wanted to catch one to give to you because it was pretty." Joshua muttered, his eyes flitting down to his shoes for a split second as he lifted the hand with the pink petal in it, stretching it towards his mother.

Her heart warmed at the sight as she watched Joshua gnaw on his bottom lip nervously. She reached out and took the cherry blossom in between her fingers, a small smile appearing on her face as she did so.

"You're such a sweet boy, Joshua." She softly stated, her eyes pricking a little with tears as she watched Joshua peer upwards at her.

"Really?" He asked softly, his doe eyes melting his mother more which made her nod, her smile getting bigger by the second.

"Really." She placed her hands on her knees as she stood up, stretching a little as she does. She spotted an ice cream cart not too far from them, giving her an idea. "And since you're so sweet," She peered downwards to her son. "I think you deserve a sweet treat. Don't you agree?"

Joshua's eyes widened at her words, spotting what his mother was talking about as he nodded excitedly. Joshua's mother lets out a laugh at how excited he was.

"How about you sit down underneath the cherry blossom tree and wait for me?" His mother suggested sweetly as she gestured towards the tree that was not too far away from where they were standing. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Joshua nodded frivolously at his mother's words before he sprinted towards the tree and plopped himself onto the ground, eager to please his mother as he excitedly waited for his sweet treat.

He brings up his right hand that held the two white petals that he caught before, pride blooming in his chest as he felt the texture in between his fingers. He smiled, feeling the smoothness of the petals as he peered up to take in what the world had to offer.

The birds were chirping, the petals were gracefully falling and he felt as though he was on top of the world. Nothing was going to break the serene, peaceful environment that he was in.

"MUMMY? DADDY?"

Except for that.

Joshua jumped, hearing the yells as he whipped his head around to the source with his eyebrows furrowed.

Who was doing all that god-awful yelling?

That was when he noticed you.

You looked around his age, maybe a year or two younger than he was, in a fluffy polka-dotted skirt with a pink unicorn top as well as… bunny ears?

Joshua frowned at the weird get-up, not knowing why you were doing all this yelling before he noticed that you were crying. The realization made him frown even more as he analyzed you. Why were you crying?

He watched you clutch the bunny that you had in your hands, tighter to your chest as you sniffled and looked around anxiously.

Joshua's eyebrows furrowed even more as his emotions wrestled internally at the sight. Should be go up and talk to you?

His answer came to him as he heard you let out another watery yell, this one more distressed than the last which pushed away all thought of going back to pretending as if he didn't see you. Because that's not how his mother had raised him to be.

He stood up, dusted off his pants just like his mother did a few minutes ago before he walked over to you, concern etched onto his face with a frown to tie it all together.

You, on the other hand, were trapped in your own world. You didn't know how you had gotten here. One moment, you were holding hands with your mother and your father, admiring all the cherry blossom trees, the next, you were all alone. You did get slightly distracted by something that looked an awful lot like a bunny and left them but you were smart! You retraced your steps as your parents had taught you but when you had reached the cherry blossom tree that they were at, they weren't there.

Panic had started coursing through your veins at the thought of being left behind, making tears prick your eyes as you called out for them. You were tired, hungry, and just wanted to go home at this point. You rubbed away a few stray tears, ready to give up when a voice broke all your thoughts.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped at the sudden voice, whipping around to see a boy with the prettiest doe eyes that you've ever seen, dressed in a comfortable woolly jacket that was a little too big for him, denim jeans as well as some really cute sneakers. You looked at his face and how concerned he looked before shaking your head in response.

"No." You sniffled out. "I can't find my parents."

Joshua's eyes widened in response as he started to whip his head in every direction, trying to see if there were any distressed parents who were looking for you, as you had just been looking for them.

"Where did you last see them?" He asked softly.

"Under this tree." You admitted, hugging your bunny impossibly tighter to your chest as you tried to soothe your nerves. "I was bad... I saw this bunny and ran off when they weren't looking so it's all my fault."

Joshua frowned more at the admittance as he stepped closer to you before bringing you into a hug, just like his mother had taught him to do whenever he saw someone that was upset. He felt you soak his woolly sweater a little with your tears but he didn't care at that point. All he saw was this sad and scared little girl who needed a hug.

He pulled away, making you peer up at him with your boba shaped eyes.

"I am sure they are looking for you!" Joshua reassured before gesturing over to the tree. "Do you want to wait with me? My mom will be back soon with ice cream!"

Your eyes widened at that, "Ice cream?" You asked, hope in your tone which made the boy nod eagerly before taking your free hand into his and flashed you a gigantic, handsome grin.

"Let's go!"

He tugged you back to his spot under the tree as he plopped back down onto the ground before he pat the empty space next to him, a gesture that he wanted you to take a seat as well. You sit, placing your stuffed bunny on your lap, fidgeting slightly with the ears when Joshua spoke up again.

"My name is Joshua and I am eight years old this year!" He introduced, the smile on his face never fading as he held up eight fingers for you to see, just to solidify his point. You repeated his name making Joshua's smile grow even wider as he nodded at your pronunciation. "What's yours?"

You chewed on your bottom lip before softly telling him your name and that you're six years old this year. He repeated it, just like you had done before with his.

"That's a really cool name!" He admitted making your cheeks flush a little at tho boy in-front of you, who seemed so excited at just any words that leave your mouth.

"Thank you." You responded shyly, your hands still fidgeting with the bunny ears. Joshua buzzed a little with excitement at the fact that he had made a new friend, his mother would be so proud of him!

"We're friends now!" He said, nodding with a big smile on his face as your heart soars at the thought of making a new friends, your nerves slowly melting away.

Joshua gave you a once over before pointing to your bunny. "Does your bunny have a name?"

You glanced downwards to the stuffed toy in your hands before looking back up at him and nodding. "Her name is Penny." Joshua smiled at you as you outstretched your arms out to him with Penny in them, letting him have a better look at your support toy. "My mummy got him for me when she went to America last week!"

Joshua's eyes widened, "Wait really?!" He asked, excitedly scooting closer to you. You nod, a little confused by his outburst.

"I'm from America! My mummy and I are here on holiday!" He watches as your eyes widen at his words, your jaw dropping open.

"That's so cool!" You managed to get out, making the boy nod along with your words. He watched you fidget with the bunny ears once more before pointing upwards at the trees.

"Do you like the pretty trees?" Joshua asked as he peered upwards to see more cherry blossoms failing over the top of your heads as another gust of wind blew past.

You eyes lit up a little at the question as you nodded. "My mummy said that they're called cherry blossoms." You stated, peering upwards as well to look at the pretty blossoms that were cascading downwards. "She also said that there are over two hundred different ones!"

Joshua's eyes widened at your fun fact as his jaw dropped open slightly. "Two hundred??" It was a lot for his little eight-year old brain to comprehend. "That's more than the numbers that we learn in class!"

You let out a giggle, caught off-guard at the exclamation which made Joshua's heart soar more. He made you laugh! He was pleased with himself, he was doing everything that his mother had taught him about being a good gentleman.

Joshua continues on his tangent, distracting you as you shared more fun facts about the spring season with him. You giggling every once in a while which spurred Joshua on more. Your nerves and panic slowly seeped away from your veins as you continued to talk to Joshua, getting more and more interested about the boy in-front of you.

"Do you live here in Seoul?" Joshua asked, making you nod.

"I live pretty close to the park." You softly admitted, looking up to scan at the different buildings before pointing in a direction. "Over that way!"

Joshua's eyes widened at your admittance before his hand flew to yours to tug it back down. "You can't tell people where you live!"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not telling people… I'm telling you."

Joshua shook his head at your words. "But what if I'm a total stranger! You shouldn't be going around telling people that."

"But aren't we friends?" You asked softly, tilting your head to the side and making Joshua's heart jump a little. He internally frowned at that motion, unsure of why his heart was acting this way but he pushed it away in-order to correct you.

"We are!" He corrected, raising his hands in surrender, scared that you were about to cry once again. "But you shouldn't tell people that."

Your eyebrows furrowed even more, opening your mouth as you were about to retort when a woman's voice interrupts you.

"Shua, here's your ice— oh!" The two of you turned towards the sound of the voice, seeing Joshua's mother stood there with two cups of ice-cream in her hand. "Who is this?"

Joshua smiled before gesturing towards you proudly. "My new friend!" He admitted making you nod shyly as he tells his mother your name.

His mother looked between the two of you before giving you a smile. "Nice to meet you!" She said softly as she passed Joshua his ice-cream. "Where are your parents, sweetheart?"

Joshua watched as your smile dropped before going back to fidgeting with the bunny ears before he turned to his mother. "She lost her parents a little while ago." He admitted softly, glancing at you as he said it, hoping that it wouldn't set you off crying again.

His mother's expression changed to one of understanding. "Ah… I see." She turned to you, crouching down to your height, her eyes filled with empathy as she analyzed you. "Do you know their phone number by any chance, sweetheart? Anything that we could use to call them?"

You thought for a moment before nodding your head. "I know my daddy's number." You softly admitted which made Joshua's mother's eyes light up.

"Wow! You're such a smart girl." She cooed, patting your head as she took a quick glance at Joshua. "I've been trying to get Shua to remember my number for over a year now and he still forgets."

"Mom!" Joshua whined, making you giggle as his mother shoot you a wink and handed you her phone for you to put your father's number into before she turned to her son.

"But it's the truth!"

Joshua pouted at his mother's words but it cracked slightly as he watched you giggle, feeling his heart warm at the sight of your toothy smile.

He glanced down towards the cup of chocolate ice-cream in his hands before outstretching it out to you. "Would you like to share?"

He watched you blink in surprise. "You want to share with me?"

Joshua nodded eagerly at your question. "Of course! We're friends now." He said, scooting a little closer to you. "Being friends means that we share everything! Including ice-cream." He glanced up at his mother. "Isn't that right, mum?"

His mother felt pride bloom in her chest at her son's words and actions before she nodded. "That's right, sweetheart."

Joshua smiled at his mother's answer before placing the cup of ice-cream between the two of you and offered you the first bite. You shyly take the spoon from him before you scooped up a small bit of the ice-cream and placed it into your mouth.

Your eyes widen at the burst of sweet flavours coating your tongue as Joshua let out a giggle as he watched you take more of the ice-cream before playfully telling you that you needed to share.

His mother's heart warmed at the sight of the two of you sharing that singular cup of chocolate ice-cream. She felt her lips tick upwards, a small smile gracing her face before she dialed the number on her phone.

Not more than twenty minutes later, your parents arrived, their faces etched with relief at the sight of you happily playing with a boy who looked slightly older than you were.

"Bunny!" The childhood nickname and voice made you perk up as you turned to see your parents race towards you. You jumped up, your heart beating fast as you met them halfway and jumped into your mother's warm embrace.

Your mother cried a little as she patted your head, smoothing out your hair as your father went up to Joshua's mother, shaking her hand and rapidly thanking her for taking such good care of their daughter.

Joshua felt himself internally wrestle with the feelings in his chest. He was happy that your parents were here to get you and you looked so relived that they did, but he wasn't sure if he was ever going to see you again. Him and his mother were leaving back to LA in a few days and they had a lot of plans.

A slight tug at his sweater brought him out of his thoughts as he noticed you were standing right in-front of him, your head tilted to the side as you gave him a quizzical look.

"Are you okay?" You asked, your voice soft and sweet which brought a smile to Joshua's face as he nodded, obscuring his sad emotions and thoughts from you.

"Of course!" He hummed out, glancing behind you to see your parents and his mother talking. "I'm glad your parents are here."

You nodded, a small smile on your face as silence enveloped the two of you.

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked him softly, your eyes locked with his as they shimmered with a pretty sparkle sheen. Joshua felt his heart sink at the question, knowing that he had just wondered that a few minutes ago before you brought him out from his thoughts.

"I'm not sure…" Joshua answered honestly, making you nod, a little sadly, a small pout forming on your lips. Joshua gave you a once over as your eyes stayed locked on your shoes, obviously a little sad that you had to go and you might never see the doe-eyed boy again when he got an idea.

He fished around his sweater pockets and pulled out the two white cherry blossoms that he had caught earlier in the day.

"Here." He said softly, outstretching one of the petals towards you. Your eyes widened as you glanced upwards at the taller boy. "Something to remember me by." You shakily take the petal from Joshua, running your fingers across the petals gently as Joshua held up his own.

"See, now we're matching." Joshua told you, a small on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. You continue to stare at the petal, stoning a little which made Joshua a little nervous. "Don't tell me you're going to miss me already?" Joshua joked, trying to lighten the mood as his nerves spiked from how you weren't looking at him.

He wanted to add on another light jab to lighten the mood when you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him, nearly tackling him to the ground. He let out a grunt as you hit his chest with a hard thud, almost knocking the air out his chest as he stabilized the two of you.

Joshua slowly wrapped his arms around you, feeling the sad emotions that he tried to push away, overwhelm him a little more as he felt your warmth envelope him.

"I'm going to miss you." He heard you mutter out, slightly muffled as you bury your head deeper into his woolly sweater. He sighed, burying his face into your hair.

"I'll miss you too, Bunny." He whispered out, using the nickname that he heard your mother call you by. It was really apt for you, with how soft spoken you were, how you quietly observed everything around you. Joshua couldn't help but feel that the nickname was just meant for you. That the word was designed just for you.

"Tell you what." Joshua started softly, pulling away from you a little to see your face. "For as long as you keep that petal." He gestured to the white cherry blossom in your hand. "I will always find you."

Your eyes widened at his words before you pulled away completely, lifting your hand up to the boy, with your pinky being the only finger out, waiting for the boy to give you a pinky promise.

"Swear on it!" Joshua couldn't help but laugh at the sight of you and how serious you were taking this, but, he lifted his own hand and joined his pinky with yours.

The childhood promise sealed between a six year old girl with the nickname Bunny and an eight year old boy who had eyes like Bambi.

"Can I call you Bambi?" You wondered aloud which made Joshua blink at you before he let out a soft laugh as he nodded. "Sure, Bunny."

The two of you let out a fit of giggles before your mother called for you, gesturing that you needed to go. You looked between her and your father before looking at the boy in-front of you, not wanting to leave so soon.

Joshua, however, sensed the hesitation in your figure. He didn't want you to leave yet either but it was getting late and he knew that your parents wanted to get you home and safe and make it up to you so he gave you a reassuring smile.

"You should go." He said softly, giving your head a small pat. "I'm sure your parents are taking you out to eat something really nice."

He watched you chew on your bottom lip before you nod and squeezed Joshua in one last hug before you step away from the boy.

"See you soon, Bambi."

Joshua's heart warmed at the nickname. "See you soon, Bunny."

You gave him one last glance over before you ran over to where your parents stood, taking your mother's hand into yours as Joshua's mother walked back over to his side.

You and your parents started to walk away, towards the pathway where the small stream and bridge were. Joshua felt his mother grab his hand and laced their fingers together but his focus remained on you and where you were.

He watched you take one last pause as you turned to look at him as you gave him one last wave which he returned, the smile on his face turning into a sadder one. With that, he watched you turn back around and exit the park with your parents, going the way that you had pointed out earlier when he had asked where you lived.

His heart felt heavy and he didn't know why. The two of you had just met. However, something told the eight year old boy that he would see you soon. He didn't know when or how but he had hope that he would. He had to.

"Ready to go?" His mother asked, the question gently coaxing the boy out of his thoughts. Joshua nodded, giving his mother a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah." He softly admitted, letting himself take one last glance towards where you had been just moments ago. "Let's go."

Joshua felt around in his pocket as he gently caressed the white blossom in it as he and his mother exit the park. His wrist felt warm for some reason, but decided to attribute it to the sweater and moved on to wonder about something happier, like what he and his mother were going to have for dinner.

Unbeknownst to him, a few months later, he would find a small mark on his wrist that looked oddly like the white cherry blossom that he had given the little girl to make sure that she would always remember him.

What a twist of fate.

THE THING ABOUT SECOND CHANCES

The next time Joshua arrived in Seoul, he was eighteen years old.

Fresh out of high school and having just been scouted by Pledis Entertainment. He anxiously rubbed the white cherry blossom mark on his wrist, a habit that he picked up after it had appeared.

He didn't remember when it had appeared or why it did but after having so many talks with his mother and the doctor or specialist that his mother had taken him to. He had a soulmate, someone with a similar mark on their wrist.

Joshua had grown up hearing about soulmates from his mother. It wasn't uncommon to have a soulmate but only about fifty percent of the world had one. Joshua didn't know if it was luck or not to be one of the few to have one because he didn't even know who it was. He had a feeling he knew but he didn't know if he would ever see you again.

You plague his thoughts every once in a while. He isn't even sure if you remember him but he remembers you. The soft spoken girl from under the cherry blossom trees that he had given the white cherry blossom to. It had to be you and he had asked his mother to try and reach out to your father, the number having been dialed in her phone before but it seemed that when she did, your father had changed his number.

So he had lost all hope of ever getting into contact with you again. Until the Pledis global auditions came and now, he was actually in Korea.

He had been here for a few months, training tirelessly with the rest of his members and learning more Korean at the same time. It definitely wasn't as good compared to when he was younger but he felt himself getting better by the day with the help of Vernon and the other members who volunteered to teach him sometimes, in exchange for learning some english.

Safe to say, he might be doing better at learning Korean than the rest of his members who wanted to learn English. He chuckled a little at the memory as he prepared to go out for the day.

It was one of the rare few days off that the company had given them, having passed all the auditions to get into Seventeen and actually make the line-up. The company decided to give the day off before they needed to return to prepare even more tirelessly for their debut.

He fidgeted with the bracelet that his mother had given him, made out of white cherry blossom that he had caught that faithful day almost ten years ago.

"What are your plans for today?" Joshua turned, seeing Seungcheol leaning against the doorframe to his shared room with Seokmin and Seungkwan.

Joshua took a quick glance towards his wrist before his eyes flitted back up to meet Seungcheol's. "Thought about going to see the cherry blossoms today." Joshua answered coolly, a small smile on his face.

Seungcheol's eyes flit downwards to Joshua's wrist for a split second before he nodded towards it. "Hoping to see her again?"

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were the only two to know about Joshua's mysterious mark. Joshua hadn't meant for any of the members to find out, but he had been careless, and the makeup that he had put on the wrist had gotten wet by accident. He shouldn't have chosen to not use a waterproof concealer that day. It resulted in not only the general leader seeing the mark that stained his skin, but Joshua's evil twin as well.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan had pulled Joshua right after that to reapply the makeup, careful to not let the staff see them or the cherry blossom. Seungcheol shot the two of them a look which stated that they would talk about this later. Hence, Joshua instead told the both of them everything right after practice, in the safe space of Seungcheol and Jeonghan's dorm room that they shared with Mingyu and Jihoon.

The two of them had been understanding (to Joshua's delight) and also a little annoying about it (to Joshua's dismay). Jeonghan had taken the opportunity to do a small little jab every time one of the other members brought up even the idea of having a soulmate to the others.

Seungcheol would shoot a warning look towards Jeonghan the first few times it happened, but after many unsuccessful tries of getting Jeonghan to quit it, he decided to join him instead.

If you can't beat them, join them.

Joshua spared another glance towards his wrist. "Yeah." He answered truthfully. "It's been ten years but… I'm still holding out hope that I will."

Seungcheol was quiet at that, an unreadable expression on his face before he sighed. "Just… be careful." He sounds out, the double meaning of the sentence not lost on the younger man.

"I will." Joshua assured which makes Seungcheol look over him once more before nodding and leaving the room.

"Remember to bring an umbrella." Seungcheol called out from the hallway. "The forecast said that it's going to rain."

Joshua's eyebrows furrowed at his words, turning his head to look out at the bright clear sky that showed no signs of rain at all. Joshua let out a sigh as he shook his head. Seungcheol has definitely been spending too much time around Jeonghan. Hell, Jeonghan probably put him up to this to see if Joshua would actually bring an umbrella out because he knew better than to trust Jeonghan after the raincoat incident.

Joshua glanced at the umbrella at his desk before shaking his head at it and shouldering the sling bag that he had packed his camera into and wearing the bracelet that his mother made for him.

He stepped out of the dormitories, the sun greeting him with it's warm glow making him take a deep inhale of the spring air, feeling himself get more refreshed by the second. He smiled to himself as he started heading towards the park.

On a beautiful day like this… what could go wrong?

The answer was everything.

Absolutely everything.

The minute Joshua had arrived at the faithful park, the sky had dimmed and the beautiful morning that he had seen was immediately replaced with the darkest clouds the world has ever seen.

As soon as he stepped off the bus, it had started to drizzle and then it started to pour making Joshua realize that Seungcheol had been right. It was forecasted to rain today.

And when it rains, it certainly pours.

Which is how Joshua ended up here, underneath the faithful tree that had brought the two of you together that day and under the pouring rain. Spring rain was definitely a sight to see. It was his first time experiencing spring after he had moved to Korea but it was his second time overall. The first being ten years ago which was where he had discovered that he loved rain in the first place.

Joshua let out a sigh as he inhaled the smell of the rain, instantly feeling more relaxed than he did a few moments before. He really loved the rain. It was refreshing and walking in the rain was definitely an experience that makes him feel at peace.

His members called him crazy for that but there was just something about the rain that brought out the tranquility of his soul. It reminded him a lot of home and spring rain was definitely the best kind of rain that anyone can experience because April Showers had definitely become a favourite of his.

He felt the urge to go back out into the rain and just let it cascade down his body and hair when he was interrupted by the sounds of squeaky sneakers coming from behind him. He peered around the tree and noticed a girl, slightly younger than he was, dressed in a pink raincoat that had cherry blossom sketches around it and… bunny ears?

His eyebrows furrowed at the unique combination as he heard the girl huff out a breath.

"Stupid spring rain…" He heard the girl mutter as she ruffled her raincoat, trying to get the excess water off. "I normally really love you but I didn't want it to rain today…"

Joshua didn't know whether to be scared of the girl who was talking to herself but she looked like she was having a bad day. "Are you alright?"

The girl jumped at his sudden question, shocking her and himself as she places a hand over her heart.

"Geez, dude!" The girl yelled out. "Where did you come from?!"

Joshua blinked at the girl. "Erm." He looked around the two of them. "I was actually here first."

The girl blinked at him before giving him a deadpanned look. "Whatever, dude." She muttered out as she crouched down to play with the grass. "Stupid rain."

Joshua stared at the girl for a few more seconds. "Do you hate the rain or something?"

The girl scoffed at his words before shaking her head. "Not that it's any of your business." She began, poking around the grass still. "I actually really love the rain."

"Then why—"

"Because it's the start of the blossoms today." She softly admitted, picking up one of the semi-muddy cherry blossoms that had dropped off the tree because of the rain. "My mother really loves them and I wanted to take a few pictures of them to frame as a surprise for her birthday next week and today is the only free day that I have open."

Joshua took a few moments to digest the words coming out of the girl's mouth and let out a sound of understanding. "That's sweet." He said, making the girl let out a hum.

"Well, but the plan is ruined now…" She muttered out, losing more and more interest in the grass as the seconds whizz by. "I guess I won't be getting her a present this year."

Joshua frowned at the girls words, feeling slightly empathetic for the girl before his mother's teachings kicked into his being. He peered upwards at the sky, seeing it begin to clear slightly before turning back to the girl in distress.

"Does your mother like the spring rain too?" He found himself asking making the girl whip around, a frown etched onto her face as she tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Yes." She frowned even more. "But I don't see how that would—"

"Give me your camera." Joshua finds himself saying, making the girl stare at him, slightly stunned.

"I'm sorry?" She asked, wondering if she had heard the boy wrong.

Joshua pointed at the camera in the girl's backpack. "What if we use your camera to frame you, the cherry blossoms and the ending of the spring rain in one picture?" He gestured to the clouds above as the rain starts to slow down. "The spring shower is ending soon and I think it will create the perfect opportunity for me to help you snap a photo because of the effect that the April shower will create."

He watched as the girl digested his words and the cogs turned in her brain before her eyes widened.

"You're a genius stranger!"

Joshua couldn't help but laugh at the nickname the girl gave him as they scrambled to get the shot set up.

By the time that the rain had almost totally slowed down, they were ready, with the girl's camera in Joshua's hands and the girl standing a little uncomfortably in the shot.

"Are you sure, she would want me to be in the photo?" The girl found herself asking the stranger in-front of her. "She might just want the April shower and cherry blossoms you know?"

Joshua shook his head stubbornly and surely. "I can assure you, this is the best present for her."

The girl shot him a skeptical look before begrudgingly accepting her fate and posed in-front of the cherry blossom tree with her pink bunny raincoat.

Joshua snapped a few shots here and there, giving her a bit of direction every now and then as he felt his synapses in his brain fire around it. The more that he looked at this girl, the more she looked kind of familiar to him.

He tried brushing that thought aside, thinking that he was crazy as he took one last final photo for the girl as the sky began to clear and the rain drizzled to the a stop.

"And…" Joshua trailed off, looking at the last photo that he took, a satisfied smile on his face. "We're done!"

The girl rushed over to Joshua's side, eager to see the photos that the boy had just taken. As she clicked through them, her eyes widened as they flitted between the camera screen and the boy standing next to her.

"Woah." She softly stated as she continued to flip through the photos. "These are really good." She turned to Joshua, a toothy grin on her face. "Thank you so much."

Joshua gave her a grin back as he shook his head. "Small thing." He said as he gestured to the photos. "You did all the hard work by modeling for it!"

The girl lets out a laugh as the sun peeked through the clouds that were still in the sky. She peered downwards at the watch that was on her wrist before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Well, I need to get going." She said, shutting her camera down and putting it into her backpack. "Thank you so much for helping me with this."

Joshua waved her off. "It was my pleasure."

"Is there anything that I can do to repay you?"

Joshua pondered for a moment before his mind went back to you which made him glance at the cherry blossom tree.

"Know any fun facts about cherry blossom trees?"

The girls eyebrows raised in response. "That's a weird question." She stated, giving him a weird side-eye. Joshua shrugged in response.

"I just like fun facts."

The girl stared at him for a few seconds before she opened her mouth and said, "Did you know that the the biggest cherry blossom capital in the world is actually in Macon, Georgia, which holds over three hundred thousand cherry trees?"

Joshua's eyes widened at her response. "Wait that's so interesting."

The girl gave him a satisfied smile, "My mother is a big cherry blossom nerd." She said, picking up her backpack. "She shares a lot of different fun-facts with me and also made me this."

She pulled out a pendant from inside her clothing that was tied to a necklace. Joshua gazed closer at the pendant as his eyes widened bigger.

"Is that a white cherry blossom infused into the resin and made into a pendant?"

The girl nodded proudly. "Yep!"

"That's insane." Joshua commended, taking a step away from the girl. "I really commend your mother."

"Yeah." The girl let out a satisfied hum. "She is pretty cool." The girl smiled at the fond memory of her mother giving her the necklace. "She made this necklace for me because some boy gave me this cherry blossom many years ago when they thought that I went missing or something."

Joshua felt his whole being freeze when she said that and blinked at the girl in-front of him who was fidgeting with the pendant around her neck.

"What?" He heard himself whisper aloud making the girl nod.

"Yeah, he was really sweet and nice and he apparently shared an ice cream with me." The girl took another glance at her watch before her eyes widened, becoming as big as saucers.

"Holy shit!" She yelled out as she slung her backpack across her shoulders. "I'm late!"

Joshua found himself panicking slightly. "Wait—" He said, trying to get your attention.

You, however, gave him one last smile before waving goodbye to him. "Thank you again for your help!"

Joshua felt the words on the tip of hid tongue, die in his throat as he watched you run away from him like your life dependent on it, making him sigh.

He huffed, running a hand through his semi-wet locks before his phone rang.

"Hello?" He answered, sighing as he heard Seungcheol's voice over the phone. "Yeah." He said, his gaze still fixed on the spot where you once were. "I'm on my way back. I'll see you and the rest in thirty."

Seungcheol let out a hum of understanding before he hung up the phone, leaving Joshua to his own thoughts as he went on auto-pilot and picked up his sling bag as he felt frustration course through his veins.

So much for second chances.

THIRD TIMES THE CHARM

On the spring of Joshua's twenty second birthday, he finds himself back underneath the faithful cherry blossom tree. The only difference is that it is eleven at night. He had just finished a team dinner with the rest of the group, celebrating a big win that they just had with the release of one of their newest albums. All that hard work and tireless preparations had paid off and they were now celebrating the fruits of their labour.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were by Joshua's side when they had exited the restaurant but for some reason, Joshua felt a little bit restless, like something was tugging on his soul that he shouldn't go home just yet.

With that, Joshua bid the two older men goodbye and headed off to his safe space, a space that the members had coined as the soulmate spot after Joshua finally gained the courage to tell his members about his soulmate and the cherry blossom story that came with it.

Joshua leans against the tree that is still flourishing even though it was coming to the end of spring. The petals still had that sheen that told the story of the start of spring till nearly the end as they were going into fall, the week after next.

He sighs, feeling the restlessness start to seep away from his bones. Just being in this spot was comforting for him because he felt connected to you. After you had taken off that day four years ago, Joshua hadn't seen you since.

Not for the lack of trying as well.

Joshua had just gotten so wrapped up in the life of being an idol that he was traveling more often, spent a lot less time in Korea and he felt that each practice was more intense than the last.

He still tried to stick to his outstanding bi-weekly date that he had with the cherry blossom tree but with all the new promotions and practices that seemed to be popping up from left, right and center, he had definitely missed a few during the last four springs.

However, looking at how serene the park looked at night with the crackling streetlamps as well as the fairy lights that are no doubt a new addition, Joshua feels at peace at the fact that nothing else has changed about his favourite safe spot.

He had quite a few of them… one being a corner of the practice room where he always sat during the breaks with his earbuds in. Another being a corner in Jihoon's office that he uses whenever the world got too overwhelming (and that Jihoon let's him use by just pretending that he isn't there) and the last but definitely not the least, was the cherry blossom tree.

He closes his eyes, just taking in the ambience of the park and listening to the crickets chirping, the static flickering of the streetlamps and fairy lights and allowed himself to breathe.

He wasn't Joshua Hong, one of the two American members of Seventeen.

He was just, Joshua.

"Is this spot taken?" He hears someone softly ask from in-front of him. Joshua opens both his eyes to see a girl about his age, a hood obscuring most of her face as she leaned down slightly, no doubt to ask him the question.

Joshua panicked for a moment, wondering if the girl had noticed who he was but then remembered that he was wearing a baseball cap as well as a mask, concealing about sixty percent of his face.

He internally let out a breath of relief before shaking his head no as he gestures to the spot next to him. "You can sit if you like." Joshua states, not really sure of the words flowing out of his mouth at the moment.

On any other day, Joshua would've probably not offered the space next to him to a total stranger that he has never seen or met before. However, today had been a long day and his walls were all the way down after a long day of practice than the award show and then the team dinner.

If he wasn't feeling restless, he would've probably called it quits and been back at the dorm, in his comfy bed.

The stranger mutters out a small 'thank you' before plopping down next to him. The sound of the rustling plastic bag catches Joshua's attention, having not noticed the convenience store bag that the girl had in her right hand.

Joshua's eyes flit downwards to where his phone lied on his lap and did a quick click of the side button to see that it was 11:30pm. His eyebrows furrow as he looks back at the girl who takes out an aluminum wrapped roll of kimbap.

"Is that your dinner?" Joshua found himself asking, shocking himself and the stranger who gives Joshua a sideways glance before nodding her head. "Why are you eating so late?"

"You always ask this many questions to a stranger you don't know?" The girl replies after swallowing her first slice of the kimbap.

Joshua, a little taken aback by her question, lets out a low and tired chuckle as he shakes his head. "No." He answers honestly, "I was just wondering why a girl is wandering around at 11:30pm and eating a roll of kimbap underneath a cherry blossom tree with a stranger."

"Because this is my safe space." The girl admits nonchalantly, without a second thought as she eats another slice of her kimbap.

Joshua blinks a few times at the girl's answer. "Weird." He states. "This is my safe space too." He finds himself admitting, unsure why he is telling a random stranger. But it had been a long day and Joshua's guard is down.

At his words, the girl stops eating and turns her head towards him for a few seconds, analyzing him. "You always this trusting to strangers?"

Joshua scoffs, "You admitted that in a heartbeat as well, mind you."

The girl just shrugs and continues to munch on her kimbap as the wind breezes past them, making a few of the loose cherry blossom petals fall.

Joshua watches them slowly drift down, smiling a little to himself as it brings back memories of his first spring in Seoul.

"Did you know that there are over two hundred varieties of cherry blossom trees?" Joshua hears the girl mutter out making his eyebrows furrow, his brain synapses firing.

Has he heard this before?

"I did know that actually." Joshua admits, making his company let out a hum of acknowledgement. "Did you know that the cherry blossoms and their tea leaves are actually edible?"

He watches the girl nod, pulling down more of the aluminum foil to unwrap the last three slices of her kimbap. "They're used in like Japanese sweets, teas as well as desserts right?"

Joshua nods, closing his eyes. "My favourite is the sakura mochi."

There was silence for a few moments before the girl replied with a, "No way, that's mine as well."

Joshua hums. "You have good taste."

Joshua hears the girl beside him let out a laugh at his quip making his chest warm a little. The girls laugh reminded him of you in a way, the soft laugh that you had let slip past your lips four springs ago still etched in his mind.

"Did you also know that the the biggest cherry blossom capital in the world is actually in Macon, Georgia, which holds over three hundred thousand cherry trees?"

Joshua feels himself freeze at that statement. Now he had definitely heard that one before.

His eyes widen as he gets transported back to that faithful day under the rain where his soulmate had slipped through his fingers for the second time in his life.

You continue to yap on about fun facts that your mother had shared with you about cherry blossoms, unsure of why you were telling a random stranger this information, but it was a long day and this stranger felt… safe to you?

You couldn't explain why.

"Did you know that some varieties have more than five petals for their blossoms? Like the Kanzan can have up to twenty-eight petals per flower? That makes it look so much fuller with a pom-pom like appear—"

"Bunny?"

You pause your tangent upon hearing the childhood nickname that your mother still uses every now and then, feeling your blood run a little cold at the stranger saying it.

You whip your head towards the stranger who is now sitting fully up-right and facing you as your eyebrows furrow. "Why did you—"

The stranger doubles down and whispers out your name, making you freeze as you scoot back a little, fearful for your life now. The one time you choose to trust a stranger and it turns out that he might be a stalker?

How low is your social awareness that you didn't seem to realize that the man beside you might've been stalking you all this time? Were you about to die? How were you going to get out of this? What was the best exit—

Your spiral gets interrupted when the stranger removes his cap and mask, allowing you to see the bambi doe-eyes that you have been dreaming about for the last few springs. The warmth and comfort in them, still as persistent as you remember.

"Bambi?" You breathe out, the nickname that you gave him when you were six, rolling off your tongue easier than you thought it would. "Joshua, is that you?"

Joshua nods eagerly, seemingly frozen in place as he watches you take him in before you jump into him. He catches you easily, seemingly a little more prepared than the last time when he was eight years old as he buries his face into your hair, just like he did that day, fourteen years ago.

"I can't believe I found you again." He mutters out into your hair as he feels you let out a watery laugh into his sweater that he was wearing. He pulls away a little, noticing that your hair is a little ruffled from the hoodie being launched off after you had jumped into him. He feels you shiver a little and goes to pull the hoodie back up for you to protect your ears when he notices the bunny ears sewed onto the hood.

A wide grin appears on his lips as he internally shakes his head at the fact that he didn't notice them before, deeming it to the long day that he just had.

"I've only seen you on television." Is the first words to come out of your mouth after the whole affair, which makes Joshua giggle as he pulls away fully to look you in the eyes. "That's the first thing you say to me, your soulmate, after years of not seeing each other?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic outburst as you pull him back in for another hug, the necklace that you are wearing, the pendant hitting him in the chest, which makes a smile adorn his face at the memory of what the pendant is made out of.

The two of you stay like that for a few moments more before you pull away to get a good look at Joshua's face. You were telling the truth, you had only seen Joshua through YouTube videos and whenever the various Music Award Shows were on, always silently cheering him on.

You had recognized him after they had their first debut show on TV, the doe-eyes immediately speaking to you as he came onto stage. You had know that you were his soulmate, right after the mark had appeared on your arm ages ago.

Your parents also had a long talk with you about it but after your father's phone had gotten smashed during a really bad day of work, there was no way to contact him or his mother. So, you went the next ten years not knowing if Joshua had remembered you, the weirdly dressed girl with bunny ears and soft toy.

Until that april shower when you were sixteen, you didn't realize you were talking to him until you were twenty blocks away from the park, eager to get to your next tutoring teacher's class.

You had cursed yourself for being a little too oblivious but as you stared at the white mark on your wrist, you realized that the timing probably wasn't right just yet for the two of you and you just needed to wait for fate to push you both together once again.

That faithful day is today.

"No." You answer truthfully, shaking your head at Joshua's question. "I think our first order of business should be to get each other's numbers so that we don't have to wait for fate to bring us dumbasses back together for the fourth time."

Joshua lets out a laugh at your answer, nodding with a cheeky grin on his face. "They do say third time's the charm."

You roll your eyes at his cliche answer but deep down you silently agreed with it.

Maybe it truly is, third time's the charm.

THE GOING SEVENTEEN TWIST

"Ugh." You mutter out, messing with the bunny patterned mask on your face, getting a little frustrated with how hot it is underneath the mask. "I don't get why we need to keep wearing a mask if your company has booked out the entire park for your Going Seventeen episode."

Joshua lets out a chuckle at your frustrations as he rubs your forearm soothingly, a tactic that he picked up a few years ago when he realized that it was the fastest way to calm you down (other than food of course).

"Well," Joshua starts, adjusting his own mask and cap in the process. "We rented out the park but that doesn't mean the general public still won't recognize us because the area isn't covered."

You let out a huff, knowing that he is right.

"It also doesn't help that Hoshi yells like a maniac and gathers the attention of said general public." You mutter, making Joshua laugh at your whines.

He looks around before lowering his mask to give you a small kiss to the top of your head before pulling it back up, just as one of the managers calls for him.

He spares the manager a quick glance before his attention is back on you, to make sure that you are okay with him leaving.

"Go." You assure him, nudging him slightly in the direction where the manager is waiting for him. "I've been around these shoots long enough to know the procedure by now."

Joshua's eye lines crinkle, a sign that he is smiling as he nods.

You weren't wrong, you had been coming to the Going Seventeen shoots for almost the entirety of your relationship with Joshua. The two of you weren't really public but you two weren't private either.

Your relationship wasn't a secret and Joshua had brought you up a few times before, mentioning you here and there in some interviews that he has done with Vogue or Cosmopolitan.

You had also become a small little mention in the Going Seventeen videos where sometimes Joshua would let something small about you slip past his lips. It was a routine at this point and the fans had been using this to their advantage, creating many different videos such as; "A compilation of all the times Joshua has mentioned Bunny" or "Joshua being the biggest simp for his girlfriend/soulmate for 4 minutes and 48 seconds."

But, it was good.

The fans had accepted that the two of you are together and Joshua was more open with his soulmate mark and talking about you now to the point where he doesn't conceal the white cherry blossom mark on his wrist anymore.

Now he wears it with pride, just like the bracelet that ties the both of you together.

You fidget with your pendant, recalling all those memories with a smile. Thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together that day eight years ago.

"Right!" One of the directors call out, knocking you out of your thoughts as you move from yours and Joshua's cherry blossom tree, realizing that they are about to begin their filming.

Joshua appears beside you, moments later looking more dolled up and refreshed compared to half an hour ago making you grin as you notice his hair sticking up slightly.

Without a word, you step forward to him, his arms wrapping around your waist habitually as you fix your eyes on the cow-lick in his hair. You brush it down, not noticing the way that Joshua is watching you as you fixate on his hair, brushing it till it looks perfect for the shoot that they are doing today.

"What's the shoot for today?" You ask him, softly, fixing a few strands of stray hairs that the stylist didn't manage to get. Joshua let out a hum, his hands warm on your waist.

"We're filming something special." Joshua admits shyly. "That's why I asked you to get a little more dolled up than usual today."

He had told you that the night before. It was unusual for Joshua to be this quiet about the shoots that he and the rest of the members were meant to film. Joshua would at least tell you beforehand what the shoot was about and the premise of it but for this particular shoot, he had been quiet.

All the information you had was that you might have to appear once or twice as emotional support for your boyfriend. The rest of the members had also brought along their significant others or girlfriends as well and when you had asked them about what the shoot would be, they had side-eyed each other and shook their heads, seemingly not knowing what it was as well.

"You've been acting weird lately." You mutter out to your boyfriend, messing with one last stubborn strand of hair that was sticking upwards. You side-eyed your boyfriend, "You aren't doing a secret horror episode today are you? You can't do that in our safe space."

Joshua lets out a laugh at your imagination before shaking his head, a big toothy grin on his face. "I love your imagination sometimes, Bunny."

You raise an eyebrow at his words. "Yet," you start. "You did not deny it."

Joshua gives you a mischievous grin, that you have seen one too many times making you roll your eyes at how mysterious your boyfriend was being.

"I guess you just have to wait and see."

"Fine." You relent, finally get that strand of hair to get down. "Keep your secrets."

Joshua leans in closer to you, surprising you a little as you watch his eyes scan your face, from the top of your forehead, to the slope of your nose to your chewed lips that you had been gnawing on since you had arrived because you weren't sure what to expect today.

You feel your cheeks heat up from how intense his gaze is before he surprises you once more by leaning in and giving you a peck on the lips, a lovesick grin on his lips right after he does.

You blink at your boyfriend, unsure of how to react to the quick peck. The two of you had set boundaries beforehand about PDA and everything else that was related to the public.

Kissing or pecks were a gray zone in a sense where you could do it but only if the members, cameras as well as the rest of the world was not around.

However, Joshua broke that rule today by kissing you in the middle of the set where everyone can see.

"Did you just…" You trail off making Joshua nod, seemingly more relaxed than you are.

"Yeah."

"But—"

"I just wanted to." He nonchalantly admits, shrugging his shoulders as he does so. "You looked so cute focusing on me that I wanted to kiss you as soon as you were almost done fixing my hair."

"Your hair is done by the way." You admit, the words coming out of your mouth faster than you could have processed them, making Joshua bark out another laugh at how slow your brain was comprehending information.

"I love you." Joshua admits softly, after he was done laughing. Your heart warms at his words as you give a once over to the set before leaning in to give Joshua a peck.

"I love you more."

The producer of the episode immediately signals that it is time to start filming making you step away from your boyfriend's embrace as you give him a confident smile that tells him that he's got this.

Joshua gives you a smile before nodding and making his way over to the rest of his members.

You, on the other hand, walk towards the rest of the girlfriends who were engaging in some other small talk. They made room for you and were talking about the newest thrills that their boyfriend seem to have been into when a producer calls your name.

You perk up, slightly confused as to why you were being called out for until you realize that Joshua is standing in-front of your cherry blossom tree, with his hands behind his back.

"Before we begin today's filming." The producer starts, looking between you and Joshua. "Joshua would like to say a few words before we kick-off this weeks filming." He turns to Joshua with a big smile on his face before passing him the microphone.

Joshua clears his throat before speaking into the microphone.

"Bunny." He softly calls out making you peer out of the area you were sitting in. "Could you please come forward to where I am?"

You skeptically look at the love of your life but proceed to join Joshua at the front. As soon as you had moved there, you immediately ask a slew of rapid questions to your boyfriend to which he only replied with his shinning smile.

"Bunny." Joshua breathes out, turning to face you completely as he blocks out the rest of the world. "When I first saw you at the age of eight, I thought you were the biggest crybaby on the planet."

You feel your cheeks heat up as he says that, about to retort when he beats you to it.

"However, you were so unique and different that I was intrigued by you." Joshua softly admits, "I spent majority of my life searching for you ever since I had gotten this mark that ties us together and every time I tried, the universe always had something to say about it until that day where you had stumbled under the cherry blossom tree to eat kimbap at 11:30pm." That got a few giggles from the Going Seventeen team as Joshua continues. "I always knew that something in my life was missing. I've known that since I was eight years old and after I met you, I realize that you are the missing piece that I've been waiting for."

Your eyes widen as you realize why he is saying all these things.

He pulls out a velvet box from behind him and looks at you with the doe-eyes that you had grown to love more and more, everyday of your relationship.

"You complete me and my life, Bunny." Joshua softly admits, rolling the velvet box in his hand as he locks eyes with you, making you pulse quicken as you realize that he is about to do it. "So," Joshua starts, handing the microphone to you before he gets down on one knee, making you let out a gasp you didn't know you were holding. "Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

"Yes." You breath out into the microphone. "A thousand times yes."

A toothy grin appears on Joshua's face before he launches himself forward slightly and captures your lips with his, making your heart soar at the thought of calling Joshua your fiance.

The two of you pull away, hearing all the loud cheers and whistles from the Seventeen members, their significant others as well as the staff members on set which makes you giggle a little.

"So the whole shoot is a lie?" You softly ask making Joshua nod his head. "We just needed to get you down to this location so we disguised it as a shoot because if we had told you anything else, you would've figured out the surprise."

His words make you warm as you shake your head, a soft smile on your face.

"You're such a nerd."

"I am your nerd for the rest of your life." Joshua goofily admits making you roll your eyes, a small giggle escaping your lips as you tighten your grip around him, "Hello, fiance." You softly say, looking up at Joshua who peers downwards at you, the grin on his face never fading. "Hello to you too, fiancee."

You peer downwards at the box that Joshua is holding, making you clear your throat as you fixated him with a mischievous grin.

"So are you going to put the ring on me or what?"

THE FUTURE UNDER THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS

"And that is the story of how your mummy and daddy met and got married before we had you guys." Joshua finishes as his daughter bounces slightly on his lap. "The End!"

"Do you think I will ever get a soulmate, daddy?" His daughter asks, her bambi, doe eyes shining and making Joshua's heart melt.

"Of course, sweetheart." Joshua admits, giving his daughter a little once over as the wind blows past them, making the cherry blossoms fall of the tree. "If you are anything like your mother, you will definitely get one, baby."

"What lies are you feeding our daughter this time?"

Joshua looks up, spotting you waddle over to the picnic blanket and his heart soars even more. "No lies." He admits, the mischievous grin on his face never fading. "Just telling her how you were absolutely in-love with me when we first met."

You roll your eyes at your husbands words as he gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "That's such a lie." You breath out, looking straight at your husband. "We both know it was you who was in love with me the first time we both met."

Joshua barks out a laugh as your daughter stands up from his lap, in awe of the pretty cherry blossoms that are cascading down.

"Mummy! Daddy!" She exclaims. "Look!"

The two of you share a quick glance at each other and smile. "Aren't they pretty, baby?" You ask her making her nod, her doe eyes still shimmering as she tries to catch one of the blossoms.

"Did you know that there are two hundred different variants of cherry blossoms trees, baby?" Joshua asks your daughter making the little girl stop her jumping as her eyes grew as big as saucers.

"That's bigger than the numbers we're learning in class right now!"

You couldn't help but laugh at her answer, shaking your head as the fond memories begin to flood your mind.

"Is that where you got my name from, mummy?" You tilt your head to the side as you take a quick glance at Joshua.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"Well, my name is Cherry. Did you name me after the pretty trees?" Joshua grins at his daughters question and nods fondly.

"Yes." He admits. "We did because you're so precious to us and we can't wait to see you blossom and grow."

"Would I become as pretty as the pretty flowers?" Cherry asks making Joshua scoff as he grabs her and pulls her back into his lap.

"Cherry." Joshua coos, patting her head. "You're going to be prettier than any other flower that will ever grow, you know why?"

Cherry shook her head before Joshua locked eyes with you. "Because the reason of how your name came to be and the story behind it, is the best and prettiest thing that we could've ever asked for."

@livmarauder2026 Thank you guys so much for reading my spring collab fic! Be sure to check out all the other amazing works that this collab has to offer! New fics should be hitting tumblr very very soon... Like my work? Join my Permanent Taglist! All my fics are 18+, which means blogs without age or age indicator will not be tagged! If you like this, please consider reblogging or liking! It really makes my day! <3 Thank you for showing loverboy joshua so much love!

"Come on, one more," Taehyun encourages and you have to fight the urge to not snap at him. One thing you learned about yourself on your little fitness journey, you hate bench press. It's so stupid. It's dangerous, dumb, and you beg Taehyun to let you off the hook every time he says that's the next machine you're going on. You know it could easily be solved if you decided to start planning your training on your own, but you like it more when he's the one in charge.

Not only does he plan the machines around in a way you can be near each other all throughout the training, but he also actually understands fully what you're training on each thing. If you were to plan your own rotation, you would just be on the same five machines every day. Which, even you know wouldn't do you any good.

"I can't," you complain, a strained whine leaving your lips as you try to push the bar up once more. Your hands won't move though. You seriously can't. "Tae," you beg, completely out of power now.

When he hears the struggle in your voice, realizing you won't push it up again, he quickly steps forward and wraps his fingers around the middle, bringing it up with ease. You sigh in relief when he does, letting your arms drop to your sides. "Let's take a break," he suggest and you look up at him. You'd love to say it's easy to find his eyes when he is standing right behind your head, but thanks to the position, the only thing you find are his pants. You quickly avert your eyes, trying your hardest to pretend you didn't just lock eyes with his print.

Pushing yourself up, you sit on the bench while he unloads the weights. You feel like you're going to die. Blinking up, your brows furrow in confusion as he comes to stand in front of you, offering you his bottle. "Finish this, I have more left than you do in yours," he practically pushes the bottle into your hands, which you're glad for because you do need that water.

"Why do you like torturing me so much?" You ask as soon as you rest the bottle on the floor again. "Is this some sort of a kink? Finding pleasure in seeing me get crushed down by weights?"

He snickers at your question. "I'm not a sadist," he assures you with a shake of his head. "I seriously thought you could do one more."

"As you can see, I couldn't," you sigh.

"Do you want to move onto legs? I need to get two more sets in," he points towards the spot he's been occupying until he came to spot you, and you nod. "Just do whatever you're in the mood for. I'll join you in a bit."

You go refill both his and your water bottle before moving on. You settle on a leg press — your favorite machine unlike the one you just had to do. It's positioned in a way that allows you to watch Taehyun as you work out, admiring his drive for this. Even all these months later, you still admire how determined he is. He is incredible.

You keep your eyes on him while pushing the weights with your legs, watching as he grips the bar above him and pulls himself up. It doesn't look easy at all, and you're glad he didn't make you do that yet. You're sure you'd fail. The last time you attempted to do a pull up was probably in high school, and even then, it ended with utter embarrassement.

Taehyun only let's go off the bar once he loses his strength completely, finishing his set. He shakes his arms on his side before reaching for the bottle you filled, instinctively looking for you with his eyes. As soon as he finds you, he smiles, a soft curve of his lips that almost causes for you to fail your set. Steadying yourself quickly, you pull at the lever on your side to catch the weights, relaxing for a second.

He takes a long sip and you let your eyes wander for a second — simply admiring what work outs do to his body, you convince yourself. His Adam's apple is exposed, sweat running down and making it glisten. You can see it even from across the room. His black shirt clings to his body, hugging every one of the muscles he built with such precision. You've seen him with it off a few times before, and you can confidently say his shirt doesn't do him justice.

His abs are perfectly toned, a sight you could look at for hours. Then, of course, there are those legs. Those fucking legs. Taehyun has strong thighs that others easily overlook. The amount of times you found yourself staring at them while he'd work out in the past months is not something you could recall. The memory of him helping you at the bench press rushing to your mind, the sight of his legs practically right on top of your head. God.

You need to get a grip. You can't be thinking about the print you saw when you were trying to look at him, not when you're in a room filled with people.

Your body doesn't listen to your head, though, and your eyes drop down on their own again, locking with the same print you are not supposed to be thinking about. Fuck me. The words are printed all over your mind in bold letters, making you feel like you're going crazy. Who the fuck stares at their friend like this and thinks about fucking them? All because of the fucking sweatpants he decided to wear.

So when it comes to it, it's really his fault.

You are not the one with your muscles out.

Fucking hell, are you ovulating?

You force your gaze up again just to find Taehyun already looking at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Your lips part but no words come out. You're not even sure what you wanted to say. It's not like he'd be able to hear you if you did speak either way.

You watch as he pulls his weight up again, his eyes still on you, before looking away, trying your best to focus on your set. You must be going crazy. And ovulating. Because since when is Kang Taehyun hot? Kang Taehyun, the same guy who you met in your high school math class and stayed by his side since then. Kang Taehyun, who saw all kind of versions of you throughout the years and supported you when you needed it. Kang Taehyun, who you always thought was just a great friend to you.

Looking at him now, though, all sweaty with his boba eyes watching you and his strength out in the open for you to see, the last thing you feel is that he is just a friend.

The rest of your set goes by in a blur. You can't focus. You can't do anything but thing about the man on the other side of the gym. You're a mess. Both in your head and between your legs.

You need to get home.

"How much longer do you need here?" You blurt out as soon as he joins your side again, not giving him a chance to speak.

He blinks confusedly at first, looking around the gym. "Uhm, if you want to go already we can I was just going to do—"

"Please," you nod, desperate to get out of here.

"Okay," he doesn't question you further. "Let me just grab all my things and we'll meet in the car?" You don't answer him, hurrying out and leaving him there, his confusion only growing.

If he's honest, he's been confused for a while. Ever since you parted ways and he stayed behind to finish his pull ups, he's noticed the change in your behavior. It wasn't anything huge so he didn't think much of it, holding your gaze just like he normally would. But then your eyes started flickering all around him, almost in distress. To say he's been wondering what you're thinking about is an understatement.

He keeps about it as he goes into the changing rooms. As he changes back to his jeans and a new shirt, as he walks out of the gym and heads towards his car, as he opens the door for you like he always does and sees your flushed cheeks, and as he drives towards your apartment. Especially as he drives towards your apartment. He can't get rid of his curiosity, trying to figure out just what exactly you were thinking about while watching him like that.

Like what? He honestly isn't sure.

As wise he knows he is, his skills apparently don't include reading people's expressions well.

"Wait," he stops you before you can run out of his car when he parks in front of your apartment. "Are you okay? What's—"

"I'm good, Taehyun," you brush him away quickly. "I just— I really need to go," you excuse yourself, but just as you grab the handle to open the door, he catches your other wrist in his hand, not letting you go. Your name slips from his lips, a confused plea to tell him what's going on with you. But you can't. You need to take care of the itch he managed to cause in the gym. You're desperate to take care of it and find a release to this sudden attraction you feel towards him. He's doing things to you you don't want him to know about.

"I can clearly see you don't feel okay. Can you at least look at me? Did I do something to upset you?" The desperation in his voice makes just only that much crazier. The need you hear in his voice to understand you better sending a shiver down your spine, one that forces your thighs together. You really need to get away from here.

"It's not that," you shake your head quickly, your lips forming a straight line as you try your best to keep any signs of what you're feeling hidden.

"Then what—" he pauses, losing his breath for a second. "Oh." Your brows furrow confusedly at the sudden change, following his eyes to see what he's seeing.

Your eyes widen instantly when you realize you've been rubbing your thighs together. You quickly push them apart, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you curse on repeat, brushing his hand off yours and finally opening the car door to escape.

"Wait!" He calls after you, only met with a harsh slam of the passenger door. He's quick, getting out of the car as well and meeting you at the back as you get your gym back from his truck. The sound of your name makes you freeze but you brush it off as fast as you can, heading towards your apartment. He closes the truck door and locks his car, rushing after you without a single care that what you are so desperately trying to get away from is him. "Can we talk?"

"Not a great time for a talk, Tae!" You yell back at him, searching for your keys.

"I think it's the perfect time!" He claims, appearing at your side before you can unlock the door. "Just listen to me. Let me help."

"You don't want to help with this," you shake your head, barely listening to what he's saying.

"I do!"

You stop in your track, blinking at him confusedly. "You do?" You question, taken aback.

"If you were just listening to me for a second, you would have known."

"But you— we— this—"

"Do you want me to take care of that itch or not?"

You don't hesitate any longer, breathing out a desperate, "Yes."

You're not sure how you expected a kiss with Taehyun to look like, but it wasn't as gentle as this. You dropped your gym back in the hallway as soon as you closed the door behind yourself, and he didn't waste any second, latching his lips onto yours. And while the hands gripping your flesh were anything but, his kiss has been soft and tender.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he's been wanting to do this for a while.

With your back pressed against the front door, you moan into his lips as he pushes a knee between your parted legs. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you kiss him with more urgency.

"How long?" He asks before moving his lips lower, planting wet kisses to your throat. "You're like this because of me, right?"

"Yes," a whine escapes through your lips, your ears red from the embarrassement.

"How long?" He repeats his question, helping you rock forward on his thigh. His fingers dig into the flesh of your waist as he does and you crazy. You need to get these clothes off.

"I don't… know," you cry into his ear, trying to move your hips faster. "It just happened." He hums into your skin. "Taehyun, please."

You feel him smirk against you as your plea reaches him. His hands move under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra. You suddenly regret wearing a sports bra, wishing you'd have a more flattering one instead. "Will you get this off for me?" You nod, and as soon as he has his confirmation, he lowers himself down to his knees.

Your head spins at the sight, finding him more attractive than ever as he kneels in front of you. He toys with the hem of your pants, waiting for you to take off your shirt before pulling them down. You get rid of your sports bra just as quick, locking your eyes on him again.

Unlike you, he takes his time getting you rid of the last piece of clothing, his eyes glued to your skin as he hooks his fingers into your panties. The wet fabric is clinging to your pussy and Taehyun groans at the sight. This has got to be the best day of his life.

He drops the clothing to your ankles and you step out of it with ease, kicking it aside. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling at the brown locks lightly. He looks up, his mouth opened and just inches from where you need him the most. He grips your waist again, his fingers digging into your skin. "You're beautiful," he whispers, pressing his lips to your thigh. "Do you know that?"

You shiver under him, the image of him looking at you from between your legs now planted in your head. You watch him as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you in place with his hands. You're obsessed with the way he murmurs your name against your skin, grabbing any flesh he can get his hands on as his mouth meets your clit.

"Fuck," you breathe out instantly. It feels like forever since someone ate you out, your body recognizing the pleasure immediately and inching forward. Taehyun's tongue flickers over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping lower. His tongue slides between your folds, collecting all your wetness. The grip you have on his hair tightens, causing a low whine to leave his lips. You feels the sound in every part of your body.

You want his cock inside.

Crying out, barely understandable blabs leave your lips as you beg for more. You're not sure if he can't hear you or just doesn't care, but he simply continues with what he's been doing until now, taking care of your clit with his tongue.

It's only once he hears you moan his name that he decides to be nice to you, letting his fingers join. You almost thank him as he dips one of his fingers inside you, adding to the pleasure. The second finger comes right after, moving in a slow rhythm.

Adding a third fingers almost makes you come. Despite the teasing slow moves, he is nothing if not skilled. With his fingers pumping in and out of you and his tongue working you at the same time, you could probably come at his demand.

He hums against your skin, noticing you get closer. "Will you come for me, pretty?"

You whine at his words, nodding instantly. You feel hot all over, burning with need. Keeping him right where you want him, your legs shake around his head. It comes so fast, your breath shakes as you finish on his lips.

He pulls away only after licking you clean, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, wanting you to see him suck the last bits of you off. You moan at the sight, dropping your leg back down to the floor, trying your best for them not to give out. It feels like another work out.

"Come here, I need you to know how perfect you taste," he says as he pushes himself up again, chasing after your lips. Wrapping your hands around him as he kisses you, you use it to help you stand straight, needing to hold onto him. As if he could read your mind completely, he pulls away just enough to speak. "Do you have enough energy to stay here?"

You shake your head quickly, not seeing a reason to hide it from him. He nods back, not wasting any more time and picking you up with ease. You hook your legs around his waist while he grips your ass, getting more and more obsessed with touching your naked skin. "Bedroom?" He questions. "Please."

He sounds just as desperate as you are. God. You need to feel him inside. Nodding, you point him towards your bedroom despite knowing he is well aware of your apartment layout. It's not the first time he is over, but it certainly is the first time he's made you come at the door. Hopefully, it's not the last one, though.

Before you can even register being put down, Taehyun is already undressing, enjoying the way your eyes trail down his body. If you thought he was hot before, you are completely gone now. As soon as his shirt is off and you get a look at his build torso, you get wet all over again.

"Condoms?" He asks, his eyes locked on yours as he undoes his belt. Jesus. Can't he think about you a bit more? How are you supposed to not bounce on him instantly — even without getting that condom first — when he looks like this?

"In the drawer," you nod your head towards your bedside table and he nods, dropping his belt on the ground and pulling down his zipper as he walks around the bed to get it. You make yourself more comfortable as you watch him get rid of the last bits of clothing as well, climbing onto the bed to join you.

Your eyes fall to his cock even before he starts rolling the condom over his length, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sight. You don't think you could even explain how pretty his dick is.

"Tae, please," you look up at him, batting your eyelashes. A barely audible groan leaves his lips as he closes the space between you and presses his lips to yours, his cock rubbing against your clit. Your hands wander across his naked skin, feeling the hard build muscles you're starting to appreciate a lot more than before.

Moaning into each other's mouths, his tip stretches your walls, taking his time with each inch. For a moment, you forget completely that he's one of your friends, everything you feel too much to be considered that. From the pleasure to the pound of your heart as he whispers sweet praises into your ear.

You rock your hips against his, meeting his rhythm. There's a loud yell in your head, begging for more despite his cock already filling you so much. "Turn around," you whine and Taehyun listens, flipping the both of you so he's not laying on his back with ease. As you sit on top now, you feel him even deeper, your hand resting against his chest for support.

His eyes stay locked on you, flickering between your face, bouncing tits, and the spot where his cock disappears into your body. He can't get enough. Thrusting his hips into you harder, the sounds you make get louder. It's a song to his ears.

Bringing his hands up, he squeezes your boobs, rolling your nipples between two of his fingers. You bite on your bottom lip to prevent the loud sounds from escaping, but it doesn't work as well as you'd like, the pleasure he brings you stronger than your want to stay quiet.

"I'm gonna come," you cry, rubbing your clit to help yourself get over the edge.

"Fuck," he groans. "You're taking me so well, I'm going to come too."

Still playing with your breasts, he takes you to another orgasm, moaning with you as you drop your head to his shoulders and sink your teeth into his skin, needing to focus on something other than the intense orgasm crashing down your body. As soon as you do, he paints the condom white as well. The sound he makes as he comes must be the prettiest one you've heard in a while.

Giving you a few more sloppy thrusts to help you both ride it out, he tries to help you off him only for you to sit right back down on his cock again. "What are—"

"Please," you cry. "Just one more." Raising your head to look at him, you watch as his eyes flicker with want. His cock is as hard as if he didn't just come.

"You're going to be the death of me," he moans, claiming your lips in his. "Let me get the whole pack you have, baby, I think we'll need them."

Tᴀɢɢɪᴇs!: @yvampyr , @filmsbyun , @izzyy-stuff , @gyuzies , @tyunningism @buttersoob @arianacraze @soobvns @babywabysworld @elizaldedulce @gfyouth @frying0fish @itisntherguys @mxxnlightxyamii @ningningsplushie

Nᴀɴɪ's Nᴏᴛᴇ!: i wasn't going to make them end together but love prevails ig? or maybe should i make part 3 breaking them up?? hahah im just joking

Tᴀɢɢɪᴇs!: @yvampyr , @filmsbyun , @izzyy-stuff , @gyuzies , @tyunningism @buttersoob @arianacraze

Nᴀɴɪ's Nᴏᴛᴇ!: so do we want them together or not? comment what team you're on! (we're going to ignore that i already have all the texts and it's very much decided how this is going to go lol)

London, 1920. 

“Are you seriously considering this?”

She stares at her father, sitting across from her, behind the comically large mahogany desk, glaring at her like her mere existence had proven to be some sort of annoyance to him, and repeats, “are you making a joke at my expense, father?”

He stares at her for another minute, then opens his mouth. “That is my question to you. Are you making a joke out of this family?”

“This family?” she scoffs, “I was under the impression that we barely had a family to speak of.”

“You shall not speak with me so impertinently!” he yells, standing up, and she matches his glare, out of all her siblings, she has always been the only one who could stare him directly in the eye, “getting arrested again? After all that the family had to do the previous time you tried this—fancy—out in public? You continue to make a fool out of us, Y/N, and I shall not tolerate it!”

She stands up, drawing herself to her full height, “You don’t have to tolerate it!” she exclaims, “there is no space in this household for anyone to express their opinions freely, and I refuse to be a part of this nonsense!”

“You shall cease this at once!” he shouts, holding up a paper from his desk, “an essay, titled, Grassroots Campaigning for Effective Marxist Reforms? Another arrest last night, for rioting in front of MP Simpson’s London family home. Is this what is expected of you?”

She raises an eyebrow. There’s a shuffling outside the doors. No doubt the servants are all listening. She doesn’t blame them. She would eavesdrop too, if she had the chance. “And what, pray tell, is expected of me?”

“You are the youngest daughter of the goddamn banking system of Great Britain!” her father erupts, slamming a hand on the desk. If she had been younger, it would have made her flinch. Not now. “What is expected of you, is to lead an existence where the Chairman of Lloyds Bank does not have to travel to a dingy jail to bail his daughter out!”

“Well, maybe you should not have bailed me out!” she shouts back, “you bailed me out because you hated the idea of having a daughter stand trial pathetic and beneath you! Not because you cared!”

Her father seemingly gives up, breathing heavily before walking away to stand in front of the large bay windows. It’s a wonderful morning, but the balmy spring weather feels like a personal joke made at her expense, almost as if nature herself were laughing at her situation. He sighs heavily, his hands folded behind his back, “We sent you to a bloody university to study law, only for your head to be filled with nonsense like this,” he mutters, shaking his head, “if only your mother were alive now. She would hate to see you turn out like this.”

“You did not send me to university,” she says loudly, walking away from her father, “I secured my position at University because I wished to do so. My mother and my grandmother had left me with large inheritances, precisely for this situation. I wanted to go to university to widen my mind and to receive a degree. And you were the one who convinced Gray’s Inn to not call me until last year! I would have become a barrister far before Helena, and you know it!”

“You have turned into a Bolshevik,” her father turns to glare at her, “and there’s no place for a Bolshevik under my roof.”

She raises an eyebrow in return, “but I suppose there’s enough room in the mansion for one of your bastards to stay here with us?”

“Watch your tone!”

“I refuse to be governed by a man with no self-restraint!” she yells, loud enough for the butler, Chelton to poke his head inside, look at the scene, and then leave, “you had no sense of your duty. You fathered a child out of wedlock. You are the man who preaches about the importance of family while forcing us to keep at this egregious farce! Your transgressions killed our mother!”

“Keep Thomas and your mother out of this!”

“You brought him into this house! He serves as your secretary! Why do you think I brought him up? You bring him into our life, and you act as if it’s our fault for not going along with this grotesque charade!”

She takes a deep breath, carefully watching the man in front of her. When she had been young, he had looked as though he were tall enough, large enough, to shoulder against all the storms of the world. He had seemed so big then, so invincible. 

Unfortunately for the both of them, he had remained the same, while she had grown taller. And now, all he was to her, was a man smaller than she had ever imagined him to be, someone who ran and hid instead of facing the world for what it was. She doesn’t think she can stay for a minute longer with him. 

Taking a deep breath, she opens her mouth. “You think I don’t know why Brother was so insistent on going to the War? He came back home crippled and still insisted on living far away from London, just so he could get away from you.”

“How dare—”

“And Margaret,” she stands, facing him, with a smile on her face, “she ran the moment you brought in that bastard. Married the first titled man who she half-fancied. You think I didn’t know? She told me. She was only nineteen when she got married, nineteen. I was sixteen, and it has been fourteen years of her being married. Has she ever visited her family home, even once? No. You still think you had any control over who she married? The Earl of Derby was planning to propose to her since they were schoolchildren, father. I used to give them their letters while you were busy living a charmed life with whichever woman caught that your fancy. Tell me, do you still think you orchestrated the whole thing?”

“You will not turn my mind against your only sister,” he replies, voice ice-cold, “you’ve been letting a lot of those newfangled ideas get to your head.”

She stares at him a long time, then smiles again, “the Belle Époque is a thing of the past, father. The Edwardian Era is long over. And Jonathan, Margaret, and I, no longer wish to be governed by you.”

This brings out a smile. Not a genuine one, no, never a genuine one, the sort of predatory smile one would possibly get after seeing that their opponent had worked themselves into a corner. Her father continues to smile at her, “never being governed by me, you say? You’re thirty years old, y/n. And what work will people give to a woman who’s been arrested twice for rioting? As a suffragette, and as a—Marxist?” He says ‘Marxist’ like the word as personally insulted him, and she recoils. Takes a step back until nothing remains between her and the door, and she looks at her father again, this time realising the horror of what she had said. 

“You do not wish to be governed by me,” he says, “and yet you are happy enough to live under my roof, eat on my dime, and spend my money, as long as it suits your ideas? You really think I’m going to let this happen? I’m going to disown you. You will have no place in my will.”

She raises her eyebrows. “The will? I have never held foolish notions of being considered by you,” this is fine. I can handle this much. “Brother Jonathan will be taking over the estate after you,” she says, “and I have my own independent wealth. My mother and your parents saw to that. They knew you would hate the notion of leaving me any money after you die.”

“Your mother’s wealth and my parents’ legacy does not go to you unless you get married,” he sneers, holding up another piece of paper, “you will be going to your cousin Seungcheol in New York.”

“So now you wish me to slum it with the Americans? If I recall correctly, you hate Seungcheol and his family. In fact, you’ve hated that part of my mother’s family so much, you refused to host them at our house when they visited before the war. Mother and Grandmother had to beg you to reconsider, so that you would not be seen as an absolute ass.” 

Her father sighs, pinching his brows, “it does not matter. I have written to him already, and Seungcheol seems interested in hosting you for the foreseeable future.”

“And that is to be my fate?” she says quietly, far too quiet for the anger that courses through her veins at the moment, “exiled to New York? Not even Paris, where I might have some school friends of mine on the Continent, but across the Atlantic to New York?”

“It’s what you deserve,” her father bites out, “you’ve turned into a Bolshevik, and you’ve begun consorting with the lowest of low classes. You will go to New York, and you will make an advantageous match. I will not have anything otherwise.”

“You’re a monster,” she breathes, before sweeping out of the room. Her shoes make no noise against the carpet, which means that the slamming of the door behind her echoes throughout the house. Chelton, the butler, is waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and gives her a sympathetic look as she comes to a halt beside him. 

“Well, miss,” he says, a genial smile on his face, “there’s no way you or I could go against the word of the master.”

“I’ve already cemented myself as the black sheep of this family,” she snorts, "better to distance yourself from me as fast as possible. As quickly as possible.”

“Miss,” Chelton replies, a genial smile on his face, “it is not my place to offer an opinion about the family, but I do think you and your siblings are one of the few good things left of this family.”

She laughs, offering her hand out for a handshake, “I’ll miss you when I’m in New York, Chelton.”

He shakes his head, “I shall hope to see you come back soon. May you realise all your dreams in the United States.”

She doesn’t say anything. Chelton has been a permanent fixture of their household for as long as she could remember. Her earliest memories were those of her siblings playing around the house, dragging their old butler in their childish games. Chelton teaching them their letters. Chelton comforting them when their mother became more and more distant as time passed. When their old housekeeper left, he was the one who took up the mantle of housekeeper as well as butler, raising them all. He’s been far better as a father to her and her siblings than her real father could ever have been. 

“Mind if I give you a hug, Chelton?” she asks, holding out her hand. When he nods his assent, she crosses over the single pace, wrapping him in a tight hug, “I’m going to miss this house. And everyone here. And London.”

“You don’t mean that, miss,” he laughs, patting her back, “you’re going to be a formidable presence in New York. We shall await your return.”

With that final word, he’s gone. She walks out of the foyer, and straight into the kitchen, where Mrs Wilson and the rest of the help are busy with luncheon. When she enters the kitchen, there’s a flurry of activity, and Mrs Wilson wraps her in a tight hug before she can even open her mouth to say something, “we are all going to miss you terribly, little lady,” Mrs Wilson says, wiping her tears. She doesn’t say anything. Mrs Wilson has continued to call her ‘little lady’ for all her life, despite all her protestations. She had hated it before, but now, she thinks she’s going to miss this term of endearment. 

“They’re exiling me,” she smiles, “where’s Lucy?”

“That’s an awful thing they’re doing to you, little lady,” Christy, the scullery maid pipes up, “everyone knows that you’ve always been one of the nicest people here. And the master sending you off like that—no, it don’t sit right with us at all.”

“Don’t speak about my father like that, Christy,” she shakes her head, “who knows, he might be listening.”

“Who cares?” Mrs Wilson snaps, “he’s not raised our wages since the war began. You were the one who raised our wages, started giving us time off. The master didn’t do nothing for us.”

“The master was angry with me for doing my basic duty,” she laughs, “make sure you take care of yourselves while I’m gone, yes? Don’t let anyone push you around. And if Mr Thomas—”

“Mr Thomas can try us here,” Mrs Wilson says, face dark, “the master killed the mistress because of him. We know what happened.”

The door opens, and a small girl rushes out, crying. “Miss!” Lucy, her ladies’ maid hugs her, sobbing into her shoulder, “Miss y/n, why did Chelton tell me you’re being sent away?”

“I’m being sent to my cousin’s in New York,” she smiles, “don’t worry, I’m going to write you a glowing letter of recommendation. And besides, my sister wrote to me last month, asking me about a new maid.”

“That’s not important, miss y/n,” Lucy sobs, “why is the master sending you away?”

She sighs, “I got arrested last night for rioting, you know. It’s not the ideal thing for a woman of proper breeding stock to do, so my father is sending me away.”

“To New York?” Lucy screws up her face, “to your cousins, miss?”

“To my cousin’s place,” she nods, turning to Chelton, “it takes about a week to get there by ship, which means I have to prepare for a week of being thrown about in all directions, subject to the whims of the sea.”

“You could take a zeppelin, ma’am.”

“And risk being burnt to death in mid-air?” she laughs, “no, I shall take my chances with the ship. Although, there is the matter of the—” taking a furtive look around the room, with sniffling and enraged staff members alike, she grabs onto Chelton’s sleeve, “I’ll need to speak with you, Chelton.”

“In here, miss?”

“No, not now,” she shakes her head, “in my room. There are some things to pay attention to.”

“Very well.” The old butler’s face crinkles into a soft smile, and he turns to the rest of the staff, “Miss y/n shall be retiring to her room.”

“Shall I accompany you, miss y/n?” Lucy pipes up, but she shakes her head. 

“No need, Lucy. Just bring me a cup of coffee an hour later.” she smiles, walking out of the kitchen, the butler in tow. 

Her room is an eccentric one. Filled with books and odd devices she had picked up from the markets, her grandmother had once called it ‘a scene of a truly eclectic mind’. She sits on a chaise longue, nestled in between a towering stack of German philosophy from the nineteenth century and books of British Law, and picks up a book by Rosa Luxemburg. Chelton peers at her from the doorway, still standing. She wants to tell him to have a seat, but the butler will refuse, as usual. He’s always been like that.

“They don’t sell alcohol in the Americas,” she says without preamble, “and frankly speaking, I doubt that the tobacco in New York will be on par with the standard of tobacco we have here, in London.”

Chelton smiles at her, “is that your primary concern, ma’am?”

“There’s also the matter of my books being subject to my father’s whims,” she says, morose, “I fear he might just throw them all away, or give them to people who hardly even read books. Can you imagine that, Chelton! People who hate reading!”

“I can imagine it would be tedious to hold a conversation with them, ma’am.”

“It is absolute torture. Once I mentioned Leibniz to a man fresh out of Oxford and he stared blankly at me, clearly unfamiliar with Leibniz. Leibniz! It’s as if one were educated in British History and remained unfamiliar with the name of the father of Queen Elizabeth.” she huffs, “but I can always send for my books as soon as I arrive, and I don’t think I own many dresses. Books shall replace them, all right?”

“As you wish, ma’am,” Chelton says, impassive as usual, but his eyes have a gentle smile in them, so she carries on. 

“How does one go about securing a drink in New York, Chelton? While it is of no particular concern to me, I would like to think myself partial to an occasional drink, paired with my after-dinner cigarette.”

“You could obtain a prescription, ma’am,” he says, after thinking for a while, “the papers say it is allowed to have alcohol, provided one had a doctor’s prescription for their consumption of it.”

“Aha!” she claps her hands, “Do you think Doctor Thompson would be so kind as to write me a prescription for, um—whiskey?”

Chelton blinks for a while, and then opens his mouth, utterly unflappable, “I shall ask Doctor Thompson to come to the house to check on your health, ma’am.”

—

Dear brother, 

I hope you are doing your best at Cambridge. Maybe it is for the best. Know that this letter does not come as a surprise. Father is sending me away to Cousin Cheol’s in New York, and I fear this shall be my last letter before I’m on a ship crossing the Atlantic. 

The worst part about this exile is that I am to be sent away to a country where no one can enjoy an after-dinner tipple without being subject to a hundred and one bureaucratic nonsenses, which means I have had to resort to asking Doctor Thompson for a counterfeit prescription in order to be able to secure my choice of alcohol while I’m in New York. I'm sure it shall be great fun. I know you are laughing while you read this, so I shall give you a bit of hard news: I am sending you half my books in boxes, while the other half shall make the journey across the Atlantic with me. I hope you search for the meaning of life in Nietzsche’s meanderings about a dead God, or construct better arguments via the help of Hegel’s dialectical method. I shall be looking forward to reading your arguments via letter afterwards. 

Now to the big question no doubt plaguing you: Why did he send me away? The answer: I got arrested again last week. For rioting. 

I know you’re frowning and rolling your eyes right now, so I shall spare you the embarrassment, and tell you that I regret nothing. I didn’t regret being arrested before the war, and I don’t regret being arrested now. I have done nothing to bring shame to my family. Not in the way our father has done. He sends me away, and yet he keeps Thomas by his side. Every time I look at that familiar face, I keep thinking back to our poor mother, who wasted away waiting desperately for our father to not embarrass her. I shall not do anything to bring shame to us. You, Margaret, and me. Maybe this time next year, I shall be back in London, although that seems highly unlikely. Perhaps a change of scenery is what’s best for me?

Love, 

Your youngest sister. 

—

Dear sister, 

Or should I address you as the Countess of Derby now? I laugh when I think about it; my dear sister, avid lover of novels, spirited organiser of the war effort, now the great Countess of Derby. I hope my brother-in-law is treating you well. I shall never call him the Earl, by the way. He’s Brother John to me. 

Father is sending me to New York, to live with Cousin Cheol. His reasoning for this exile is my existence, that I am an embarrassment to the family. He has taken particular offence with my political ideologies, and refuses to entertain the notion of hosting a daughter who does not abide by the family rules. 

Family rules. He speaks of family rules and honour in a manner that truly sickens and disgusts me. He keeps Thomas around, and sends me off across the Atlantic to make penance. Laughable, truly. 

You must be wondering why I haven’t asked you or Brother John for help, and to this I say; I don’t want to leave my house. I’ve grown up in that house, I have more rights over it than a man who refused to acknowledge the existence of his family for the entire duration of his marriage. I refused to leave the house when I should have, and perhaps this is the price I have to pay for it. I do not mind. I’ve made my peace with it. Perhaps I am far more worried about the state of my books (half of them are with our Brother at his house in Cambridge, and the rest of which I shall take on my transatlantic journey), as well as the procurement of alcohol in New York, which is very difficult, from what I can gather. Doctor Thompson has been incredibly kind by providing me with an entirely counterfeit prescription for “medicinal whiskey” two nights ago. I laughed myself sick while reading it before going to bed last night, and had to explain to a poor harangued Lucy what exactly it meant for me to have a prescription for “a medicinal dose of whiskey, with dinner, not less than thirty millilitres". She did not get the whole cosmic joke of it, unfortunately. Not very keen on humour, that one. 

Speaking of Lucy, she will be in need of a job once I leave for New York. I’m going to send her with a letter of recommendation to Derby, and I hope you shall keep her in your employ as a favour to your restless, reckless little sister (unless you want me to reveal your secret to Brother John). Brother is in Cambridgeshire, and you are in Derby, and my heart aches to leave my country and my family behind. I hope you shall find it in your heart to forgive me. 

With all my love, 

Your sister. 

—

[telegram received at ___]

Personal Attention, y/n. 

NYC lucky. Argemone 2000 p. love. S

[New York City is lucky to have you. Sending you a cheque of two thousand pounds. Love, S.]

—

[telegram received at ___]

Personal Attention, y/n

Qualify last week, croceus xmas n.y. Argemone 3000p. Love. m

[received your letter last week. Hope to see you at christmas next year. Sending you a cheque of three thousand pounds. Love, M.]

—

[telegram received at __]

Personal attention, Choi Seungcheol. 

arriving at ___. Receive. y/n. 

Regards, Choi Andrew. 

[pick me up from the dockyard, you idiot.]

—

Everyone cries on the morning of my departure. Lucy and Mrs Wilson shed copious tears as I wave goodbye, and Chelton tucks in a handkerchief into my coat pocket, smiling as I shake his hands goodbye. 

“I’ll come back next year, everyone,” I wave my hand, as the suitcases are placed into the boot of the car, “this exile means nothing to me.”

“The young master and the lady would be so sad to miss you,” Christy wipes at her eyes, “you should have gotten enough time to say your proper goodbyes. 

“I’ve sent them all letters,” I smile, kissing her cheek, “they’re going to write to me as much as possible. And Lucy is going to go to my sister’s house.”

At this, Lucy just sobs louder. Chelton kisses my cheek goodbye, “make sure you take care of yourself on the journey, miss,” he smiles, “your mother would have loved to see you grow up so well.”

“My mother would have worried her head silly about me,” I laugh, getting into the car. The hired driver frowns, confused at this tableau. I don’t say anything. By the time my father even registers my absence, I shall be on a steamer to New York City. 

“Cousin Cheol,” I mutter, as the car rattles off down the London streets, “hope to see you soon.”

—

“Where’s the fucking idiot who signed off on this?” the voice of his captain bellows throughout the office, and Jihoon sighs. At least this time it’s not him who’s getting chewed out. He’s got his head in a patrol report, signing off on whichever poor bastard thought it would be a good idea to go out for a joyride in a stolen vehicle. Without the numbers filed off. Jihoon sighs. Between the rise of bootlegged alcohol and the crackdown on workers unions, the police department had been chasing bullshit over the past few years. I’m tired of this. 

He walks past the captain’s desk, where the man is interrogating someone, presumably someone from a workers union in one of the few factories in their jurisdiction. Jihoon dutifully avoids looking at everyone while he goes to submit his report at his lieutenant’s desk. Would the man recognise me? Perhaps not. I’ve surely covered my tracks very well. He shakes his head, standing up a bit taller. He’s put in a lot of work for this job. He’s got his tracks covered. And no member of any workers union in the entire United States would say anything about him. 

As expected, the man being ignored turns his head away from his, looking steadily away. The captain calls him to his desk, and Jihoon just nods mutely, walking up to him. The man looks at him with those beady eyes of his, and barks, “did you get this man off the street, Lee?”

Jihoon shakes his head, “No, sir. I did not. Someone else must have picked him up.”

The captain sighs, leaning back in his chair, “some idiot brought him off the street, on account of picketing. And now we have to book him on some charge, but the man who’s picked him up is nowhere to be seen.”

Jihoon pauses to think for a while, then looks back at the Captain, “Sir, we need your attention on those rumored speakeasies underground in Madison Avenue.”

This perks the man’s ears right up, “a prohibition violation, you say?”

“Yes, sir.” Jihoon nods, face impassive, “we need your attention on that. Immediately.”

The captain stands up immediately, face red with anticipation, “very well, Lee. You write this bastard up on something. After the Palmer business, every police department is gunning to get some reds in their jails.”

Jihoon doesn’t respond. He just nods, standing still as the captain walks past him, calling for some backup to investigate the three speakeasies on fifth. After a while, he looks at the man. Fuck. he recognises me. 

“You’re free to go,” Jihoon says, holding up his hand as the man opens his mouth to say something, “no, don’t say anything. Just don’t tell anyone about me.”

He leads the man out of the station, “you’re free to go.”

The man looks at him, “but comrade—”

“Shut up!” he hisses, “get the fuck out of here right now.”

The man leaves, and Jihoon walks back to his desk. While walking back, he catches the eye of Yoon Jeonghan, detective, and he can feel a headache coming along. Jeonghan is a nosy bastard, and his interest only meant one thing—Jihoon would be interrogated for an extended period of time, on the opposite end of Jeonghan’s questioning. He really doesn’t want to listen to the other man run his yap. 

“Man, whichever poor bastard did that, they’re about to get their shit beaten out of them,” Yoon Jeonghan leans over Jihoon’s desk as soon as he’s managed to sit down, “how’s the virtual exile?”

“Exile?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow, “why would anyone send me into exile?”

Jeonghan laughs, handing him a cup of tepid coffee, “you’ve been assigned to patrol for the past few months, Lee, you really think they’re not punishing you?”

“And for what?” Jihoon laughs, “I’ve not done anything to make you say that, right? I’m not being punished.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “you being prime suspect number one is fool’s paradise, Lee. God knows how you’ve managed to stick on for this long.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Jihoon replies, standing up, “but just for that, you can accompany me out to patrols this evening.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jeonghan whines as Jihoon walks past him, but he shrugs it off. Jeonghan fucking hates patrol duty. He’d do anything to get away from it. In fact, most people in this station hate patrolling, save for him. At least this way, he can get rid of Jeonghan for the whole day. 

—

She raises an eyebrow at the house. It’s a modern monstrosity, rising irreverently above the city’s skyline. Suddenly, she thinks about the Choi family home in London, overlooking Regent’s Park, and all the greenery and gardens that surrounded it. In contrast, the house standing before her was something out of an art deco magazine, loud and unapologetic, nothing like the neoclassical villa she had spent her whole life in. 

“Like it, cousin?” the booming voice of Choi Seungcheol jolts her awake. He has his arms open, showing the house off, “brick and limestone, formerly owned by Stanford White, now by Choi Seungcheol!”

“Looks disastrous,” she mutters, hauling her suitcase out of the car’s boot, “when are my other cases arriving?”

Seungcheol laughs, “you sure packed enough books to saddle an entire ship, huh? No wonder people call you the dirty linen.”

“Dirty linen?” she huffs, even as Cheol knocks on the door, “wait, you’ve got staff here?”

“Not usually,” Choi replies, “but my wife insisted on getting you a dedicated ladies’ maid, just for a few days.”

“I can manage by myself,” she rolls her eyes, “but thank you, nevertheless.”

The door opens, and as Choi ushers her in, she looks up at the architecture of the whole house, momentarily struck dumb by the sheer amount of opulence that was on display. Large golden mirrors, chevron accents on the banisters. The sheer amount of money on display hurts her eyes. Multiple servants walk in the halls, either paying them no attention, or roundly ignoring them as they go about their work. She raises an eyebrow. Is this how the Americans do it?

There is a butler, of course, she notes idly, watching the middle-aged man call out to a footman. Cheol hums as the man picks up her suitcase with practised ease and carries it up the stairs; but there is no sign of Cheol’s wife either. 

“You have a wife, right?” She follows the man into his office, sidestepping bustling servants, whose quarters are much more subdued (though no less disconcerting on the eyes), “why is she not here?”

Seungcheol doesn't answer her question. Instead, he pours the two of them a glass of whiskey each, raising them in a toast, “but first, you need to tell me why you’re here, and not back in Gloucester Gate?”

She rolls her eyes, “you called me dirty linen, you ass. You’re telling me you have no idea?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, still smiling. She frowns. Choi Seungcheol is her cousin, but she’s never really liked the man. Too loud. Too particular. Too—shady for her tastes. He’d been exempted from draft in the War due to his work in the shipping industry, which meant that he was part of a rare category of young men who did not wake up screaming in the night. No, instead of that, Choi Seungcheol was dressed in a waistcoat decorated with mosaics of nautical scenes done in golden thread, with a dress shirt that looked like it had taken over a hundred hours of work to make. She thinks of her brother, languishing in Cambridge, crippled and away from the city he had always loved so dearly.

“Got arrested for rioting in front of an MP’s house last month,” she shrugs, “and unfortunately for me, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Arrested? What for?” Seungcheol narrows his eyes, “last I heard, you were campaigning for women getting the vote. Still on that?”

“Half of the English women got the vote two years ago,” she shrugs, “the suffrage movement has lost most of its teeth. Most of the people who wanted to have universal suffrage, alongside me, are now content with partial suffrage. Suffrage. Hah. The act makes sure that only women above a certain age are able to vote. It was bullshit.”

Cheol gasps, one of those funny little affectations he does that he thinks makes him more French, and then laughs one of his full-bellied laughs, “so? You got another cause?”

She wants to open her mouth to tell Seungcheol the reason behind her exile to New York, but something makes her pause. The people aboard the ship were given to gossip, which had given her a lot of information about how things were in New York. And not just the Prohibition. Palmer’s Raids. Red Scare. She doesn’t want to paint a target on her back on the first day of her arrival. Seungcheol looked genial enough, but someone who had managed to create a shipping empire out of nothing, would not be adhering to the dictionary definition of a ‘good man’. Basic sense, really. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know about my politics. He knows that I’ve been sent here, but he doesn’t know why. And my father will not tell him. For obvious reasons. Saving face. 

So, instead of answering his question truthfully, she fishes inside her reticule, and hands him an essay of hers, published just a month ago in the Workers’ Dreadnought, called The Case for Universal Suffrage. The article had slipped the notice of her father, but she had secured a clipping of it, storing it safely in her purse. She hands this slip of paper to Seungcheol, who gives the article a once-over, “this is why Uncle threw you into the jaws of the nouveau riche? For this pithy article?”

She shrugs, hoping to come off as nonchalant, “well, you know how he is.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head, “well, now that you’re here, we’ve got to go about throwing a party for you.”

Her face pales. “A party? Is this why they were all busy?” A party would be disastrous for her. Not right now. 

“Yes, a party,” Cheol grins, revealing sharp white teeth, perfectly kept, “don’t worry. It’s just a soiree. A couple people, not too many. It would be the best way for us to introduce you to the New York elite. There’s been a lot of gossip surrounding you already. People want to know who you are.”

She cannot see her face right now, but it’s possibly drained of all blood, and her pulse races in her ears as she thinks of the possible implications of a Cheol party. Normal parties were bad enough. But a Cheol party meant something worse. 

“I’ve heard enough tales of your parties at Sorbonne to be rightfully wary of your parties,” she laughs, the sound awkward and hollow in her ears, “I don’t wish to be a part of your parties, or whatever it is that you’re calling them nowadays.”

Cheol laughs, “yeah, we had a few good times in France. Right before the war, wasn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, you’re right. Just before the war.”

The man takes a swig of his drink, “we lost Walter in the Somme. Countless others all over the continent.”

“And you kept a Moulin Rouge dancer as your mistress for a month,” she raises an eyebrow, “I wonder if Ray knows all about that particular dalliance.”

Cheol laughs at her for a moment, then raises an eyebrow, “we keep our affairs separate. She doesn’t ask, and I do not pry. It works.”

“Right behind the old guard in terms of their marriages, huh?” she laughs, although the drink now tastes bitter and astringent, “anyways. No party. Not even if you plead. I refuse to get dressed up only to be paraded around a ballroom full of the most bored individuals known to Mankind.”

“I’m afraid you don’t get much of an option regarding that, doll,” Cheol grins, “the party people will be coming next evening. Don’t look like you’re going to the gallows, it’s just dinner with a couple friends.”

She groans, “all to gawk at the English woman, I suppose? Are you all so devoid of entertainment that I am now supposed to be a stand-in?”

He nods, standing up and opening the door of his study, “and do make sure to tell them everything about the Suffragette movement. Ladies do love gossip around here. Dinner’s at nine, darling. Have fun!”

“I’m going to beat you up, Choi Seungcheol!” she announces, just as the door slams shut behind her. 

—

She spends the rest of the afternoon acquainting herself with the large, quite spacious house. Nothing like my home, she thinks, not snidely, as a door opens to a less-than-wide verandah, overlooking busy Madison Avenue. The whole house takes a couple of hours to explore, and later, she dismisses the maid Cheol had assigned to her, and draws herself a bath. The water is cold enough for it to be a shock to her senses, and she lays in the cold water for what feels like an eternity, getting her bearings back. Trust Cheol to throw a party in honour of her arrival, one day after her arrival. She had wanted to ask, what would have happened, if the ship was late? If she had arrived a day later, who would Cheol be throwing this specific party for? Or did he throw parties like these every day? 

A maid comes into her room to inform her that Cheol will be taking tea in his office. She nods her head, and asks for the tea to be sent up to her room. Tea service comes up in a silver tray,  brought up by a maid who looks like she’s not a day over seventeen. As the girl sets the tray down on a table, she looks at her, “what’s your name?”

The girl jumps, as though she’s been struck by lightning, “Miss?”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares straight at the girl’s face, “your name, my dear. What’s your name?”

The girl blushes and looks down at her shoes, “Susan, miss. My name’s Susan.”

“Susan,” she turns over the name once and twice in her head, thinking back to young Lucy, who looked devastated when she had been packing her suitcases. Lucy was supposed to be in her sister’s house, back in Knowsley Hall, where no doubt her sister was making her do exceedingly boring things like polish the silver, or work in the laundry room. She doesn’t think too much about the image of young Lucy in the laundry room, and smiles at Susan, “can you show me to the library, Susan?”

Susan looks mighty pleased at this question and she nods her head fervently, “yes, Miss, of course. Mr Choi allows us to use the large family library whenever we want, so me and the other maids go and sit out there whenever we have some free time.”

“Really? He does?” She raises her eyebrows, “do you mind having a seat, Susan?”

“Have a seat?” the girl’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, “oh no, miss, I could not possibly, the housekeeper will have my head—”

“The housekeeper will never know,” she smiles, “and my name is Miss y/n. Call me by my name, Susan. Not Miss.”

“Miss y/n.” the girl stammers out, clearly bothered by this new term of address, “I mean—the mistress does not allow us to call anyone by their name. ‘Says it’s impolite.”

“My ladies’ maid called me by my name when I was in London, so you may call me by my name, Susan,” she reaches for her cup of tea, taking a sip of the very mediocre tea, “and if anyone gives you grief about it, I’ll tell them I told you to address me that way. Don’t worry.”

“Very well, Miss y/n,” Susan blushes, standing upright in a corner, “are you from London, miss y/n?”

She looks at the open, eager face of the maid, and nods her head, “I am. I’m Mr Choi’s cousin.”

Susan’s face lights up, “really, miss? How big is London? Is it really as wonderful as the papers say? I’ve always wanted to go to London one time, at least.”

“What do the papers say?” she sets down her teacup, and reaches for her cigarette case, “London is like any other city. Although I suppose it is quite old. Which means there’s a lot of old architecture in the city. Far older than New York, at least.”

“Really?” the girl claps her hands, “I do love looking at old houses. They’re all designed so beautifully, it takes my breath away. I know so much about the great houses of England, but I’ve never managed to save enough to go and see them.”

“Really?” While she knows, on some level, that her house was a historical landmark, famous even in England for its neoclassical facade, hearing it from the mouth of a random seventeen-year-old in New York makes it all the more different. “I suppose I have never thought of it that way,” she admits, “my house in London was in a neoclassical style. Maybe I’ll write to my sister to send some of our old photographs.”

She takes a drag of the cigarette, wincing slightly as the smoke drifts straight into her eyes, “of course, she can send over other pictures too, from her house. She’s been to a lot of those old houses in England.”

“That would be wonderful,” Susan smiles gratefully, “should I take the tea service away now, miss y/n?”

“You can take it away, but I would like to see the library before you disappear into the kitchen.” She stubs out her cigarette, and the two of them make their way down a few hallways, stepping past servants until they come to stand in front of a large pair of double doors. She thanks Susan, then closes the door behind her. 

Her first thought is this is nothing compared to my home. It’s a selfish thought; to be sure, but it’s true, she thinks, rather unkindly, as the tall shelves come into view, half of them sitting empty. Back at home, the shelves were entirely filled with books, collected over centuries by her ancestors, a place of refuge for her and her siblings from all the usual drama of their family. There were long afternoons which were spent reading novels with Margaret (Margaret read novels while she pored over her law books), or discussing philosophy with Jonathan. Chelton would bring cold sandwiches, and Mrs Wilson would send up a pot of ice-cold lemonade. And for those hours, the three of them could forget about the endless arguments that grew harder and harder to ignore. 

“Hegel, Schelling, Leibniz, Kant, he’s got the whole canon of German philosophers in here,” she mutters to herself, fingers trailing over the spines. The books looked barely read. It was very evident that no one in this house had any patience for the German philosophers. She doesn’t even want to think if there are books on American jurisprudence. Cheol was no doubt busy with his ledgers and his economic prospects, and the others—her gaze falls upon a shelf stuffed with novels, spines threadbare, falling apart page by page—the others seemed to have different tastes. 

Arms full of romantic-era German philosophers, she walks back to her room as briskly as possible, checking the time on the large grandfather clock near her room. An hour to dinner. She doesn’t know if dinners were formal occasions in New York, but surely they were not getting dressed in impractical evening gowns every evening to eat dinner with the family? But on another thought, it is the day of my arrival here, which would mean it was a formal occasion. The arrival of a guest is always a formal occasion. Wait, then what about the soiree?

She spends half an hour agonising, then another half hour lounging on the chaise, smoking cigarette after cigarette in an effort to calm herself down. It’s no big deal, she tells herself, it is not as though I have entire wardrobes dedicated to formal parties and formal dinners. Anything is fine. 

With half an hour to go for dinner, Susan knocks on the door to help her get dressed, but she waves her away, “take a break,” she says, as the girl starts gesticulating her protests, “I don’t need help to dress up. I am perfectly capable of doing things myself.”

“But miss y/n,” Susan says, wringing her hands, “the housekeeper will scold me if I go back now. She’s told me that I’m to assist you in dressing up.”

“In London, I only needed help to do my hair, the rest I did it myself, as most people do,” she sighs, “still, as you’re here, take a momentary break. Sit on the sofa until I finish dressing, and then you can help me with my hair.”

Susan looks scandalised. “The sofa!" she gasps, “miss, I could not possibly—”

“Just take a seat on an ottoman then,” she laughs, “I’m not going to throw you out of my room if you take a seat on the sofa. And I doubt Cheol would allow me to do that.”

Susan nods, still skeptical, and busies herself on the ottoman couch, while she disappears behind a folding screen to dress herself. While still unsure about the nature of the dinner, she settles for something normal; an altered walking suit, paired with her brother’s old waistcoats that she had altered to her proportions. Sensible shoes, an expensive wristwatch. 

When she steps out from behind the screen, Susan pins her fashionable short bob back into a hairstyle that makes a lot of sense for a family dinner. She thanks her, before stepping out of the room as soon as the dinner bell rings. 

As her luck has it, Cheol is dressed for a full formal dinner. His wife, Ray, is here, a serene smile fixed on her face. The two of them take a look at her clothes, and Cheol raises an eyebrow, before saying, “I do hope you have some proper party clothes, cousin. That outfit would not look out of place in a suffragette rally.”

“Suffragette?” Ray asks, eyes wide, almost knocking over a soup tureen, “you were a suffragette, Cousin y/n?”

“Still am,” she replies, nodding thanks to the butler as he places a dish in front of her, “votes for women are a cornerstone of the equal rights movement in any country.”

“Well, I for one enjoy the right to exercise my vote, Cousin,” Ray squeezes her arm with a wide smile (genuine?) “Thank you for all that you have done.”

“Gotten herself thrown out of her father’s home, more like,” Cheol says with a snigger, “votes for women are good and all that, but militancy? Come on, cousin. One must be civilised in order for their opponent to recognise their worth.”

She doesn’t answer. Cheol’s not really worth it. Ray takes offense on her behalf, turning on her husband, “and how would you know that? You’ve barely taken a stand against anything in your life.”

Cheol laughs, raising his hands in surrender, and that’s it. The rest of the dinner is spent discussing the preparations for the soiree the following evening, the invited guests, and the menu that Ray had decided to serve, along with the housekeeper. Cheol rattles off a list of names she barely recognises, and then fixes her with a grin, “I’ve invited some of your friends from England, cousin,” he says, “they were here on business, and when they heard that you were here, they immediately decided that they had to come.”

“Ooh, suitors?” Ray claps, clearly excited, “who are they, darling?”

She groans. “People from London? I barely know anyone from London, save the girls I associated with in university.” and the rest of my associates, she thinks, staring at her water glass. 

“Bradbury will be here tomorrow evening,” Cheol says, eyes glinting, “you remember Bradbury, right?”

“The slightly idiotic guy who bribed his way through Harrow?” She makes a face. 

“Victor.”

“Don’t know him.”

“Henderson.”

“Don’t care enough for him.”

“Bratton.”

This gets her attention. She sits up a little, trying to gauge if her cousin was pulling a cruel joke on her or if he had genuinely invited the one person she did not want to see the face of, “why the hell would you invite that loon?”

“Language, cousin!” Cheol smiles, raising his glass in mock-toast, “I merely let it slip that you were going to be staying with us for a little while, and he went positively gaga about meeting you. Almost begged me to invite him tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Ray frowns, “the man from the War Office? He’s cousin y/n’s beau?”

“He’s nothing but an annoying pestilence to me,” she groans, setting down her glass, “thank you for the wonderful dinner. I shall need to excuse myself.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much, cousin!” Cheol says loudly, and she turns to look at him from the doorway. 

“I think you should give more importance to a lady’s no, cousin.” she replies, before sweeping out of the dining room. 

—

Jihoon has spent the last three hours categorising stupid inventory of the police evidence cabinets. His plan was to leave the station at five in the evening, but a shipment of illegal alcohol coming in meant that he was now stuck in the trenches, trying to catalogue the mountain of evidence left behind by the other detectives for him to organise. There are five other police officers beside him in the station, Jeonghan, the captain, and three others whose names he had not cared to memorise. 

The clock strikes twelve, signalling midnight, and he stretches his limbs, yawning. He still has a report to write for the evidence catalogue, and after that, he needs to make his own notes. Not to mention that Jihoon is unfortunately, very, very tired. He’s just tired and annoyed, and he needs to go home, and get some sleep. He has so much work to do. So much work, and so little time. Sometimes, Jihoon thinks that if he had thirty hours in the day instead of twenty-four, his work would have been a little more feasible. 

He leans back in his chair, wiping at his eyes, and Jeonghan walks up to him, “they’ve got you cataloguing evidence, Jihoon?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, “I don’t really mind, Jeonghan. I like the evidence cataloguing, and someone has to do it.”

“Yes, someone meaning a young patrol officer, not a twenty-nine year old detective with five years of experience in the force,” the other man pokes at Jihoon, “why do you put up with it? They’ve got you doing grunt work when you could be doing so much more.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to tell Jeonghan exactly why he likes working in evidence and traffic violations, because the other man would waste no time in weaponising the information to put Jihoon out of a job. 

Jeonghan, evidently very bothered by his lack of a response, pokes at Jihoon again, “Lee Jihoon. Aren’t you going to go for a promotion this year either? You know, you’ve been due for a promotion for the past two years?”

“I’m fine with the position I have right now, Jeonghan, thank you,” Jihoon shakes his head, “I don’t need more.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jeonghan sighs, as the phone rings loudly, “who else would pass up on a promotion because they are happy with their situation? No one but you, apparently.”

“Pick up the phone, Yoon Jeonghan,” he says, glaring at both the man and the solitary red phone, which has been ringing off the hook for the past three minutes now, “just go. Some poor sod is calling his precinct, and we’re here gossiping.”

“Whatever,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but goes to pick up the receiver anyway, “yes?”

Jihoon pauses his record-taking, looking at the man as he talks into the receiver for a good three minutes, nodding as he jots down something in his police notebook, his face serious. Jeonghan mutters, “yes, and?” a couple times into the receiver, then hears something being said on the other side of the line, and hangs up, after telling them, “we’ll be there shortly.”

The whole exchange is weird. Jihoon watches as Jeonghan's face becomes more and more tense, then becomes dangerously blank. Jihoon has seen that expression on Jeonghan exactly once before, when the man was recalling his memories of fighting at the Battle of Cantigny, and he was talking about the people that had died on the end of his bayonet. He’s never seen Jeonghan with that expression in the context of the police station, not before. Suddenly, he feels slightly nauseous. 

“Lee Jihoon,” Jeonghan calls out, face still stony, “let’s go. We’ve been called.”

“Called?” Jihoon asks, “to where?”

“The Choi House on Madison Avenue,” Jeonghan says, stiff, as though the truth is impossible for him to bear, “there’s been a murder.”

—

She fucking hates Bratton. 

The man has been whispering in her ear for the whole evening, talking endlessly about his current business with the British War Office. Going on and on about his exploits in the War, and how his current work as a secretary for the British War Office had him moving between the oceans, and how she would be an important addition to his family. She hates him. He’s probably not even a high-up executive in the War office. Got in on his father’s recommendation, after all. 

“You’d love my mother, y/n,” he had said as they sat down to dinner, “you know how she loves you.”

“Lay off it, Bratton,” she had replied, voice angry, “I’m not interested.”

But it seemed that her apparent disinterest had had no effect on the man, because in between the first course and the second (who in their right minds would have so many courses prepared for a damn soiree?) he had told her again and again about how he would be the perfect man for her. Did the man have no shame?

And the night had been shaping up to be so much fun, too. She had wrangled Susan into fashioning her hair into one of those newfangled updos, a chignon straight out of a Parisian fashion plate. Even her dress was new and gorgeous, an indulgence she usually refrained from in London. Ray and Seungcheol had both told her she looked very beautiful in her dress as she came down before the guests made their appearance, and later, in the soiree, she’d met Lady Paxton, who was the wife of one of Seungcheol’s many friends. She had some ideas about the recent developments in continental politics, and it seemed as though she had an interest in her ideas about politics as well. But apparently, Bratton was hell-bent on making sure everything about this otherwise wonderful evening was going to be ruined. 

When the music had started up, Ray putting on a fairly old record of Scott Joplin for them to dance to, he had held out his hand towards her, looking at her with an expression of interest, “y/n,” he had said, “would you like to dance?”

She had taken one look at him, and turned her face away, “I fear I’m indisposed for the evening, Bratton,” she had said, “I’m not really interested in dancing.”

Bratton had shrugged, said, “all ladies say this,” and walked over to another young woman whose attention he could monopolise for the dance. She had heaved a sigh of relief, attracting the attention of Lady Paxton. The woman was dressed in the latest fashions, presumably from Paris. She doesn’t care that much. It’s probably because of her husband’s money. 

“Admirer?” the woman had asked, voice low enough to not garner any unwelcome listeners, “he seems persistent.”

“He’s annoying is what he is,” she had rolled her eyes, “I wish I could box him over the ears and get it into his head that I’m not interested in him at all.”

Lady Paxton had cocked her head, “have you told him he’s got no hope with you?”

“Many times, but I fear nothing will ever get through to him, unless it’s at the end of a barrel,” she had joked, “god, sometimes he’s so annoying, I wish I could just kill him.”

Lady Paxton had laughed nervously, looking around the room, “for both of us, I hope no one has overheard your words, miss,” she had said, “but enough of men. Do tell me about your father. Is he still with Barclays?”

She laughs, raising her glass to her lips, “yes, he’s Chairman of Barclays Bank right now, but I am here.”

“Yes, miss, I have heard much of your exploits while I was in London,” Lady Paxton had said, “you are a suffragette, right?”

She shifts in her chair. Suddenly, Lady Paxton’s attention seems slightly uncomfortable to her, as though she’s been put under observation in a laboratory. She laughs, trying to play it off, “I’ve long held those beliefs, yes, my lady.”

The woman nods, drinking deeply, “and do you think granting every woman the right to vote will be the path forward?”

“It will be the path forward if we are to envision a society post the destruction of the Great War,” she had said, trying not to look too enthused or fired up in front of Lady Paxton, “it’s clear to me that the Old World Order is in dire need of replacing. There has to be a change in the political scenario, of some sort.”

Lady Paxton seems inordinately interested in her words, “oh? Do tell me more, miss y/n. I’m very intrigued by your words.”

She opens her mouth to say something more, but it’s at this moment that the design of the chandelier catches her eye, with its gas bulbs flickering and blinking at her, slightly hypnotising. It takes her only ten seconds, but she’s already lost her track of thought, which means she looked blankly at Lady Paxton, “sorry, what was I saying?”

The woman had looked at her like she wanted to say something, but it’s at this moment that Cheol decided to intervene, walking over to the two of them and laying a hand on her shoulder, effectively silencing them both. “You were talking about the dance,” he said, smiling at them both, although it did not quite reach his eyes. He then turned to Lady Paxton, with the same fake smile he’s put on all this while, and said, “I’m sorry, milady, I fear my cousin is in dire need of refreshments. And I do have a conversation I need to have with her, so if you shall excuse us.”

And without giving her so much time as to apologise to the woman for leaving her in the middle of a party, he had dragged her by her arm, straight down the corridor into his office. 

“What the hell are you doing, Cheol?” she yelled at him, as soon as the door shut behind them, “I was talking to the woman!”

Cheol groaned, rolling his eyes at her yelling, and pointed a finger at her, “you were talking about your radical ideas to get women into Congress or whatever. And you were doing so with one of the most scheming women I have ever had the fortune to encounter.”

“You shall not speak ill of her like that?” she snapped, “Lady Paxton is, by all means, a most normal woman!”

“Do you know who her brother was, cousin?”

She pauses, “who was her brother?”

“Her brother was Derrick Millibrand. She hasn’t told you any of this, has she? Of course not, you’ve only known her for an hour, I’ve known her for a whole year.” Cheol sighed, “she’s one of the worst people I have ever had to talk to. God, even her husband is annoying as fuck, but he isn’t here, which means she’s about ten times as worse than what she usually is.”

She had fallen silent at that. Lady Paxton, the woman who had been, for the past hour and a  half, listening to all her complaints about Bratton so patiently, was sister to Derrick Millibrand? And she had been so gracious when she had to listen to her go on and on about politics. Most people did not like that about her. Still, Cheol was correct. She did not know anyone here. And in her haste to endear herself to the high society of New York, it appears as though she had made a faux pas. 

“Fine, I’ll no longer speak to her about political matters if you don’t think it is suitable,” she relented, not missing the gratified look on Cheol’s face, “what’s the other matter you wanted to talk to me about?”

This time, he had looked far more at peace with whatever he had been about to say, but whatever it was that she needed to hear, was abruptly halted, as the lights chose that specific moment to give out. There were muffled noises coming from the room, but she could not make out the specifics of the people scrambling for lights. 

“The fucking main switch must have given out again,” Cheol had grumbled from beside her, lighting a candle with a flourish, “never mind. I’ll go and ask the butler to see to it.”

“And leave me alone in the dark?” she had raised an eyebrow, “come on, Cheol, please do not be stupid. At least leave me a candle if you’re going to go ask the butler something.”

Cheol had shrugged, “I only have one candle in here, cousin. My house is not particularly affected by losing power, you see. Anyway, you should wait out in the corridor, if you’re that afraid of the dark.”

“What—I’m not afraid of the dark, Choi Seungcheol!” she had yelled, even as the man began to walk out of the room, which meant that she was going to be stuck there, in the foreseeable future. She was not afraid of the dark. She just detested being in an enclosed space, along with books and records and ledgers that were no doubt important to Cheol’s work. If something were to happen to them, he would naturally blame her first, which would throw a wrench in her father’s plans to keep her here for the foreseeable future. 

So she waited outside in the hallway, her ears trained for any sign of a living soul slipping past her and going into her cousin’s office. Cheol was the kind of person who was given to playing tricks, and she did not put him above engineering this whole farce himself, in order to give his guests some kind of fun to look forward to. Or he did it because he was an asshole. She truly did not know. 

Minutes passed, then a quarter of an hour. Her legs were beginning to ache; she wanted to find a seat for some respite from it all. How long had she been standing there, along the wall, waiting for her cousin? The muffled noises from the ballroom were growing more insistent, then stopped altogether. She suspected that Ray, the consummate host, had put their fluttering nerves to rest. Or that they had found a hidden stash of candles behind the piano. 

Suddenly, a noise. A quiet shuffling of feet, slowly along the opposite wall. She did not know these footsteps. Cheol had always been given to a club-like footstep; his comings and goings could be predicted from across the house. But this was quieter. Someone who did know the house very well, but they were taking pains to not let anyone become aware of their comings and goings. Peculiar. Highly peculiar, especially in a house like this one. She trained her ears, holding her breath. Who is it? One of the guests? 

The footsteps stop about two feet away from her, and there’s another bout of shuffling, before there’s a snick, and then there’s no noise at all. Everything is silent. She’s still holding her breath. 

Then there’s no more noise, but then the same shuffling noise begins, this time moving away from her. She’s half convinced that she should follow the noise, but thinks better of it. Then—nothing. For minutes, nothing. 

After a while, when she’s convinced her legs have fallen entirely asleep, the lights flicker on, and she can see Cheol clomping towards her, genuine frustration writ on his face. “The damn butler did not know when or how the lights went off, I’m going to fire his ass the next time this happens—y/n?” he looked confused to see her there, “what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for the lights to come on,” she had confessed easily, “what did you want to tell me?”

“Fine, but come inside,” Cheol held the door to his office open, “I need to talk to you in private.”

She did not say anything, but simply followed him inside his office. Cheol had poured himself a measure of whiskey, looking every bit the annoying cousin who had been forced to put up with her for the foreseeable future, “Your father sent me a telegram this morning.”

She pulled a face. “My father would not do anything that allowed me to have a chance at being happy,” she had said, “what did he say?”

“He said that Bratton’s father, the Secretary of the War Office, has asked him about getting him married to you,” Cheol said with a shrug of his shoulders. He drinks deeply, not meeting her eyes, “your father is pushing for this marriage, if you must know.”

“What, Bratton’s father went to my father, to ask for my hand in marriage?” she had laughed, “what is this, the Regency Era? Is this a performance of Pride and Prejudice that I was not aware of? Why is this being presented to me as a genuine option?”

“Because it is!” Cheol snapped, then composed himself in order to be able to look at her, “I’m not the person you should be having this conversation with. Your father is. And Bratton, by the looks of it.”

“I complied with my father’s ridiculous demand and moved to the other side of the Atlantic, just to be informed that my father had already arranged for my marriage?” she had screamed at Cheol, “and not just a marriage, but a lifetime of being shackled to the most insufferable, insouciant, wet blanket of a man—”

“I fail to see your problem with Bratton!”

“My problem is that it should be my choice!” she yelled at him, not caring halfway if the door was wide open or not, “if I wish to marry that man or not, it should be my choice. I should be able to make a choice regarding one of the most important decisions of my life, and it was taken away from me, just because my father refuses to believe his daughters have all had a pair of working brains!” 

“Bratton is a fine man. He’s in the War Office, which means he has some access to political circles, and his father is Secretary of the War Office, which means you have more access to politics, in order to be able to push for the reforms you so badly want.”

“Bratton is an insipid cunt, and I refuse to consort with him for something so low and base as political access,” she seethed, “I have enough political connections to not rely on the Secretary of the War Office to push reforms society badly needs. I can do it on my own merits. I do not need fucking Bratton to do it for me.”

“I forgot you were a flag-bearing radical,” Cheol laughed, then immediately sobered up at the dark look on her face, “come now, cousin, I wish you no harm.”

“No, you’re just annoying and stupid enough to go along with the disaster of a plan that my father has thought appropriate for me,” she grumbled, but allowed herself to be led out of the office by him, “surely you don’t expect me to marry someone who got into the War Office just because of his father’s connections as the Secretary. That would make me willingly complicit in whatever shit they get up to in London, and I do not want that.”

“You don’t want a lot of things, cousin,” Cheol said, as they walked down the corridor to rejoin the party, “what do you want?”

“I want to shoot Bratton with the derringer I have for special occasions,” she muttered, “he certainly annoys me enough to warrant that action.”

“Be careful with what you say, cousin,” he said, hand on the handle of the door, “there may be people who are listening in on your words right now.”

She had been feeling a bit bold, so she had thrown her head back, laughed at Cheol, and said, “and what if they do? There is no one here that I fear.”

Cheol had shaken his head at her, “you should be fearing people, cousin. You should.”

The doors had opened, and they had gone back to the party, with its loud music and dancing, and Ray had looked at her like she had been staring at a particularly difficult puzzle. No one else spoke to her, but Bratton came up to her as soon as she had stepped foot inside the large sitting room, grinning from ear to ear, hopeful expression on his face. She wanted to slap it off of him. 

“Miss y/n,” he had said, “has your cousin talked to you?”

“Regarding?” she said blandly, more interested in the cutlery, “I’m sure if it was something important, he would tell me.”

“He hasn’t told you?” he had said, frowning, “he told me that he would talk to you about it today.”

“Maybe later, tomorrow, or in the far future,” she had said, moving forward to take a glass of mystery liquid from a passing maid’s tray, “see you around, Bratton.”

Ray had come up to her then, holding her arm, “you need to tell me if Mr Bratton is making you uncomfortable, cousin.”

“He’s insignificant,” she had said, “I will no longer pay him any attention. Come, cousin, let us dance.”

And then there had been merrymaking, with her leading Ray in a four-step that was as fun as it was quick and satisfying, with Cheol playing a merry tune on the piano. She had spun around and around with Ray in her arms, laughing about the whole matter. She would tell Cheol in no uncertain terms that she did not want Bratton as her husband. And if he disagreed with her opinion on the matter, she would write to her brother and her sister. Both of them would be terribly indignant on her behalf, and her sister would likely force her brother-in-law to march down to the War Office to demand why there was a marriage being arranged without the consent of the bride. 

The clock struck eleven at night, and Cheol stood up to clap his hands to signal that dinner had been served, when the lights went out again. There had been another flurry, and she could hear Ray calling for her husband, but Cheol was busy with problems of his own, calling for the butler and swearing up and down that he would fire him at the earliest opportunity. 

“Why that little—”

“Cheol! Seungcheol! Why are the lights going out again!”

“I swear to God, if I don’t fire that man before—”

Bang!

Then the lights had flickered on again, but the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the room, and they all took a headcount of the people who were there. Everyone who had been invited by the Chois was accounted for. The ladies, the gentlemen, and—

There was a body. 

Charles Bratton lay on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his chest. He was laid out in an unnatural position, just beside the piano where he had been deep in conversation with another gentleman, minutes before the lights went off and the gunshot rang out. 

Charles Bratton was dead. 

—

“Man, these people,” Jeonghan mutters, getting out of the car, “my wife will harangue me about all the details of the rich-people party.”

“You make it sound like it’s going to be a drag, when I know for a fact that you will recount everything to her in deep detail, you idiot,” Jihoon replies, looking up at the building, “who can even afford to throw a party like this?”

“Choi Seungcheol can,” comes the prompt reply, “only one man can throw a party of such great proportions. And of course, he's the owner of the largest shipping company in the Americas. No one else could do that.”

“They’re saying it was a soiree,” Jihoon shrugs, following Jeonghan into the building, “who else was in attendance?”

“About five other people, apart from Choi Seungcheol, his wife Ray, and their cousin.”

“Cousin?” Jihoon doesn’t particularly like the concept of cousins. He has so few, and they all don’t know of his existence. Maybe a letter is sent to his parents once in a while, but nothing more. He’s very content with keeping his distance from his cousins. Is Choi Seungcheol the same?

The large, almost comical, mansion rises up to meet their gaze from the intersection of Madison Avenue. In another, more just world, this would be a block of apartments, providing housing for the millions of unhoused people around New York City, but it belonged to a single family, and their fleet of servants. Jihoon hates this. He wishes to say something, but holds his tongue, because he knows Jeonghan might not like what he’s about to say. 

The other man opens his mouth, “I wish they tore this all down to build something for the community.” Jihoon stares at Jeonghan, “all this space, for a single family. Makes you think about how people live in this country.”

“Don’t let anyone else hear you saying that,” Jihoon whispers, as they make their way through the foyer, “the captain might have your head for that.”

Jeonghan laughs, “and who do you think pays our wages? They don’t do it. It comes out of the city’s pockets, which means the people’s taxes pay our wages. I can say whatever I want to say.”

Jihoon just shakes his head. 

The inside is even more impressive, done in the fashionable styles of Paris and Milan, ostentatious in the worst possible manner. Jihoon does not know of anyone else who has weaponised art deco to this degree. Maybe everyone else is this way? Or is it a rich people thing? He does not know. And he does not want to think too much about it, lest he get into trouble for opening his big mouth too much.

There is a butler, because of course there is a butler. What kind of rich person would Choi Seungcheol be, if he did not have a butler? The man greets the two of them in the foyer, bowing stiffly, “welcome, sirs. I shall show you to the large sitting-room.”

“Large sitting room?” Jeonghan laughs, mocking, “are there more than one?”

“Yes, sir.” The man responds, immune to everything, Jihoon supposes. He’s never met anyone who was unbothered while facing Jeonghan’s particular brand of cynical mocking, “everyone is waiting there for you.”

“And is the crime scene left undisturbed for us?” Jihoon says, mostly because Jeonghan is opening his mouth again, and he does not want to hear another one of his sarcastic comments about the decor of the house (which is hideous) and he just wants to get it done. It’s almost one in the morning, and he just wants to go back to his home and get some rest before he has to drag himself back to the office the next morning. He’s so tired, and now he has to investigate a crime scene with Jeonghan, of all people. 

The doors to the large sitting room open, and even Jeonghan is rendered speechless by the sheer opulence on display. Jihoon wants to take everything in here and sell it for parts. Large chandeliers, something that would cost upwards of a thousand dollars. An expensive grand piano. Wallpapers that were gilded with real gold, from the looks of it. More expensive pieces on all the walls. A painting done by a Dutch master, hanging on the walls like it was just a commonplace decoration. The thick tobacco smoke curls into itself, making for a very foggy atmosphere. He assumes the men have been smoking from the stress of looking at a dead body, but there are women in here as well, half of whom look terrified, and the rest—look as though they’re used to it all. 

“The women who aren’t bothered by the blood were nurses in the war,” Jeonghan whispers in his ear, “they’re the tough sort. Probably saw more blood and gore than normal soldiers did. Brought more people back to health than most of us did.”

Jihoon nods his head. He remembers the nurses from the war, the ones with the gruff voices and the gentle touches. The people who made him whole when he was recuperating in France, of all places. He owes them his life. But who in here was a nurse?

He looks at everyone. There’s Choi Seungcheol, the host, looking harried and frustrated at the whole affair. Jihoon recognised him from a picture spread in the newspaper the previous month, but nothing had prepared him for the look of abject terror in the man’s face. He looked as though he had aged ten years in a day. 

And in the middle of it all, beside the piano, lies a body, bleeding out from his chest. He does not know this man. Who could it be?

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” Jeonghan claps his hands, “we need to get to work, huh.”

—

The medical examiner says the cause of death is a single gunshot, and Jihoon wants to laugh. Yes, tell us more things we can divine from a single glance, you fool. Beside him, Jeonghan grows increasingly antsy as the night progresses, taking more frequent looks at the wall-clock as the minutes tick by. Jihoon wants to laugh at him. but he keeps his mouth shut. Wisely. 

“Right, let’s get this over with,” Jeonghan claps his hands, looking askance at the gathered guests, “who were the invited?”

Choi Seungcheol looks like he’s about to have a fit, but he manages to recover nonetheless, and waves a hand, “the Lady Paxton, Miss Bertha Aldrin, Miss Mildred Ramsden, Miss Francine Wellesley, and of course, Mr Charles Bratton.” He looks positively distraught while he says the name of the deceased man, and Jihoon wants to clap him on the shoulders and tell him to put his ‘chin up’, but he doesn’t think the man would like that. In fact, he’s going to be sent right back to the station, the moment he tries anything like that. It’s not a bad thought, really. 

“Who are the other members of the family?” Jeonghan is now taking notes in his notebook, so Jihoon follows suit, not particularly because he has anything to write down; he just does not want to be seen as irresponsible. Choi Seungcheol might write to the captain and ask to get him off the case, and this is the first time in years that Jihoon’s felt excited about the prospect of solving a case. 

“Apart from the staff, we have me, my wife, Ray, and my cousin, who’s come to our home from London,” Choi Seungcheol waves another hand, looking like a gross parody of the crucifixion of Jesus, “there she is.”

Jeonghan hums, non-committal, so it is up to Jihoon to be the normal one, and he looks at the person Choi Seungcheol is indicating to. His cousin. 

Jihoon does not know what he expected. The word cousin does not invoke very happy memories in his mind, and he had half thought that the person who was a part of Choi Seungcheol’s family would be some sort of old woman, long past her prime, a woman who, according the rules of the upper classes, must now live on the kindness of her relatives. He’d expected maybe a young child, an adolescent girl with no idea about the world that she had stepped into. Maybe she had already run crying from the room and taken refuge in her quarters. 

He had not expected—this. 

The woman was seated on the largest chaise in the room, lounging with all the grace of a wild big cat that had been forced indoors for a moment. She had on a simple blue dress, probably made from fabric that cost a year’s wages for him, but that’s not what captivates Jihoon. No. It's her eyes. She looks positively haunted, her eyes bright and shiny. Her eyes are huge and dark, and Jihoon wants to imagine that there are unshed tears in them. She doesn’t look disturbed by the sight of a corpse a few feet away from her, however, and she stares right at him. She looks unimpressed by the sights of both him and Jeonghan. Jihoon cannot say anything against her sentiment, but he shares it, somewhat. 

“What else do they need to know?” the woman asks, sounding supremely bored, “if you shall excuse me, I’m going to go up to bed. There is no requirement for my presence at this moment.”

She says this with all the airs of a bored princess, but Jihoon can hear the slight tremble in her voice, one that lets him know that this is affecting her ability to talk properly, and that she’d probably sitting down on that chaise, not because she was bored and elegant like all the society ladies that Jihoon has seen over the years, but probably because she was unable to walk on her own two feet at the moment. 

“Stop gawking,” Jeonghan whispers in his ear, “it’s rude.”

“I’m not gawking,” Jihoon whispers back, although he feels a little silly about it. 

The woman stands up, holding onto the back of the chaise for support, “if you need to interrogate me, I will be in the house tomorrow, and I can make an appearance down at the police station. There is nothing more I have to say right now, is there?” That last bit is said while looking at Choi Seungcheol, who nods fervently, eager to not make a headline out of a family scandal. Jihoon sympathises, if only a minuscule bit. By the next morning, the death of the English War Secretary’s son, Charles Bratton, would be plastered across every newsstand in New York (and in the house of the largest shipping magnate in the city, too!). He can sympathise. He really doesn’t want to, but he can. The man was probably eager to shove this all under the carpet and call this an unfortunate incident, and let it go. 

“Well, since the body will be taken away in a moment, there’s really nothing left for us right now,” Jeonghan replies, shutting his notebook with a snap, “we have noted down the addresses of all the invitees, and you are free to go. Do make a note that we will be interviewing you as soon as possible.”

There are murmured agreements and disagreements, but Jihoon does not stay around for all of it, and the two of them make their way out of the large sitting room and into the ugly foyer, where the butler once again greets them, and shows them the way out. Jihoon thinks that the relief on the man’s face is too prominent, even for a butler. Weren’t they all supposed to be emotionless beings who only moved at the behest of their masters?

There is a crowd gathered outside the house, because of course there is. As the two of them make their way to the car, Jeonghan is stopped in his tracks by Boo Seungkwan, a reporter for The New York Times that Jihoon has never had the fortune (or misfortune) of encountering. He’s taking pictures of the house, the blinding flash going off every thirty seconds. 

“Nice to see you here, Mr Boo,” Jeonghan says, tone placid, even as the man scowls deeply. 

“Of course, Detective Yoon,” Boo Seungkwan’s tone is not overtly obsequious, but has a touch of deference in it that makes Jihoon wonder exactly how Jeonghan knew the man, “but we have been hearing reports of Charles Bratton, in service to the British War Office, has died inside the house, and would like your comment on these events, if possible. Do you think this is going to become a possible source of tension for our relations with the United Kingdom?”

Jihoon frowns. How did they all know? Charles Bratton was in the War Office, for sure, but that did not mean his death was a matter of national significance. They barely knew anything about his death in the first place. All that they currently knew was that the man was being carted across the city in a refrigerated truck, and was about to be cut open by a surgeon and stuffed in a morgue. That was the extent of their knowledge. What else does he expect us to know? We’ve barely been in there for half an hour. 

“Well, once we have a better idea of what’s going on, we’ll send out a press release, so keep an eye out for that,” Jeonghan replies smoothly, grabbing hold of Jihoon’s sleeve and dragging him to their car. Once they’re in there, safe from the buzz of random reporters, all arriving on the scene with their flashbulbs in tow, he looks at Jeonghan, confused, “who was that?”

Jeonghan, who has been intently observing the contents of his police notebook, frowns, “who? Boo seungkwan? He’s annoying, but he’s a fairly good crime reporter. It’s the people from places like The Wall Street Journal or The New York Post that you have to watch out for. They’re the real sharks.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, of course you don’t understand, you’ve only been involved in a murder investigation one time.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “anyway, you were looking at the cousin like she was the secret code to Fort Knox. What's up with that?”

“I was not looking.” Jihoon groans, but puts the car back into life anyway, “she was interesting, that’s all.”

“Interesting,” Jeonghan makes a note in his book, “is that what the kids are saying these days? Instead of  ‘I’d like to fuck her into next Tuesday’?”

“Please don’t be crass,” Jihoon sighs, “I did not expect someone like that.”

“What did you expect? An old woman? A middle-aged man?”

“At the very least, I was expecting a man,” Jihoon lies, just to get Jeonghan to quit smirking at him, “what?”

“Of all the people you would want to put your cock into, she is in the running for the top three worst contenders. Perhaps the worst, if not for the President’s daughter.” Jeonghan cackles, “do you really not know who she is?”

“I’m not equipped with the knowledge of the rich and powerful of New York, so, no, I do not know.” Jihoon grumbles, pressing his foot to the accelerator, but he’s still curious about her, so he looks at Jeonghan, and asks, as casually as he can, “what about her?”

The other man laughs loudly, as though he has been waiting for Jihoon to ask this specific question, “she was in the newspapers during the war, didn’t you know that? She was all over the newspapers, on both sides of the Atlantic.”

“I did not know that,” Jihoon confesses, and it’s true, he did not know that, “why was she there?”

“She’s the youngest daughter of the Chairman of Barclay’s,” Jeonghan whistles, “yeah, you heard me. She used to be a nurse for the VAD during the war. They even used her for advertisements and such. You sure you haven’t heard of her?”

Jihoon shakes his head, “I’m pretty sure. If there was something to know about her, I would have heard about it. But I haven’t, which means she’s largely unimportant.”

“Unimportant to idiots like you,” Jeonghan snorts as the two of them get out of the car, the pitch black night sky blinking to life around them, “if she was there at Choi Seungcheol’s house, and Charles Bratton is dead, there is a high chance that she has something to do with it.”

“Aren’t you being a little presumptive?” Jihoon asks, as they walk into the mostly-deserted station, entirely resigned to the prospect of a night shift, “she could have nothing to do with it.”

“Lee Jihoon. In my experience, women rarely cross the Atlantic for something unimportant. Mind you, Jihoon, she’s here for something. And that something might have had to do with Charles Bratton, or his death this evening.”

Jihoon frowns. He doesn’t think she’s guilty, but from the way Jeonghan seems convinced, he’s starting to get suspicious about her as well. “She’s from England?” he asks, settling down into his seat, “then why is she here? I can understand if Bratton was here on account of his work, but why was she here? And she provided no explanation, either.”

“We’ll need to ask her about it,” Jeonghan yawns, “first thing we do tomorrow morning, we go and ask around for her. She needs to have known something. No rich English person randomly comes to New York, that too in the middle of the summer, if they don’t have some other objective.”

“She could be on holiday,” Jihoon offers, “or she could have been visiting family.”

“Whatever it is, we need to find out,” Jeonghan gives another yawn, this time much longer, “I’m going to get some sleep. Make sure you don’t stay up the whole night, yeah?”

“Yeah, boss.” Jihoon grumbles, then walks out of the station as soon as Jeonghan starts snoring. His house is not far from the station which means he has enough ime to go back in the morning, and still be on time for work. He just doesn’t like the station all that much, and the prospect of doing a night shift annoys him. 

His room is mostly bare, save for the mountains of books hanging out in every corner. Jihoon hasn’t brought anyone over to his joint, mostly because he hates how unclean it always seems to be, no matter how much time he devotes to cleaning up, and the other reason being that he doesn’t want to lose his fucking job for being a communist sympathiser. 

He shrugs off his clothes, and sits on the threadbare sofa in his pajamas, thinking of the party. Rich people always seemed to have the world in their hands. Jihoon has seen enough of them. People who did not care about the condition of the workers, who did not care about the state of the world, only existed to serve their own interests. He thinks of the people he saw in Boston, the men who were paraded through the city just because of their beliefs, and he knows he should be doing a lot more to hide from the administration. 

Still, he keeps thinking about the large chandelier. How much did that cost? A thousand dollars? Fifteen hundred dollars? How long would it take for me to save up that much money? Jihoon does the math in his head, and holds his breath at the sheer amount of time it would take for him to save up that much money. And the carpets? Plush Persian and Indian rugs that looked too beautiful to be kept underfoot. Jihoon knows that in another household, they would have been the centre of attention, the piece around which the whole sitting room would have been decorated around, but they seem content to shove it underfoot, allowing a man to bleed out on it without so much as a single care. Jihoon opens a book, and starts reading. 

Capital and labour relate to each other here like money and commodity; the former is the general form of wealth, the other only the substance destined for immediate consumption. Capital’s ceaseless striving towards the general form of wealth drives labour beyond the limits of its natural paltriness, and thus creates the material elements for the development of the rich individuality which is as all-sided in its production as in its consumption, and whose labour also therefore appears no longer as labour, but as the full development of activity itself, in which natural necessity in its direct form has disappeared; because natural need has been replaced by historically produced need. This is why capital is productive; i.e. an essential relation for the development of the social productive forces. It ceases to exist as such only where the development of these productive forces themselves encounters its barrier in capital itself.

He doesn’t want to sympathise. Not with Choi Seungcheol, not with the whole host of rich people, privileged fucks who don’t give a shit about him and his class, and least of all with that woman. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think about the whole Madison Avenue palatial house, nor about the murder. But he knows what he thinks about the woman. 

God, the woman. 

Lee Jihoon is a sane man. He’s impressively in possession of his own faculties, and he’s never once so much as looked at a woman, not since he had a singular fling in university. But when he thinks of her, and those dark, haunted eyes, flickering under the chandelier lights, Jihoon’s pants start getting tighter, and he has a particular itch underneath his collar that makes Jihoon annoyed and makes him feel widely out of his depth. What had Jeonghan said about her? The youngest daughter to the chairman of Barclay’s bank. Jihoon doesn’t believe him, but he does wish that he had the particular ease to find out the truth of Jeonghan’s statement, without working too hard for it. 

She’s a strange woman, Jihoon thinks, as he drifts off to sleep, who looks like that while coming face-to-face with a body?

—

She cannot sleep. 

Every time she closes her eyes, she can see Bratton’s dead body, eyes lifeless and glassy, strewn out at an odd angle on the floor of the sitting room. One moment she’s actually quite happy that he’s died, left her without the need to marry him and fuck him and produce his babies, but the very next moment, she thinks of his lifeless body, and realises she’s become one of the worst people on earth, feeling something close to gratitude about a man who has died. He’s dead. 

If she died in this unfamiliar city, her father would have to make the trip to New York in order to release her body and take it to their ancestral burial grounds. She does not know if her father will make the trip at all. Her brother and her sister would, and they would weep bitter tears at her grave while her lifeless body was being laid to rest. 

Dear brother, 

By the time this letter reaches you, I do not know what would have become of me. New York is a fickle city, more so to the recently arrived, to the immigrants. They keep talking of the American Dream, here, there, everywhere, but from what I can see, the American Dream does not exist. It has been laid to rest the moment their Founding Fathers came to the conclusion that all men were not made equal.

All men are not equal here, brother. 

Charles Bratton is dead. 

I know you’ve hated him since the day he came to our house for the first time, and I’ve hated him too, did not like the way he stood for nothing, was nothing. He was nothing without the influence of his father, and we hated him for it, for we knew our father to be a cruel man, and saw everyone through the same lens as we did our own. This is not to say that my feelings towards Bratton have changed, or that I am a changed woman and I love my father despite his…shortcomings, but that I am thinking of circumstances. Mine, yours, and everyone else’s. We are born unequal and we remain unequal till the moment we die, and I have always hated it. Bratton’s death has merely put that feeling of mine in sharp relief, and I do not know how to navigate the aftermath of this death, in a strange city, with strange people that I do not know. I don’t know if they are on my side, or if they’re plotting against me. Cousin Cheol does nothing, and his wife is fine, but I do not understand them. They are all too—American for my tastes, speaking in grandiose terms that I know will never come true. 

What makes men unequal? What makes man and woman so diametrically opposed to each other that throughout time and space, over civilisations, they remain bitter enemies? I do not know. As Engels has said, the first class antagonism appearing in history coincides with the development of the antagonism of man and wife in monogamy, and the first class oppression with that of the female by the male sex. I am of a similar opinion. We need to remove the family unit from our thoughts of the perfect society, for a family has been based on nothing but the perpetual victimisation of women, throughout history, irrespective of class and creed. No man is born equal in this world, but I dream of a world where men and women work side by side in order to become truly free. 

If you think that I am rambling, please discard this letter. For I find myself in a distressing state of mind, whereby I no longer wish to continue living here. Not in New York. In the first place, coming here was a punishment, a penance forced upon me by our father, and I no longer wish to continue this. I shall go back to London as soon as possible. Our father will oppose this, but I have claims to the Choi family home that even he cannot refute. I am not stupid, nor am I soft; I am a grown woman who is capable of making her own decisions and living her life in the way she sees most fit. 

With love, 

Your youngest. 

—

When Jihoon comes into the station the following morning, he’s greeted with Jeonghan, brandishing the morning edition of The New York Times at him. He raises both eyebrows, and checks his watch. Nine in the morning. Too early for this bullshit. Still, he decides to humor the other man, just for a little while, and he asks, “what is it?”

“Read for yourself.” and there is the picture of the Madison Avenue house splashed across the front page, with the words HOUSE OF HORRORS in a faux-gothic font that hurts his eyes the longer he looks at it. Jihoon shakes his head, sighs, “and? What do we have to do about this?”

“The captain got a call from the superintendent.” Jeonghan shakes his cup of coffee at him, “they’re pressuring him to hand this case over to the Bureau of Investigation. Says that this is the murder of a diplomat, so the Bureau should be handling this.”

“Did Charles Bratton come here on business for the War Office?” Jihoon asks. 

“From what the patrol cops told us, no; we need to go to his hotel room first thing after this, but there’s been no indication from our friends on the other side of the pond that the man was here on any official business. Most likely, he was here for a holiday.”

“And look where that got him.” Jihoon laughs, “but if he was here for a holiday, then the Bureau does not need to involve itself in our matters. If we find out that he was murdered for his work, then we hand over the investigation to the Bureau. Before that, there is no need for anything, I do not think so.”

“Good man,” Jeonghan claps him on the shoulders, and Jihoon has to hide a wince, “let’s go to get the man’s belongings as soon as we can, yeah?”

“Where was he living?”

“The Plaza.”

Jihoon whistles, “rich people, huh?”

Jeonghan laughs, “and he didn’t even earn that much money to be staying at the Plaza of all places. Makes you think a little less of him, right?”

—

The Plaza Hotel staff are, as always, very courteous. Jihoon hates this fake obsequiousness, it makes him want to shove them to the wall and ask them for their unfiltered honesty, but the men and women are unfalteringly polite, showing them up to Charles Bratton’s room as soon as the three of them (Jeonghan had brought along a police photographer) produce their identification cards. 

The room is a mess, clothes strewn about, ties hanging on the dresser, and Jihoon finds himself rolling his eyes. Jeonghan gestures to Vernon, the photographer, to take pictures of the whole scene, and pretty soon, Jihoon finds himself preoccupied with the personal effects of Charles Bratton. His gloved hands tap every surface, trying to find a hidden compartment in the suitcase, hoping to find a clue, but they all come up short. There is nothing. 

“Why do you think he was in such a hurry?” Jeonghan asks, surveying the mess of the room, “this looks less like a man got dressed in here, and more like there was a small hurricane that ripped through the room. But why? One would expect him to be a little more careful in how he presented himself, but this is nervousness. This is not getting dressed for a party, this is trying to impress someone.”

“You mean there was someone at the party he wanted to impress?” Jihoon asks, “amongst the guests?”

“Or could be amongst the household,” the man shrugs, “I have been here long enough to know that relationships in the upper classes are complicated. He could have been courting someone married, for all we know.”

“We need to ask them.”

—

She wakes up late the following morning, dreaming of dead men and glassy eyes under bright lights. Susan is there as she washes up at the washbasin, holding a towel out for her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, miss,” Susan says, as she slips into a proper dress, “the men from last night are here to talk to you, ma’am.”

“Just me?” she asks, even as the smile slips from her mouth, “first thing in the morning?”

Susan nods, “they said it’s important to talk to you, miss.”

“Fine enough,” she sighs, “well, I suppose I shall have to wear something a bit less bright, but that’s fine.”

Looking through her clothes takes less than a minute, and she’s acutely aware of the minute hand ticking by on the clock. She doesn’t want to keep the people waiting, but they were here at ten in the morning. And she had only managed to get to sleep at four in the morning, tossing and turning all night before some semblance of sleep managed to catch her just as the sun rose over the horizon. 

She settles on a skirt made out of a cheap rough cotton, with a shirt and a pair of gloves to match. The skirt was made by Lucy during the war, when they were all forced into farming their allotments, and she had made an attempt to dye the skirt fabric a pretty red, using beets. Where she got that recipe for a homemade dye from, it was never known. But the skirt had resisted all attempts at being dyed, and remained an ugly drab brown, with splotches of red where Lucy’s stubborn self had submerged it in dye for a bit too long. She had liked it enough to take it off of a despairing Lucy, and refused to listen to the complaints of everyone back home. Even now, as she slips into the dress, she feels calm, comforted, almost as though she can feel Lucy’s comforting presence just behind her. For a moment, she allows herself to think that if she steps out of this room, she’s going to find Mrs Wilson holding a tray of tea for her to take her breakfast with, and down the stairs, she’s going to see Chelton and his genial smile, waiting patiently for her. It’s all a stupid dream, of course, but who said girls were not allowed to dream?

When she descends the stairs, it’s not Chelton’s smile that waits for her at the end, it’s Cheol’s wife, who gives her a once-over, before asking, in a strained voice, “Are you going to wear that to meet the policemen?”

“Yes, of course, there is nothing wrong with it, I hope?” she asks, with no intention of changing out of her clothing, “are they talking to Cheol inside?”

“Yes, they’re in the smaller sitting room, the one reserved for family,” Ray says, voice clipped, “why on earth did Bratton have to go and get himself killed on the floor of our sitting room? This is all gone to the dogs.”

“I’m sure he had no choice in the matter," she says, smiling, and leaves the woman at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. For something or someone? She needs to go to the smaller sitting room. 

For all its name as the small sitting room, it’s no less ostentatious. There is a chandelier, though much smaller than the one in the larger sitting room, and there is another one of the expensive Indian carpets that stretch on all four corners of the room. She knocks on the door, and Cheol looks up, expectant, and he looks largely relieved to see her there. She raises both eyebrows. What’s wrong with him? Why does he look like that? 

“Cousin!” Cheol stands up, holding his arms open, “they’ve been waiting for you!”

She turns her attention to the two men sitting on two separate, high-backed chairs, and comes face to face with two men whose expressions tell her nothing. Their eyes move over her as soon as she comes into view, less like a person and more like a piece of furniture. The taller of the two is dressed like a man about town, with his long overcoat made out of a soft suede, entirely unsuited for the atmosphere of New York. His shirt is a light cream, and it’s half untucked, giving him the impression of a wild pirate, just returned from swashbuckling his way through an enemy galleon. She doesn’t pay attention to his face, because his face will show no emotion, she knows it. Even his eyes give her no information at all, and she’s left wondering if they have already come to a conclusion. It was inevitable, of course. There were too many people of the New York High Society in the party, it felt inevitable that the blame would have to go towards the random Englishwoman who had arrived the previous morning, disgraced and thrown out of her household.

She walks into the room, and comes eye-to-eye with the other man. Dressed in a military overcoat and a cheaply made suit, he looks different from all the men she’s ever seen; he looks more like her friends and colleagues and comrades back home, who have looked at her with love in their eyes and shining appreciation for everything she did. Sweet men, sweet women. Poor men, poor women. Born into poverty with no way to lift themselves out of it, poverty so entrenched they instinctively rose on their feet whenever she entered a room, because that is what they have been taught. She misses them, Seokmin and Sakura and Mingyu, and she wishes she had written them a letter. No doubt Chelton would inform them all of her leaving, but she does wish she had left them something of her own. And now, she was about to be held for a murder in a different country, all across the ocean, and she felt, well and truly alone. The man has no expression on his face either, but his eyes are brimming with things even she doesn’t know or realise, things that she doesn’t want to realise. Maybe it is lust or maybe it is anger, and maybe it is disgust, disgust for being forced to look at a woman who has been thrown out of her household and who commits a murder, just to be rid of a beau. 

Wait, I did not kill Charles Bratton. 

She lets Cheol lead her to the sofa, her hand in his, and she takes a seat, still dazed and confused, but has to get her bearings in order within two seconds as the men settle into their chairs, and she can see the taller man open up a notebook, and prepare himself to ask her questions. The other one doesn’t do anything, just observes her. For now, no doubt. 

“Miss y/n,” the tall man says, “my name is Yoon Jeonghan, and this here is my partner, Lee Jihoon. We are here to ask you some questions regarding the death of Charles Bratton, in this house, yesterday. Is this clear?”

She nods. Yoon Jeonghan? Do I know someone named Yoon Jeonghan? I definitely don’t know anyone named Lee Jihoon. Or do I?

As Yoon Jeonghan gets his bearings under her piercing gaze—she knows her gaze is unsettling for even the members of Parliament, and Yoon Jeonghan is nothing but a police detective—she thinks of all the pamphlets they used to get delivered at the party office, even during the war, the ones with writings from people all over the world, obscure pamphlets, with thoughts and ideals that made sense to them, but not much to anyone else. She knows she’s heard that name somewhere, just not—

How to improve the working class in America. L. Jihoon. 

She sits up straighter. There you go. 

“Clear,” she says, a smile fixed on her mouth, a lifetime of finishing school lessons coming in clutch to save her right at this moment, “what else do you need to know?”

Cheol has long since left the room, and  Jeonghan looks slightly discomfited by this turn of events, “if you could give us a little introduction, that would be helpful.”

“I feel obliged to let you know that I have been called to the bar at Gray’s Inn, London,” she says, and looking at the blank expressions on their faces, feels the need to explain herself further, “I mean that I am a trained barrister in the United Kingdom.”

“And?” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. 

“She means that she can argue her case in a court of law, Jeonghan,” the other man, Lee Jihoon, says, “and I do think it’s got something to do about the fact that she’s currently being interviewed by two police detectives. Even the most well-adjusted of all people would be nervous.”

“And yet, you’re not,” Yoon Jeonghan smiles at her, revealing rows of sharp teeth that remind her of a picture she had seen in the newspaper during the war; a great white, washed up onto a beach somewhere, dead. Its teeth were the only thing intact about it. 

“I am not,” she replies, “my name is y/n, and I have been in New York for a combined total of seventy-two hours. I worked as a barrister and essayist in London, and I do not think I have anything more interesting in my life.”

“Barrister?” Jeonghan cocks his head, “what did you do during the war?”

“Volunteered as a VAD nurse, as they would not allow me to approach an Inn of the Court,” she replies, wincing only slightly at the memory of that rejection, “I served in long-term recovery hospitals in the English countryside.”

“Very well,” Jeonghan writes it all down in his notebook, and then he drops the bomb, “how did you know Charles Bratton?”

“Charles Bratton was an acquaintance of my brother, and we were introduced before the war,” she says, the rehearsed version of the truth seemingly heavy in her throat, “there is nothing more to it. If he had thought there was something else there—it would have been mere delusion, nothing else.”

“Clearly,” Jihoon coughs, and Jeonghan holds up a note, “this is a telegram from your father to Lord Bratton, and it was forwarded to his son. We found it in his hotel room.”

She takes the piece of paper, carefully ensconced in a paper envelope, and looks at the two men, “this means nothing.”

“This means that Charles Bratton was intent on marrying you, miss.”

She laughs, “he was intent on doing a lot of things, and he’s now a frozen dead body. I doubt his intentions to marry me have anything to do with his murder.”

“On the contrary, madam, it might have a lot to do with his murder,” Jeonghan smiles again, and it’s that same predatory smile he’s given her a few minutes ago, “young man chooses to pay court to the daughter of Barclay’s chairman, and ends up dead a few days later. You don’t think that is a good enough coincidence?”

“I think it is a coincidence,” she smiles back, “no one else knew about his thoughts regarding me, and this is not the nineteenth century. I do not need a man to ask my father to pay court to me.”

“So, you’re denying that he was going to pay court to you?”

“I don’t deny that,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “I just don’t think that it is very important to the investigation. He wanted to marry me, I did not wish to marry him. End of story.”

“Not yet, madam,” Jeonghan grins at her, standing up, “we shall remain in contact. Goodbye.”

She scowls as he turns his back to her, and there’s muffled laughter from her side. She frowns. Lee Jihoon is laughing at her scowl, hand obscuring his face, like he’s no stranger to people pulling faces at Jeonghan when his back is turned towards them. She doesn’t say anything, just schools her face into its normal expression as Jeonghan turns back to glare at the two of them, like he’s a disgruntled schoolmaster observing naughty children. He doesn’t say anything, which she’s happy for, but he does drag Lee Jihoon by the sleeves, out into the foyer, where the two of them are no doubt going to engage in subterfuge of a high degree. She stares at their retreating backs as they walk out of the room and towards the foyer. Before she can stop herself, she has walked up to the door of the foyer, pressing her ears to the door. Eavesdropping is wrong, she tells herself, but I need to know. 

“What did you think?” she can hear Jihoon say. Even through the thick wood, the timbre of his voice is unmistakable, “I don’t think she knows a whole lot about the murder. Pursuing her as a suspect makes no sense.”

“Nothing makes sense in the initial stages of a murder investigation,” Jeonghan says, “besides, you read the telegram. He was excited to marry her. And she sounds like a—like a—”

“Like a frigid bitch?” Jihoon finishes Jeonghan’s words for him, “but being frigid and cold to the prospect of marrying Charles Bratton is hardly an admission of guilt. She might have just been annoyed by the idea that she would have to marry him.”

“Why?” Jeonghan argues, “he was in the British War office, his father is a lord, and her father had agreed to the whole thing. Seems like she did not have any reason to hate the match.”

“She did, though. You saw the way she reacted when presented with the telegram.”

“Yes, she hated it so much that she decided to remove him from her life once and for all,” Jeonghan snorts, “again, not the first time I’ve seen this. You would be surprised to see the number of women who decide to do away with their fiances just because they hate the idea of getting married to someone.”

“Yes, but again, not an admission of guilt. And even so, the man was shot. Do you really think she has any experience in shooting?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” Jeonghan announces, “you need to go and find out who shot the gun. I’m still betting it was her.”

There’s another shuffle of feet, and someone, presumably Jeonghan, walks out of the house, and she can hear Jihoon sigh. She opens the door, and points a finger at him, “are you seriously considering me to be a suspect?”

Jihoon gives a massive start when she opens the door, and while in any other situation, she would have found the sight of him jumping half a foot into the air massively amusing, her current predicament is an impediment towards being mirthful at all, “were you listening in? Madam, I’m  going to have to tell you, that listening in on a police conversation is—”

“How to improve the working class in America, by L. Jihoon,” she says, and his face pales, “the L. Jihoon is your name, I think?”

“How on earth did you get that essay?”

“We in England take pride in being widely read,” she shrugs, a self-satisfied smirk on her face, “your essay was very well-received at the British Communist Party meetings, Lee Jihoon.”

“Look,” he sighs, pinching his brows, “what do you need me to do? I cannot remove your name as a person of interest. Jeonghan is convinced you are massively involved, and if I start telling him to get rid of your name from the investigation, he’s going to know something is afoot.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” she scoffs, “I want to help you solve the case.”

Jihoon stares at her, then begins laughing. 

“Why?”

“I just find the idea of a layman trying to convince the police to let them in on the investigation while they’re a person of interest,” Jihoon wheezes, “no way.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s going to be a massive conflict of interest!” he exclaims, “and no, I don’t want you here.”

She crosses her arms, “You have no idea who Charles was, do you?”

He looks at her, puzzled, “what?”

“I mean to say, you have no idea who he was. Which is why you’re so confused in this investigation. And since his father is the War Secretary, no doubt you’re under massive pressure to finish this case as quickly as possible,” she steps a little bit closer, “I knew who he was, even if I hated him. So I can help.”

“And in return?”

“You help me clear my name,” she shrugs, “I had a nightmare that I killed him, when I did not. I need to not feel guilty about turning down the most annoying man I have ever met.”

Jihoon looks torn between wanting to run out of the house, or smack her upside the head, but after a tense moment, he sighs, “fine. You can help. But only when I ask you for it. And if you’re innocent, then you’re going to be proven innocent. No need to blackmail a police officer for it.”

She doesn’t say anything. 

“Be ready here at five tomorrow,” Jihoon orders, “we’re going to find out some things.”

He leaves, and she lights a cigarette. I need to get some work done. 

—

Jihoon wants to kill himself. 

He was so sure that there were no copies left of that blasted magazine in the three years that he’s been on the force, but it turns out that some imbecile had mailed a copy to the Communist Party of Great Britain, and now he had a woman on his hands. A woman who was apparently, hell-bent on clearing her name, and was now the proverbial albatross around his neck. 

Jihoon wants to get wasted, but there’s not a drop of legal alcohol to be found in this country, apparently. 

He goes to the chief medical examiner in the afternoon, and waits an hour before the man deigns to see him. With the rise of underground alcohol businesses in the city, murders have seen a steady uptick, and Jihoon wishes they had given him an easier case to close than the murder of fucking Charles Bratton. He hates it. 

“Derringer .22,” Hong Joshua, the medical examiner, tells him in a soft tone, “probably one of a million in the country right now. This is a dead end.”

“So, I’m back to where I began,” Jihoon sighs, taking the report from his hand, “he died of a gunshot wound?”

“Right to his heart,” Joshua points to the place in the report, “he was shot at a distance, but the person who did it, must have been a crack shot. So someone with prior military experience, maybe?”

“Choi Seungcheol was exempted from conscription in 1916, on account of his shipping business being important to the country,” Jihoon murmurs, flipping the pages open, “someone else in that party must have had some experience shooting.”

“Most people in this city have little to no experience shooting,” Joshua replies, “other than the mafia, I doubt most women in this city have ever seen a gun in their lives. And you said that the only other man in this party was Choi Seungcheol?”

“Yes, all of the others were women.” Jihoon ticks the names off his hand, “the Lady Paxton, Miss Bertha Aldrin, Miss Mildred Ramsden, Miss Francine Wellesley. And Choi’s cousin, recently arrived from England.”

“Miss y/n?” Hong Joshua raises an eyebrow, “the famous suffragette?”

“You know her?” His shock is genuine, “I did not think people would know who she was.”

“Most people do not follow the antics of Emmeline Pankhurst,” Joshua looks amused, “she was detained with members of the WSPU on a couple occasions, from what I can remember. The whole thing made the papers, too. I cannot imagine her father was too pleased about the whole thing.”

“WSPU, huh?” Jihoon is noting everything down, “I need to read on this, hold on.”

Back at the station, he waits for Jeonghan to make an appearance, and while he’s waiting, reads up on all her exploits while in England as a member of the WSPU. Law degree from the University of London. Part of the WSPU since her university days. Emmeline Pankhurst called her a ‘valuable addition to the cause,” and many other occasions in which she’s been in the papers. Is this why her father arranged a match with Charles Bratton? 

Jihoon is contemplating going back to the house to ask her about all this, when Jeonghan walks into the station, triumphant smile on his face, and slaps down a paper cutting on his desk, “look at this.”

Jihoon takes a look. It's news from a year ago, but it’s already yellowing. He holds it up to the light, London lady wins the grand prize for shooting grouse. He looks at the paper, and then at Jeonghan, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s her,” Jeonghan points to the report, “it’s her winning the prize for shooting.”

“And? It still doesn’t mean anything,” Jihoon sighs, “this could be completely unrelated.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Jeonghan says, snatching the paper from him, “I went to visit Lady Paxton at her home this afternoon. She told me that there was news of a marriage being arranged between y/n and Bratton, and that she had told the entire gathering that she would kill him if he tried to marry her.” he gives him a winning smile. 

“Hyperbole,” Jihoon sighs. 

“And then I found this cutting from the archives of The Times in the library,” Jeonghan has apparently never heard no for an answer, because he doubles down on his misassumption, “it’s her. I have no doubt about it.”

“Maybe you should do some actual police work, then decide if she’s the killer,” Jihoon rolls his eyes, standing up, “I’m going out.”

“What for?”

“Investigating her,” he announces, walking out of the station. 

—

Xu Minghao is, of course, an enigma. Jihoon has never been able to hold more than two conversations with the man, but the man exists, and he’s an enigma in underground circles. Once a lead organiser, he had gone underground when the Palmer Raids took place. He was also the man who told Jihoon to go into the police, just to have a man on the inside. Jihoon has wasted three years of his life on the words of this man, and a dream. 

Which is why it’s a surprise to see Xu Minghao show up outside of his house in the evening. Jihoon raises no eyebrows, he already knows why this man is here. Probably to talk about the organisation, and give me some more headaches. He wants to be a part of the organisation, he really does. He knows where Minghao is coming from, it’s just that he hates the subterfuge some days. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me to come inside?” Minghao says, leaning against the doorframe. Jihoon says nothing, just opens the door to his apartment, and lets the man inside. Minghao is a tall man, lithe and wiry, and he almost fills up the air in the room. He takes a seat on a sofa, and asks Jihoon, “have you given any thought to the proposition?”

“The proposition?” Jihoon has to recall for a minute to remember, and then it comes back to him. The position. Teaching at a college. “I don’t think people are going to be listening to me.”

“Look, it’s not the college thing,” Minghao stretches on the sofa, “I don’t think the atmosphere here is very conducive.”

“For?” 

“For any kind of alternative political thought,”  Minghao produces a paper bag from inside his pocket, “I know you like drinking tea during these autumn months.”

Jihoon takes the proffered tea, and doesn’t say anything. He knows why Minghao is telling him all this. The man had sent him a letter for a teaching position at Boston three months ago, and Jihoon has been dawdling over it for the past three months. 

“Thank you,” Jihoon says, “but I don’t think I can do anything about the teaching position.”

“New case?”

Jihoon nods, “the murder on the house in Madison Avenue.”

“All over the news, it was, yes,” Minghao thinks for a minute, “wait, isn’t y/n related to Choi Seungcheol?”

Jihoon thinks that he has died and gone to hell. Why is her name being brought up again? “You know her?” he asks, in his best attempt at remaining nonchalant. 

“She’s written some of the greatest essays in the last years, trying to defend Marxism in the eyes of the larger public,” Minghao reaches into the recesses of Jihoon’s desk and brings out a pamphlet, “this was published only last month. Grassroots Campaigning for Effective Marxist Reforms. This was a big thing in British circles, you know.”

“No, I don’t,” Jihoon snaps, watching as Minghao lights a cigarette, “I’ve been busy trying to survive in the fucking police force, Minghao.”

“Well, you should have known,” Minghao lets out a cloud of smoke, utterly unbothered by Jihoon’s plight, “you should have known that she’s one of the most-well known suffragettes in her country.”

“Does it matter?” Jihoon grumbles, slightly morose, “she’s already a person of interest.”

“Person of interest?” Minghao sits up straighter, and Jihoon knows he’s fucked up. He should not have told Minghao that she’s a part of the investigation, but now it’s too late to do anything about it, so he settles for staring at him, “not that it’s of any consequence.”

“Of course it is of some consequence!” Minghao yells, standing up, “you do  realise that she’s made enough enemies who would like to frame her for this murder?”

“Frame her?” Jihoon blinks at the man, “why would anyone frame her?”

“You ask yourself,” Minghao stands up, “and look, I’m going to leave right now. The country is going to be a lot of trouble for people like us, so I think I’m going to go somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else? Where?” Jihoon asks, but he already knows, “what about your parents?”

“My parents don’t really care about what I’m doing, as long as I’m safe and sound while doing it,” Minghao shrugs, “my parents want to go back to China.”

“China? They came here to get away from their landlord, and now they want to go back to China?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Minghao says, “my father’s saved up enough money to start a shop in Beijing. My mother hates the fact that she’s being persecuted here as well, and she wants to go back to her home country.”

“But China—” Jihoon wants to say that China has not been kind to your family, so why now?

“I don’t want them to go to China either, you idiot,” Minghao sighs, “I’m going to take my parents to Singapore or Taiwan. Somewhere where they can create their own life, without thinking about the landlords and the oppressive measures taken against them. My parents are in their sixties, Jihoon. I doubt they’re going to see a Marxist revolution in their lifetimes, and I’m trying my best to make the rest of their lives as comfortable as possible.”

Jihoon nods. He knows that feeling, the desire to have your family be as comfortable as they could be, despite living in a society that hated them, but he doesn’t know why Minghao would leave behind a party that he has worked so hard to build. He’s feeling angry now, the anger rising up slowly within him, even as Minghao continues to speak. 

“You’re an American Citizen, Jihoon,” Minghao looks as though he understands why Jihoon looks like that, “your parents came here at the turn of the century, and they were legalised long before there was any talk of war in the first place. My parents were not so lucky. I need to help them before I can even think of the movement.”

“I gave up my life for the movement!” Jihoon yells at Minghao, “I went and took a job at the worst possible department, and I did it just to be close to the movement! And you can’t even do this?”

“I refuse to be a part of a society that cannot allow alternative opinions out in the public,” Minghao sighs, “I don’t blame you, Jihoon. My parents are not in a position to live a proper life here, but if they were, I would have had the same opinions as you.”

“Fine, then.” Jihoon snaps, “go away. I don’t want to listen to your opinions.”

“Keep an eye out for her, Jihoon,” Minghao stops at the door, looking sadly at the man, “if my instincts are correct, she’s being hunted by a group of people who are going after her precisely because she’s a socialist.”

With that, he leaves, and Jihoon is left there with his own thoughts. He’s thinking about the woman, with her bright eyes, and he’s thinking about Minghao. Minghao is not wrong, he realises. He would have done the same thing if it were up to him to make a decision. 

Her everything is coming back to her, as usual.

He thinks about the flippant way in which she had talked about Charles Bratton’s death, as though he mattered nothing to her in the end. He doesn’t blame her. 

“Her father had written to me,” Choi Seungcheol says, “he was pretty intent on getting her married off to Charles Bratton, but she refused to do it.”

Jeonghan leans forward, eyes flashing, “and did she say anything about the marriage? To you?”

“No, not to me, but I knew that she hated the idea of getting married.” Jihoon notes it down in his diary, she hated the idea of marriage. Who didn’t? 

“Anything else you remember about her?”

Choi Seungcheol thinks back to it, “well, she did have some alcohol that night, so I doubt she was in her right mind, but she did tell me that she would kill him. 

“Metaphorically, of course,” Jihoon interjects before Jeonghan can latch onto this information, “metaphorically, right?”

Seungcheol’s expression becomes guilty, “well, I don’t know about now, but she’s never really been the sort to make empty threats.”

“How?”

“When we were younger, and I was visiting my cousins, one time I tore open her sister’s skirt, and she told me she would do worse to me.” Seungcheol looks conflicted, torn between wanting to say this about her, and wanting to keep quiet about a family matter, “and two nights later, I found all my clothes were cut into ribbons. I had to borrow clothes from Brother John for the rest of the trip. I never went near her for the rest of the month that we were there.”

Before Jeonghan can say anything, Jihoon jumps into the conversation, “and when was this?”

“When we were ten, so it would be in 1900,” Seungcheol shrugs, “she’s refused to get married until she wants to, which means that her father has been despairing over getting her married off during and after the war.”

“She’s thirty years old?” Jeonghan notes something down, “and still unmarried?”

“That’s all I know,” Seungcheol says, “but she’s not a bad person. She’s just not interested in getting married now.”

Jeonghan sits back with a self-satisfied smirk, and just at that moment, there’s a knock on the door. Jihoon stands up, as do the others, and she enters the room, dressed in a skirt that has evidently seen better days, with a plain shirt and an even plainer pair of gloves. Is this how she dresses usually? From the lack of surprise on Seungcheol’s face, it seemed as though it was true. 

He really doesn't want to be attracted to her, but when she had cornered him in the foyer, effectively twisting his arm to make him comply, Jihoon had only been consumed with the thought of kissing her. I’m a monster. She would make the most exquisite noises, Jihoon knows. He would hoist her up by her thighs, press her against the wall,and put his mouth on her neck—

He sits up, hand reaching for the nearest piece of paper. For his sake, Jihoon hopes it is the Bible. 

It is not. Instead, it is her essay, Grassroots Campaigning for Effective Marxist Reforms. Jihoon groans, throwing his arm over his head. Even coincidence had chosen to mock him today. Still, he takes a deep breath, and begins reading. 

—

She wants to know. 

Who is it that killed Charles Bratton? Cheol doesn’t say anything, and neither does his wife, so she takes it upon herself to find out. At first, she makes a list of the people who were there, and thinks about all of them. All the guests who were invited, apart from her. Lady Paxton, Miss Bertha Aldrin, Miss Mildred Ramsden, Miss Francine Wellesley. She makes notes, detailed notes, and pins them to her headboard, making her room look increasingly like the lair of a deranged detective, than that of a normal person. Am I a normal person?

Susan comes in with a cup of tea at nine in the evening, along with a small cold dinner, when it’s evident that she will miss the proper dinner, and stops in her tracks as she looks at the carnage. At least, she thinks it’s carnage. Susan must think of it as something else. 

“Miss?” she asks, standing at the doorway, “do you need anything, miss?”

“No, not really,” she ushers her in, “Susan, I need you to tell me about everything that happened last evening.”

“Last evening?” the girl looks puzzled, “the party?”

“Yes, the party! I doubt the power going out like that twice was anything but a coincidence, so I need to know,” she sets the girl down on a chair, “what do you remember about the party?”

“Miss,” Susan looks fearful, “I don’t think the housekeeper will like it very much if I tell you things like that.”

“The housekeeper would like it if I were to be hanged for murder, then?” she raises an eyebrow, ignoring the gasp that comes out of Susan’s mouth, “oh come on, Susan, you know as well as I do that they’re thinking that I murdered the man.”

“Well, miss, did you?”

“I wish I did,” she laughs, “if I had murder the man, I would be feeling a lot less guilt right now.”

That seems to satisfy the girl, and she leans forward, “well, I heard the butler, Mr Carson, talking to one of the servants that came along with the people last night, miss. The butler was angry, but I didn’t think much of it.”

“The butler knew about this?” she asks, making a note of it on the nearest scrap of paper, “who else did you see?”

“No one else, but I can ask Emma for more help.” Susan says, eyes lighting up, “she was supposed to be assigned to Lady Paxton, but the woman suddenly brought in her own pair of servants, so she was left to trail behind them for the whole evening.”

“Her own servants?” she raises an eyebrow, “people don’t normally do that, do they?”

“No, you’re right, miss,” Susan affirms her suspicions, “people don’t do that. I’m going to go get Emma for you!”

With Susan gone, she forces herself to think. No one would bring their own servants to a house party, not in the middle of New York. This is not a garden party in the middle of nowhere, with no people for company. This is in the corner of Madison Avenue, in a city that has trouble sleeping for a full four hours, even. There was no need to bring personal servants, and yet, Lady Paxton did. She brought in a manservant of her own, which left Emma, the maid, without a job for the evening. 

She lights a cigarette, and Susan opens the door, bringing in a maid after her. She looks at the new girl, with her mop of black hair, looking shyly at her feet, and asks, “what’s your name?”

“Emma, m’lady,” the girl says, “Susan told me you had something to ask of me, m’lady.”

“Just call me Miss, calling me my lady would be very time-consuming for you, I think,” she says, motioning for Emma to take a seat. When the girl refuses, Susan leans over and whispers something into her ear, and Emma nods, before taking up a position on the ottoman sofa. 

“Now,” she begins, as soon as Emma is sitting down, “what do you know about Lady Paxton and her servants?”

Emma looks confused, but Susan finishes for her, “Miss is asking about the servants Lady Paxton brought with her last night.”

“That’s what I am asking about,” she nods, “I heard that you were supposed to wait on Lady Paxton, but she brought in servants of her own?”

“She did do that, yeah,” Emma looks crestfallen, “I kept telling the butler, Mr Carson, that I was supp’sed to wait on her, but he told me she had brought in her own servants, so I should stay out of it like a good servant.”

“And what kind of people were these servants?” she asks, holding up a notebook, prepared to take notes, “did you see them?”

“One of them was called Crakehall, I think,” Emma pauses for a moment, “I don’t know the other person’s name, but that man, Crakehall, he was the one who was talking to Mr Carson. I didn’t hear much of what they talked about, but after they talked, Mr Carson came and told me I didn’t need to wait on Lady Paxton.”

“Any chance the butler will be willing to talk to me?” she asks, but from the looks on both of the girls’ faces, he will not be willing to be forthcoming with information at all. 

“This is good, though,” she smiles, patting her arm, “here’s a dollar for each of your troubles.” She offers the money to both Susan and Emma, who look at the money like they’ve never been offered so much money. 

“Thank, m’lady,” Emma smiles, “I’m going to ask the girls to come and tell you if they have something to tell you!” 

The two of them depart, with grateful smiles, and she grins at their retreating backs. Now, every scullery maid will be racking their brains to come and tell me whatever gossip they have, just for a reward. She doesn’t mind spending the money, because she doesn’t spend money at all, but if spending money gives her some leverage over whatever the fuck they’re bringing against her, she doesn’t care. 

But why did Lady Paxton bring in her own servants? And both of them were male servants too, which was highly unusual. People of her class usually had lady maids to help them with their clothing, but she brought in male servants. For what? To help her dress? Highly unusual. 

She knocks heavily on Cheol’s door, yelling, “Cheol! Come out right now!”

The man opens the door, looking decidedly rumpled, “what the hell, dear cousin? What happened that you needed to bring the whole house down at this time in the night?”

“Was Lady Paxton supposed to stay here for the night?” she asks, without any preamble, “tell me right now!”

“Lady Paxton?” Cheol thinks back to it, “wait, no, she wasn’t supposed to stay the night, was she?”

“No, she wasn’t,” comes the voice of Ray, who’s dressed in a flimsy nightgown, “she was supposed to go back home after the party ended. Just like everyone else.”

“Great, thank you!” she smiles at Cheol, clapping him on the shoulders, “good night!”

“Good night? What the hell are you doing?” Cheol shouts after her, but she’s already disappeared back into her room. Lady Paxton was supposed to go back home, but why did she have servants to wait on her hand and foot?

 Like most upper-society hosts, Cheol and Ray would have provided for proper maids for their higher-ranking guests, and Emma was supposed to be waiting on Lady Paxton that night. This did not make any sense to her. Why would she do that? And how the hell did anyone turn the lights off?

She notes it all down in her notebook. Lady Paxton was suspicious. Very suspicious. She would need to observe the electricity lines in the house the following morning. 

—

Jihoon wakes up the next morning, with the most painful erection he’s had in years. He’d had a dream about her last night, which involved her being next to him in his bed, doing a series of things that would have earned him a deserved slap across the face from every woman in the city. Why was she naked in my dream? And how the hell have my powers of imagination grown so big? He has to go meet her this afternoon, and he knows that he needs to show up, otherwise he’s going to have to deal with her barreling down into the station herself. He doesn’t know her at all, but from what he’s seen of her, she’s one of those people who doesn’t let anything go unless their work is done. 

He’s supposed to interview Francine Wellesley this morning, but he doesn’t want to. He really doesn’t want to. He wants to spend his whole day talking to her, looking at her, making love to her (if she allows him to). Jihoon feels as though he’s going insane, because she’s a person of interest. If Jeonghan had his way, he would have her hanged at Rikers the following morning. Why he was hell-bent on getting her for the murder of Bratton, Jihoon doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything, save for the fact that he is desperately attracted to her, and he should not be. 

When he walks into the station at nine, Jeonghan is already there, flicking through papers of his own, “what do you say you go back to the house today?”

“The house?” Jihoon practically squeaks out, “wh—why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Jeonghan’s expression is practically wolfish, “we need to find out more evidence that points towards her being the murderer.”

Jihoon sighs. He’s not in a mood to deal with Jeonghan’s irrational belief that she’s the one who murdered Charles Bratton, “why do you want to force the notion that she’s the killer?”

“Because,” Jeonghan shrugs, “there’s all evidence that points towards her being the killer.”

“Because Lady Paxton told you that she had threatened to kill him?” Jihoon scoffs, “man, I have threatened to kill people on multiple occasions before, but that doesn’t make me a killer, does it?”

“Not unless you have won a prize in shooting in the last five years,” Jeonghan replies. 

“I was the best marksman in my battalion while in the War,” Jihoon snaps, “so, for heaven’s sake, stop being annoying about this!”

“And why are you this hellbent on defending her?” Jeonghan yells, “there’s no need for you to defend her this much! There’s nothing that tells us that she’s not the killer!”

“And there is nothing that tells us that she is!” he yells back. Jihoon is mildly aware of the gazes that are pointed at them, “she refused to marry Charles Bratton, and that’s not a crime. She’s not a murderer just because she threatened to kill him? If anything, it makes her a victim!”

“I don’t care about uppity princesses and their so-called problems in life,” Jeonghan seethes, “she’s the youngest daughter of Barclay’s chairman. Do you know how much money that is?”

Jihoon pinches his brow, “all the money in Fort Knox does not secure a woman’s standing in life. Her father arranged a match with Charles Bratton, and she did not wish to marry him. Sure, she’s won a championship in shooting, but you do realise that shooting is not an uncommon hobby? In fact, save Francine Wellesley, all the people in there were from England, where shooting is a far more common hobby for people than in America? Are you hell-bent on making her the villain because you don’t want to do police work, or because you’re just scared that your first impression is going to be false?”

Jeonghan blinks at him for a moment, and just as Jihoon turns to go out of the room, he catches Jihoon by the sleeves, “wait.” Jeonghan says, his voice sounding oddly light, “everyone except Francine Wellesley was from England?”

Jihoon nods, rattling off what he’s learnt from the people themselves, “Miss Bertha Aldrin was born and brought up in Scotland, where grouse shooting is practically a national sport amongst the rich. At the house of Miss Mildred Ramsden, we saw a framed picture of her with a rifle, and I read the inscription.”

“What did the inscription say?” Jeonghan frowns at him, “you didn’t tell me this before.”

“Because you were determined to make her out to be the killer, when she probably was one of many people in that house who knew how to shoot a gun.” Jihoon sighs, “the inscription said that the photo was taken at the Puckeridge Hunt three years ago. Mildred Ramsden has experience going on fox hunts. That woman is not the only one who had any experience shooting.”

“And Lady Paxton?” Jeonghan asks him, eyes narrowed, “what about Lady Paxton?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, “you were the one who went to her house, not me. How would I know?”

Jeonghan pulls on his gloves, “then I should go and ask Miss Wellesley, on what she knows about the whole affair. You should go to the house and find out what you can.”

“Do I really have to?” Jihoon asks, “I don’t want to. Send Vernon.”

“Vernon is a photographer, not a detective,” Jeonghan laughs, “go to the house, Jihoon.”

—

She’s been waiting for the detective to make an appearance all day. Susan had been confused as to why she was so excited to get dressed up for no apparent appointments, “miss,” she asked, “are you going to the stores?”

She looks up at Susan, and then looks at her lap, where she’s dressed in some of her best clothes, “I’m a suspect in the murder of Charles Bratton, Susan. I’m not in a position to go to the stores right now.”

“But, you’re dressed like—” Susan points at her clothing, “you look so beautiful, miss.”

“I like dressing up from time to time, Susan,” she smiles, “what’s the time?”

“Five minutes to five, miss.”

She jumps up, making the girl skitter back a pace, “I’ll be going to the sitting room, Susan!”

The sitting room has been changed in the two days since the party. The carpet has been changed, and she settles down on a sofa with a book of British Law in her hands, trying to focus on the changes in statutes that established the Ground Game Act of 1880. 

“Mr Lee Jihoon is here to see you, miss.” The voice of Carson, the butler, pulls her from her reverie. She stands up, nodding to allow him inside. 

Lee Jihoon enters the room with his hat in his hands, dressed in the same heavy military overcoat that she had seen him wear the last time he was in this house. Was it yesterday? His eyes are the same piercing brown, but today they seem to be tempered with a side of something entirely foreign to her. She cannot place the feeling she knows is in that man. Is it hatred? Disgust? Does he think I’m a murderer?

—

Jihoon is dead. He’s dead and he’s in hell, because this woman is determined to dress up like she’s on a personal mission to kill him. Lee Jihoon, thirty years old. Cause of death: erotic misadventures. 

He catches her eyes as soon as he steps into the room, and Jihoon cannot look away fast enough. He doesn’t want to look away, but he has to. She looks like she’s come out of his dreams, dressed in a black skirt that came down to her knees, paired with a shirt that closed at her throat with a row of mother-of-pearl buttons that made Jihoon want to rip out every single hair from his scalp. Her hair is cut short to her neck, and Jihoon doesn't want to think about her exposed neck. He really does not. 

“Detective Lee,” she says, and Jihoon almost jumps out of his own skin. How is it that she sounds so—beautiful? Her voice is low and melodic, but with a touch of realism in it that saves it from going over to the realm of the erotic. It does not help Jihoon in the least, unfortunately. “Are you partial to any specific preparation of tea?”

Tea? Jihoon blinks at her, then gathers his wits in a split second, “uh, I prefer Earl Gray, if you would be so kind.”

“Earl Gray?” she smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, “I do have to say that I am also partial to a cup of Earl Gray myself, but it’s not a popular choice in the Americas, it seems.”

“Maybe,” Jihoon smiles, watching her as she pours him a cup of tea. I don’t even like tea that much, and I’ve never had Earl Gray. Still, he takes an obligatory sip as she passes it on to him, and it’s a good tea, given how little of a reference scale Jihoon already has, but he settles down in his chair, and looks at her, “did you have something you needed to talk to me about?”

“Not me,” she takes a slow sip of her drink, “but I was hoping that you would be the one to tell me something, Detective Lee.”

He raises an eyebrow, “surely you don’t want me to give up privileged information for you.”

“I’m not that stupid.” she rolls her eyes, “I know what rules and regulations the police need to abide by. No, I’m not asking you to give me confidential information that only you know. I’m proposing an exchange of information. I am going to give you some information, and you are going to give me information of similar weight.”

Jihoon stares at her. He hadn’t expected her to negotiate like this, but he suspects all lawyers are the same, even if they’re being held on suspicion for murder. Still, he takes his time to finish the tea, acutely aware of her eyes still on him. She’s not taken her eyes off of him for a single moment, not since he’s stepped into the room. An unsettling woman, he thinks to himself, but outwardly says nothing about it, instead, “what information do you have to give me?”

She stands up, and so does Jihoon, remembering in some weird recess of his mind that it was probably rude of him to sit while a woman was standing. She takes a few looks around the corridors, where the sounds of the servants have mostly faded away, “the servants are supposed to be taking lunch, so you need to come with me.”

“Come with you?” He’s not proud of how his voice squeaks, “to where?”

Instead of responding to his very normal question, she grabs a hold of his arm and starts dragging him out of the room, “all my research is there in my room, so that’s where we’re going. Don’t worry, Cheol is out on business, and Ray is gone too, presumably shopping.” She shrugs, now climbing the stairs at rapid speed, “and all the servants in this house think I’m weird and unnerving, so they don’t bother me at all. And the maid who’s been assigned to me, Susan, she’s a sweetheart, and will not spread rumors, so don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Jihoon yelps, as she shoves him into a room, “what on earth are you doing, madam! Are you insane—”

He stops. He’s staring at the room, and seriously, what did he hope to find? A normal room, with carefully curated pieces of furniture that speaks more to the user’s knowledge of the upper class society than it does about themselves? Papers lying about on every available surface, with notes written in small, cramped black letters. Jihoon looks around the room, and the sheer number of books stumps him. Every available surface is filled with books. There are books on politics, economics, literature, philosophy, British Law, Common Law; if he could look further, he would have found a book on mathematics, probably. Or linguistics. He doesn’t put it past her. 

“Are you seriously considering this, madam?” he makes an odd noise, watching her as she busies herself with closing the door, trying to peek outside and see if anyone had seen him come into her room, “madam, you cannot have me in here! This is going to raise so many rumours about you!”

She closes the door, and glares at him, “the only person who is in any sort of danger from rumours, is you, detective. And don’t worry, I’m good at lying.”

“And how is this supposed to help your case?” Jihoon snaps, “you just told me you were good at lying!”

“Oh, for fuc—never mind,” she rolls her eyes, scrambling across the room and halfway onto her bed to catch a piece of paper, “so, here’s what I found out about Lady Paxton.”

“Lady Paxton?” Jihoon doesn’t want to give his suspicion of the woman away, but he’s excited to see that she’s on the same page as him, “what about her?”

“The maids told me that the girl who was supposed to wait on her the night of the party, was suddenly told not to do her job, because she had brought in her own servants,” she reads from the piece of paper, “and they did hear Carson, the butler, talking to the people she had brought in. One of them was called Crakehall, but you should confirm that with the butler.”

“That is very good,” Jihoon writes it down in his notebook, tamping down on the desire to ask her for the paper (he’s trying not to make her uncomfortable), “anything else?”

“The power went out twice that evening,” she reads out again, “we’ll need to examine the electricity lines, but the power lines in this house were one of the first in the city. I’ve heard Cheol’s father brag about a hundred times while he visited us in London. It was all he could talk about.”

“So the house was modernised much before the rest of the city?”

“I know, right? The things you can do when you have the money to do it,” she gives a small scoff, “anyway, someone must have had to tamper with the lines, otherwise there would not have been two consecutive power outages in that evening.”

Jihoon blurts it out before he can stop himself, “and do you know if Lady Paxton is a shooter?”

“Lady Paxton?” her brows furrow, “why do you ask about Lady Paxton?”

“We’re asking if you know anything about her.”

“Cheol does not like her, which could mean nothing, because Cheol is not a very trusting man,” she replies, “Lady Paxton’s brother was the owner of the largest cotton mill in the north of England.”

“The largest cotton mill in the north of England?” Jihoon raises his eyebrows, “Derrick Millibrand?”

“His factory stopped producing cotton four years ago after workers protested about its dismal working conditions. Derrick Millibrand lost all his money, and I don’t know what happened after that.”

Jihoon scrunches up his eyes. He’s trying to think about any news that would have come out of England for a man named Derrick Millibrand. It takes him a moment, but he remembers it, Factory Owner dies of self-inflicted wound. Minghao had brought a cutting from a London newspaper to show during a meeting, he had referred to it as ‘a righteous win for the workers’. 

“He killed himself because of it,” he answers her question, and looks at her, “Derrick Millibrand. He killed himself months after his factory shut down, because he had too many debts and no way to pay them. He put a bullet in his brain.”

“Good riddance,” she mutters, voice dark, “the conditions under which he forced his workers to work were abysmal. I think I wrote an article on his factory, specifically.”

“His factory?” 

“Yes, I remember visiting it just after the war ended,” she replies, rummaging around for something, and brings out a huge manila folder, “here it is!”

She hands Jihoon a small, worn-looking pamphlet, with small words printed on it, An Inquiry into Labour Violations at the Millibrand Factory in Manchester. It even has her name under it, as the sole author of the article. Jihoon takes the pamphlet from her, slipping it into his pocket, “and you didn’t know who Lady Paxton was?”

“I’m not in the business of knowing every landed gentry in England, detective,” she rolls her eyes at him, “and I don’t really care who Lady Paxton is, or who her family was. But it was nice to have some company who did not judge my choice of politics or my choice of words.”

“You spent time with her at the party?” he asks, almost not being able to believe that she would do that. 

“Yes, I did, and then Cheol made me go wait in his office to talk about how my father had arranged a match with Charles Bratton, and before I could yell at him, the power went out, not once, but twice.” she sighs, “this is not new information.”

“What else happened?” Jihoon is taking rapid notes in his notebook now, “during the power outage?”

She thinks for a moment, “I thought I heard someone. Could have been a rat too, but rats don’t shuffle, they scurry. Maybe it was Ray, going back to Cheol’s office in the middle of the power outage.”

“You heard someone?”

“Yes, they were shuffling towards Cheol’s office, but they paused and went beyond the office door to, hold on,” she frowns, looking at him, “wait, what killed Bratton?”

“A derringer .22.” Jihoon reads out from his notes, “and you have some experience in shooting, as Lady Paxton has told us. We came to find out that all of the people in that party had some experience with shooting a gun, not just you. With the exception of Francine Wellesley, of course.”

“A derringer? I don’t have a pistol in my possessions, and Cheol owns a registered Colt, not a derringer.” She raises an eyebrow, “I cannot shoot a pistol. I’m only good at shooting a rifle.”

Jihoon stares at her, “I wasn’t aware that there was a difference. I mean, of course, there’s a difference, but I know how to shoot both weapons, and it’s never given me any trouble.”

“You speak of your experience from the War, detective,” she sighs, “my brother could shoot both weapons too, but I can shoot only one. I’ve only been taught how to shoot the rifle, and that too specifically lightweight rifles for grouse hunting. A derringer pistol in my hand would do nothing but be a very dangerous piece of decoration, I’m afraid.”

“So you don’t know how to shoot a pistol?”

“Most women who don’t have specialised training are the same. They learn how to shoot one thing, and stick with it for the rest of their lives.”

“You did tell people that you were going to kill him.”

She groans, slapping a hand to her face, “and I’ve only threatened him twice. I’ve threatened my own father more times than I have threatened him, and despite all those threats, he’s still alive and kicking. Have the police never heard of a hyperbole?”

Jihoon laughs, because he’s told the same thing to Jeonghan this morning. When he stops, he can see that she’s looking at him, with a strange expression on her face, “what?”

“Laughter makes you look much better than you already do.” she replies, tone entirely matter-of-fact, “anyway, I propose we go and talk to the butler, before someone finds us in here and starts accusing you of taking advantage of me.”

Jihoon makes a face, “and where can we find the butler?”

She’s about to give him an answer, when there’s a sound from outside the room, and she goes very, very, still. Jihoon is confused, “what happened?”

“Shut up!” she whispers, pressing her hand to his mouth, “there’s someone at the door.”

“M’lady?” a girlish voice says from outside the door, “I’ve brought your evening cup of tea, m’lady!”

“Oh, dear, it’s Susan,” she whispers, hand still on his mouth, and looks around the room, “you need to hide. Preferably right now.”

Jihoon pushes her hand off of his mouth, “and what happens when the maid comes in and sees you here, having apparently abandoned your guest?”

“Right, uh,” she pauses for a moment, “we need to—” there is another knock on the door, and she swears under her breath, before making a decision. 

“Here we go.”

—

She had not really expected, or even planned for this to happen. Getting the detective to her room was the only way she could have a private conversation with him, without the interference of all the servants in the house, and she had intended for it to be only that. 

And now he’s pressed up against her chest, while they both try to ignore the fact that there is a girl in the room right now, trying to find out where the hell the two of them are. 

“Miss?” she can hear Susan call out, “miss?”

“Madam,” Jihoon whispers, his breath caressing her cheeks, “maybe we should not be in this position—”

“Shut the fuck up, for the love of god,” she swears under her breath, “if Susan finds out, we’re both going to be in trouble.”

Jihoon shuts up, and she presses closer to him behind the screen, as Susan starts walking closer and closer to the two of them. She’s not an idiot. Being caught in such close quarters with a man would not be nice for either of them, but right now, she cannot bring herself to care very much. On one hand, she has a policeman (and about a hundred others) who is gunning to have her hanged at Rikers in a fortnight, and on the other, she has a father who’s done nothing good for her for her entire life. She should have gone to live with her brother and sister when he had told her to pack up her stuff and leave. Why didn’t I do that? Oh right, I was too proud for it. No help needed, so I’m just going to die here in disgrace, thank you. 

And there is detective Lee, who is, against all odds, the only person to have some belief in her innocence. She’d never thought that she would be grateful for someone like him, but now that it came to it, she really was. She liked the fact that he still believed that she was innocent to a degree, when most other people did not. Hell, she had expected Cheol to be the one to stand up for her, not this man. She’s barely even known him for two days. 

“Is she gone?” He whispers, and she’s suddenly very aware of the fact that his hands are holding her waist, in a gesture that would have seemed intimate in any other setting, but in this one, it feels downright filthy. She’s not a stranger to—physical affection, having been held by her brother and her sister and her cousins all throughout her life, but this feels like something else. She cannot breathe. 

“Madam,” Jihoon whispers, as Susan walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her, “maybe you should put some distance between us, right now.”

“Distance?” she whispers back, “are you telling me you’re affected by this position, detective Lee?”

He looks at her, eyes wide and fearful, with long lashes, and she makes what is possibly the stupidest decision in her entire life. She inclines her head forward, and when he doesn’t move, she closes the distance between them, kissing him. 

—

Jihoon’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s gone to heaven, because she’s kissing him in her bedroom right now and it is taking him all of his self-control to not give into his baser desires but she is so soft and smells so good and he’s just a man. 

Jihoon is not an idiot. He’s had enough experience kissing people, or rather, heard enough accounts of people kissing people, that he has a vague, nebulous idea of what he’s supposed to do. She’s probably just as inexperienced as he is, and when he places his hands on her waist and pulls her in closer to him, she doesn’t resist, but just puts her arms around his neck and makes a sort of noise that makes his trousers disgustingly uncomfortable. She’s soft, and pliable, and warm, and welcoming, and Jihoon is going to go insane. 

“You should go talk to Carson,” she breathes, breaking apart from him, “he’s going to be busy preparing for dinner soon enough, so you need to go see him right now.”

“I don’t much care about Carson the butler right now,” he groans, and she laughs, but allows him to push her back towards her bed and kiss her over and over anyway. Jihoon knows he has to leave, and he knows he’s breaking possibly every single rule in the police rulebook, but he also just doesn’t give a fuck. 

“I’m going to go talk to Carson,” he grumbles, after a sufficient and yet highly short amount of time has passed, “don’t come after me, I can go talk to him on my own.” Jihoon makes his way out of the room, determined to flag down a maid or whoever, and find out what exactly happened that evening. 

—

In all her life, she’s never done such a stupid thing. 

She’s thirty, for heaven’s sake. Most people her age were not entirely unfamiliar with carnal desires or romantic ones, but she has a distinct feeling that even her most libertinous of friends would have found her current conduct scandalous. 

She doesn’t know if Jihoon is as inexperienced as she is, but he seems to like the kiss well enough, settling his warm and heavy hand on her waist, just enough for her to feel its presence through the layers she was wearing now. She needs to tell him that he has to find Carson to get the information out of him, as one does, but his mouth is soft and his moans reverberate in her ears, and she thinks she would like to have him within arm’s reach for the rest of her life. 

“You should go talk to Carson,” she heaves, catching her breath, “he’s going to be busy with dinner preparations soon enough, so you need to go see him right now.”

“I don’t much care about Carson the butler right now,” he groans in her ear, and she laughs, but he takes this moment to push her back towards her bed. For a very irrational moment, she is seized with the desire to drag him into her bed and have her way with him. His mouth moves away from hers, only to leave trails of desperate, hungry kisses along her jawline, and she wants to die. 

“I’m going to go talk to Carson,” he grumbles, after the moment has passed, “don’t come after me, I can go talk to him on my own.” 

With this, detective Lee Jihoon is out of her room and hopefully her life, and even though she knows she’s never going to see him after this investigation is over and her name is cleared, she cannot help but desire for a little bit more. His legs were in between hers, and for a bizarre second, she had wanted him so badly. It doesn’t matter. He will not want me after this. 

—

Jihoon walks into the station that evening feeling very conflicted. He’s half in a mood to confess his sins to the captain or Jeonghan, but neither of them are there when he makes an appearance, and he has to pass his time trying to figure out who would have a grudge against her, a grudge big enough to frame her for murder. 

Jihoon busies himself with clippings of newspapers, when a headline catches his eye, War Secretary to rethink contracts. He picks it up, looks through it, and is in the process of making detailed notes, when Jeonghan comes barreling into the station, calling out for him, “Jihoon! You will not believe what Francine Wellesley told me!”

“That Bratton’s father was going to cancel a deal made with Lady Paxton’s husband, and that her brother died of suicide after his workers walked out on him?”

Jeonghan stops in his tracks, “wait, how did you know about the second one? Mildred Ramsden told me that her brother was in Cambridge when it happened, and they were kind of primary witnesses to whatever that had gone on in that factory.”

“I know it because I just met the woman who inspired the workers to organise and leave that factory,” Jihoon hands the pamphlet to Jeonghan, who reads it, engrossed, “you can imagine why Lady Paxton seems to have a grudge against her. She was the one who told you that Miss y/n was good at shooting, when in fact all she can shoot is a lightweight grousing rifle. A pistol is entirely different from the weapon she is used to. And Lady Paxton knew her well enough to be able to misguide us on this matter.”

“Miss y/n may not be able to shoot a pistol,” Jeonghan sets the pamphlet down on the desk, “but you know who can shoot a pistol? That too, well enough to be recruited by the Army?”

“Who?”

Jeonghan sets down another paper cutting, this time from before the war, Local Girl wins Army shooting championship. Jihoon takes a look at the attached picture with the news piece, “Wait, this is Lady Paxton, isn’t it?”

“Francine Wellesley gave this cutting to me, courtesy of her father, who has a hobby of keeping record of interesting news articles. He produced a volume in front of me, and took this cutting out. This was from the months leading up to the war, and that is Lady Paxton’s maiden name.”

“So, it was Lady Paxton?”

“Looks like it.”

Jihoon sighs, “she held a grudge against miss y/n for long enough, a grudge deep enough to frame her for murder. I would not like to be kind towards her at all.”

—

Epilogue. 

“Cannot believe you’re leaving us so soon, cousin,” Cheol wipes at his eyes, as she loads her bags in the car, “it’s only been a year since you came to live with us.”

“At least cry convincingly,” she scoffs, “I can hear your sigh of relief to have the entire house to yourself and your wife again.”

Cheol giggles, suddenly boyish, “I assume the news was not received very well?”

She sighs, ‘my father was incandescent, learning that I had refused Bratton’s offer of marriage. I told him in the letter that he had not even proposed to me formally, but you know how he is. He’s been like that.”

“And now you’re about to get married to a Marxist philosopher,” Cheol grins, “I want to see the look on uncle’s face when he realises exactly who it is that his youngest daughter is getting hitched to.”

“I’m not marrying him yet, Cheol.” She rolls her eyes at him, but he just laughs and laughs, “Jihoon’s settling in comfortably at Oxford, which means my brother has already met him.”

“I don’t understand. How did you manage to make a police officer, no, a detective, Lee Jihoon was a detective, leave their job and become a full-time academic?”

“The power of my feminine wiles.”

“You have none. Now, tell.”

She laughs, but it is a freeing sort of laughter, with none of the underlying bitterness that seemed to have ensconced her life for as long as she could remember. Jihoon had left the police force to pursue a higher degree at Oxford, and she had obtained a marriage license that would allow him to become a naturalised citizen. His parents had no objection to them marrying, and her father could go throw himself into hellfire for all she cared about. Her siblings like him well enough, and when she had written to Chelton about their relationship and engagement, he had wished her all the best and said that the entire household, even Lucy, would all be grateful to be able to bless them when they got married. She was content. 

“When you came here a year ago, cousin,” Cheol laughs, “ you used to have the most angry expression on your face, at all times. Sometimes I worried if it was a chronic condition.”

“And now?” She asks. 

“You’re still angry, although I suppose the prospect of being able to open your own lawyer’s offices is what puts a smile on your face at all times.” Cheol grins, holding up his hand, “no, don’t even tell me about the other things that might be a contributor to your good mood. I do not wish to hear it.”

“I shall not tell you, you big buffoon,” she laughs, stepping into the car, “I’m going to be off now.”

Cheol gives her a hug, tears in his eyes, “safe journeys, cousin. And make sure you keep that scholar of yours in line. I don’t want to hear that he’s made you cry.”

“No one can make me cry, I am my own person, after all,” she smiles, lightly kissing his cheek, “goodbye, cousin.”

The car rattles off down the road, making its way to the dock, and she thinks about the events of the past year. Things have been the best that they could be, for now, and she wishes it would remain the same, unchanging, for the rest of their lives. 

“Make it faster,” she tells the driver, “I have a fiance to get back to.”

“In New York?”

“Across the ocean.”

—

But if you are honest, you have bigger problems at hand now. Because before you can even blink, the line in front of you is already much longer, everyone asking you for a drink. You'd love to be able to split in half at the moment. It's always like this, and yet you are never ready for it. Rush hour is every halftime and end of the match for you.

You wave your hand to your colleague so she can collect the money, quietly praying for the beer cooler to work faster. There's not much for Dae to do when everyone is waiting for a drink — your specialty. And as much as you love being at the drinks duty, you regret not switching with her every time this happens.

Handing out one beer after another, you listen to the chatters about today's game. There are lot of praises passed around, creating a smile on your face. You might have not seen most of the game, but you know the guys killed it tonight again. How could they not with their talents finally being put to use with their new coach? You might be biased, but you do think they'll take it far this year.

"Sunshine, can you also pour me one when you have time?" You look up to meet your dad's eyes, nodding.

"You'll have to wait," you shrug, softly pointing your head at the line. He nods, waving you off like he doesn't care at all, reminding you to take your time. You wish more people would be like this. At least your family if no one else. But your uncle is a prime example of the behavior your hate when you are already busy. He pushes past the line, handing you his empty pint. "Yeah, yeah," you mumble, placing it down and focusing on the people that came before him.

You're not sure how much time passes, but you sit down again eventually. Plopping down with a heavy sigh, you exchange a glance with Dae. She gives you a sympathetic smile, glancing at your dad who has the same one as he leans against the wall with his beer in hands. "It's going to calm down again now. They won't all be coming at the same time."

You hum back, stretching your hands above your head. "How did it go? Did you finally figure out the rotation?"

"Pretty much," he nods. "I liked how they played today so if it continues like this, we got the perfect core five."

"That's good," your smile grows. "If nothing, then the points show they've gotten better since you started training them."

He rolls his eyes but you see the smile tugging on his lips. You like seeing your dad like this. He's always been happy no matter what category he was training, loving it when he could see the enjoyment on his player's eyes, but there is something different about watching him coach a team full of adults who could really take it far if they want to.

"Let's not assume how the rest of the season will go." You peek over when you hear Jake's voice, a smile on his face. "Who says I won't replace Seungkwan and give us the well deserved win."

"Not if you keep avoiding working out," your dad reminds him and Jake just shakes his head, mounting to you that he is lying.

You chuckle, "right, right."

He steps forward, still smiling as he opens his wallet. "Could you give me two? Promised Heeseung I'll buy tonight."

"He doesn't stay for stretching after trainings but he stays to get drunk?" You shake your head as you take the cash from him. "You should keep an eye on that."

"At least he stays to drink with us and team bond. Nishimura doesn't even look me in the eyes before disappearing."

"I think he is intimidated by you, coach," Jake explains and your dad's eyes widen in the most your dad way you know. He somehow manages to look shocked as well as not surprised at all, offended but also making fun of the situation. You've seen this look a lot. With his eyebrows raised and arms crossed over his chest, he looks exactly the same as whenever you tell him about a dumb date you've been on. The amount of times he's been surprised at something the guys you went out with said or did is not something you could count on both hands. Every time, the conversation ends with the two of you agreeing that guys just need more time to mature.

"By me?" He questions and you laugh as you pour Jake his two beers. "Tell him he'll be running ten extra laps for that." All four of you laugh, including Dae who has far from knowing anything about basketball.

Your dad leaves after a short moment to talk with the rest of the coach staff and some of the players while Jake stays with you, chatting with Dae about their upcoming assignment. You try to listen in but your attention starts drifting elsewhere, the debate about the physics paper they have to submit passing by you completely. Zoning out, you stare at the nearest wall, thinking about anything but the situation around you. For the first time today, you get to turn off and not worry about whether you gave the right change or not.

You are glad Jake and Dae found something in common when you introduced them for the first time. If they didn't, you'd never be able to just shut off like this, worried it would get awkward and would try your hardest to keep the conversation going. But when they met for the first time and found out they share a physic class, all your worries disappeared as you watched them talk about their lessons. Both of them still rely on you sometimes but you'd say they are good friends now.

It's good knowing your friends are getting along.

"I love you so much," Heeseung sings as he comes into your sight, making you snap out of your thoughts. You blink up at him, seeing four more players behind him. The foam on his beer has already fallen off but he doesn't seem to care, taking his drink from Jake with a grin on his face.

"Can I get a better one if I also tell you I love you?" Seungcheol smiles at you and you shake your head, standing up again and getting four pints ready, assuming all of them are here for the same thing.

"You can try," you shrug, a smile tugging in the corner of your lips as well. It only makes his smile grow wider.

"Sure he could," Joshua wraps his arm around his shoulder. "If he wants to die while explaining to his coach why his daughter is suddenly pregnant and needs to leave school."

"Now now," you quickly interrupt him, your eyes widening. "Don't even joke about that."

"Exactly," Seungcheol joins you, shaking the younger man off him. "If I knock anyone up in the near future I'll assume it's your curse and what will you do then? I don't have the time or resources to raise a kid right now."

"At your grown age?" Heeseung pipes from the side, grinning through his drink. Seungcheol ignores his comment but you chuckle.

"And here I was going to give you a tip," he sighs.

"Yeah? What kind?" Dae tilts her head innocently and you have to hold back a laugh, handing all four players their drinks while the eldest pays for them while exchanging a few words with Dae that you can't catch. You think you're glad you don't by the way her ears turn red.

Everyone on the team has always been friendly with you. Whether it's because you sell them alcohol or that your dad is their coach, you have no idea. But it doesn't really matter. As long as they keep being nice to you, then you don't need to know. It still feels a little weird being a part of conversations like these with them as if it was completely normal, but you're trying to get over that. And honestly, with the captain's welcoming smile and kind words — despite his friends joking about him making you pregnant — it's all a lot easier.

You'd say you are pretty close with the team. You are able to hold small talks and they often hang out with you and Dae here after their games. So while you can't say you consider all of them your friends, you aren't strangers either.

Well, expect for one man on the team.

Possibly the only one you've ever wanted to be close with.

It was a year ago, you think. Around the time the previous season started. The team gained a few new players — including Jake and Riki who you'd say you are the closest to out of all of them — and your eyes immediately locked in on one of them.

Kim Mingyu, tall, tanned, and handsome, was impossible not to look at.

It only took one game and you were hooked, unable to look away from him whenever he was on the court and you had some time to watch. His smooth movements, the control he has of the ball, and the incredibly beautiful smile on his face when he scores a point all made you so much more interested.

But you never got to talk to him as you wished you would. Because right after the game ended, you saw him with the only person you didn't want to see him with — Jungkook. Watching the guy you have a silly little crush on laughing with your ex boyfriend might have been the best way to get you to turn around again and reconsider talking to him.

You have no idea what or if Jungkook ever told him anything about you, but with the way Mingyu never even tried to talk to you outside a few hellos and ordering unlike the rest of the team, you think it's safe to assume he doesn't think of you nicely.

You and Jungkook didn't exactly end it on bad terms, you just both had different views on things. All you wanted was to focus on your studies and to do something with yourself, while all he wanted was a family to settle with as soon as possible. At twenty, the idea of turning your life around to make a family with your boyfriend was wild to you. It was simply never supposed to happen. You never spoke badly of him after the breakup but you also never talked to him again, so you have no idea how he and his friends look at you.

It's as if you've manifested them, the two of them coming into your sight of view. Jungkook doesn't come closer but you see him standing in the hall while Mingyu walks over to you. "I'll take two, please." He only meets your eyes briefly before Seokmin tugs him into their conversation. You glance at him a few times as you pour the beers, watching the easy smile on his face. Despite knowing it's not going to happen, you can't help but admire him. He is so handsome, it's unfair to you. How are you supposed to not look at him when he looks like that?

You quote the price to him, just like you've done many times today. Your fingers brush when he hands you the cash and you feel like you're going insane, the nervousness you suddenly feel driving you crazy. As if it wasn't enough, he practically holds your hand in his as he takes the drinks from you. You have to look up at Jungkook to remind yourself this is nothing, that Mingyu thinks who knows what of you and it's only your own delusion making this into something that it's not.

He doesn't stay for any longer, saying his goodbye to the rest of the team and leaving to hang out with your ex. Dae nudges you and you take your eyes off him, offering her a brief smile. It's been like this for a year now, so why do you unconsciously keep hanging onto a thread of hope?

"Sunshine." You nod when you hear your dad's voice, taking his pint from him to pour him his drink. "Thank you. What are you all standing here for?" He nods towards the team, all of them holding their own beer. "Good game today but how do you want to bond the team together if you aren't drinking with us?"

"We were just about to join you, coach," Seungcheol grins. "How could we possibly afford to miss the president's drunk blabbing about our game?" Your dad shakes his head and Seungcheol sends both you and Dae a wave, saying his see you later before leaving with the team to join the coaching staff in their staff room. You're sure they'll be back for another round but for now, as soon as you hand your dad his drink and he leaves as well, you are left alone with Dae and the thoughts of how much you want Mingyu to talk to you.

When your dad told you you'll be home alone on the weekend because he's got away games, you found yourself questioning how far you're willing to go for a stupid crush. You always liked watching sports, but not to the point you'd come out of your way for them. If you were already coming to the game to sell drinks, then you wanted to watch as well. If you were hanging out with your friends and you happened to find a group of people playing street basketball, you'd watch as well. But you never went to watch a game in your free time just because.

Which is also why your dad was so surprised when you asked him to come with instead of enjoying the free house. Still, he wouldn't say no to you, not even if he wanted to.

Humming along to your playlist, you watch the road ahead as your dad drives. He follows Joshua's car, who's taking most of the bench players except for Riki who sits behind you. Your dad's way of taking revenge and trying to intimidate him, you're certain. It seems to be working since he hasn't said a word ever since you picked him up, looking into his phone the entire time. No doubt texting his best friend.

There are two more cars behind yours — Seungcheol's and Mingyu's. You feel bad a little. If you weren't going, they could easily fit into just three cars and everyone would be comfortable. Your dad assured you they were planning on driving four cars either way and there is no need for you to worry but you can't help it.

"Jake's asking if we can stop by the nearest gas station." It's the first time you hear Riki's words since you said hellos and both you and your dad glance at him. You see him swallow his nerves when your dad's eyes find his, unable to hold back your laugh. It's funny to see him so freaked out when you know your dad is the sweetest person you know. Most of the players know it too, you're sure. It's only a matter of time before Riki realizes it too.

"Will we be on time?" You ask, biting back your laugh.

"We should be," you dad nods. "Let the others know as well. If they don't want to come with they can drive straight to the stadium but they better not get lost."

"Yes, coach," Riki nods eagerly and your lips form a straight line, your eyes closed as you do your best not to let the laugh out. Turning your head towards the window, you hide your smile behind your hand. You already know this will be a fun trip.

You all park in a line and Jake immediately rushes out, not bothering to look back once as he heads straight for the bathroom. Riki steps out as well, using the opportunity to breathe properly without your dad near. Shaking your head, you stretch your arms over your head, melting into your seat.

A knock on your window interrupts you and you glance to the side, your eyes widening when you see Mingyu leaning down besides you. Your dad rolls the window down and you want to curse him out for not keeping the barrier between you and him up. "I'm grabbing a coffee, do you want anything, coach?" He asks, his hands bracing the edge of the open window as he looks inside, and you can't help but watch his toned arms.

It's insane how invisible he makes you feel. You become one with the seat, looking down into your lap as your dad refuses his offer. A beat of silence passes and you look up again, finding Mingyu's eyes on you, waiting for your answer. "Oh," you breathe out. The feeling of invisibility disappears instantly. "Could you get me an ice coffee? I'll give you the money, wait."

He shakes his head, straightening his back again. "Don't worry about it," he brushes you off and leaves before you can argue further.

You pick your purse from the floor either way, finding your wallet. "He's not going to accept it," your dad says simply. You meet his eyes, tilting your head slightly. "I've tried before as well. He even bought me lunch one time last year when I was subbing for their assistant coach and he refused to take any money from me. I think he likes treating people."

"I don't want to owe him, though."

"You can give the money to me then and I'll do my best forcing it to him. If I fail, I'll just keep the money and we'll all be happy."

"Listening in on other people's conversation is not a great look, Lee," your dad warns him. Heeseung just smiles in return, copying Mingyu's pose from before and leaning down onto the window.

"Isn't it great when I overhear our opponents tactics, though?"

"You're terrible," you shake your head at him with a laugh.

"Tell me you use your time for better things as well. Like, for example, learning our tactics."

"You know I only do my best, coach," Heeseung assures him. "Which is why we've been singing out lungs out the entire ride." When your dad gives him an annoyed look, he clears his throat, immediately switching the playful vibe to a more serious one. "We'll focus on it for the rest of the drive." After one last look from your dad, he runs away again, mumbling something about starting to get it as he approaches Riki.

You scroll through your playlist, picking the songs for the rest of the ride as you wait. Jake comes back shortly after with a new hat, that you rather not question where he got from, and Mingyu right after him. He hands you your ice coffee and when you try paying him back, he dismisses you just like your dad said he would. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you open the can, thanking him while Riki takes a seat in the back of the car again. You keep your eyes on the older man, your hands wrapped around the cold drink, cooling yourself at least that way when your entire body feels so hot.

You'd like to say you don't think about Mingyu. In fact, you'd love to be able to say thinking about the way he is best friends with your ex made you snap out of it and you weren't looking at him as anything other than one of your dad's players.

But you apparently have no control over your emotions because while your head tells you that's an enough reason for you to give up on the idea of him, your heart does the exact opposite and just keeps thinking about him the entire car ride.

With your music on and free time, it doesn't take much for you to start daydreaming. A certain basketball player who towers over you and has arms the size of your head keeps lingering in your mind, all sorts of scenarios taking over you. If your dad and Riki manage to exchange some words, you don't hear any of them. All you can focus on is how great you know you'd be together if only things were a little different.

Shifting in your seat to make yourself more comfortable, you force yourself out of it, staring at the road ahead instead.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

It's a chaos as soon as you arrive at the stadium. While the guys go find their changing room — which you genuinely hope they'll be able to as the map at the entrance wasn't any helpful — your dad tries to convince the organizer to let him have two assistant coaches. It's not against the rules, you know that, so why is it that the opposite team's coach has so much trouble with letting you in?

"Okay," the organizer sighs. "We'll need to see your coach license and it won't be any problem. I'll talk it over with the Tiger's coach. As you said, the rules state up to maximum of eight extra people accompanying the coach and team members."

"Oh," you breathe out, panicking as you glance between the stranger and your dad. You do not have a coaching license. Why would you? You stopped being involved in this sport back when you were fifteen. Your dad realizes it as well. Deep down he knew trying to let you in on the bench was a bad idea since if anyone wanted to check, they'd know you have no previous experience. Still, he wanted to try in case he could have his little girl beside him during the game.

"To be honest, I think it'll be better if you just do it with Seojin. The two of you work well together and it'd be a chaos if there were three of us. I'll be watching from the audience," you smile, briefly stroking your dad's arm. Looking over at the organizer, you thank him again for trying to hard to make it work for you both.

"If that's what you guys want to do," he nods, pointing towards the audience entrance and telling you to go up the first stair you see. You nod, giving your dad a quick goodbye before disappearing into the hallway.

You need to hurry if you want to grab a good spot in the front. It's still early, forty minutes until the game officially starts, but people are already coming in and you don't want to risk a good spot. Not today when you already came all the way here to watch the team play.

Rushing through the hall, you don't pay attention to where you are going, accidentally bumping shoulders with one of the players. "Shit, sorry," you apologize quickly before glancing up, your eyes slowly trailing up his figure until they settle on the chocolate eyes you know so well.

Mingyu's eyes wander all over your figure as well as he shakes his head softly, assuring you it's okay. Look at where you are coming from and then back at you, he tilts his head in confusion. "Where are going? the court is the other way around."

"Ah. The audience— I'm going to watch from the seats."

He hums and you want to melt into floor beneath your feet. It's embarrassing. In the past year, you haven't talked to him outside of exchanging hellos and grabbing his order. You have no idea how you're supposed to talk to him like this, how to make it seem like you aren't an awkward loser. Even though, honestly, you might be.

A part of you wonders how he sees you. If your interactions today made his opinion on you final and he can now finally say with no trouble that you are weird and he's glad he never spoke to you before.

"Okay," he nods, and you swear you aren't imagining the emptiness of his words. Why even ask in the first place? You raise your head to find him looking at you, his eyes unlike his words the opposite of empty. You frown without properly realizing what you're doing, questioning why he is staring at you. "Your eyes," he points out, "they have a bit of yellow in them."

You blink up at him. Out of all the things you expected him to say, commenting on the color of your eyes was on the bottom of the list. "I…I guess?"

"Didn't you say you'd practice free throws before we finish changing?" Joshua calls as he nears the two of you, the rest of the team right behind him. Mingyu looks at them and takes a step away from you, naturally falling into pace with them and excusing how it's not his fault he couldn't even get on the court yet. You think you see him glance at you one more time before giving the boys his full attention but you're honestly not sure. It could be just your head playing tricks on you.

"Cheer loudly for us, okay?" Jake smiles at you as he passes you and you give him and encouraging nod, wishing them all good luck. The hallway gets empty again and you get back to why you found yourself here in the first place. You need to find good seats.

You sit right above their bench, second line. Most of the first line is already filled and you honestly don't want to be sitting between men your dad's age who have been eyeing you ever since you started wandering around the seats. So, you decide for a seat still close to the players but also comfortable. You'll just have to hope your luck isn't terrible and you won't find yourself squeezed between someone weird after all.

Your dad finds you with his eyes as soon as he orders for Seungcheol to lead the stretching, offering you one of his smiles. You return it, smiling at Seojin, his assistant coach, as well. He's been friends with your dad for as long as you can remember, and it's nice seeing them coach together now. Seojin has always trained the younger kids, teaching them the basics of basketball and how to handle a ball, but ever since the men's team has got a new coach, the entire staff needed an update as well. And from what you know, Seojin has always been on top of your dad's list.

"Is this seat taken?" You look up upon hearing a woman voice, relief washing over you immediately.

"Please, take it." She laughs softly, thanking you as she folds her jacket in her arms and sits down, resting her bag between her legs. She doesn't look much older than you. Twenty four if you had to guess. She is pretty, with her brown hair in a ponytail going down to the middle of her back, matching eyes gazing into yours and an adorable smile. You can imagine how easy it's for her to have guys folding at her feet. Especially if she is into their sports. "Who are you here for?"

"SK Knights," she answers, her eyes trailing the players on the court. "You?"

"Same," you grin, doing the same. "My first away game with them, kinda nervous," you joke and thankfully, she matches your humor, chuckling as she wishes you good luck. "I don't think I've ever seen you on their home games?"

"It's only been a few weeks since I started cheering for them," she explains. "I got interested when I saw them beat my brother's team. He hates them now, obviously."

"Obviously," you nod, unable to hide your smile. It's probably the excitement you feel from knowing you'll be able to talk about the game with someone similar to you and not a fifty year old man staring at your body instead of the game that makes you this giggly. You extend your hand out to her, your name falling off your lips.

"Bora," she shakes your hand with a smile. The two of you watch as Seungcheol controls the free throw drills before she nudges you with her shoulder, bringing your attention back to her. "So which one is it?"

"What do you mean?" You blink up at her.

"Oh come on," a knowing smile spreads on her lips as she eyes you up and down. "Sisters usually aren't that immersed into their brother's games — speaking from experience — so I crossed that option out. And that look in your eyes doesn't look like you're deeply analyzing the forms of the players or anything."

"Oh," you breathe out, glancing back at the court. Have you been looking at Mingyu without noticing? You did watch him and cursed a little under your breathe when he missed the shoot but were you that obvious? You quickly shake your head, getting the thoughts out of your head. There is no reason why you would be looking at him differently, you remind yourself. You have nothing to worry about. "The coach."

"The coach?" She blinks and you can tell she is surprised. "Well, you go girl then," she laughs quietly. "How big of an age gap is that?"

"God no! Not like that!" You interrupt her before her mind can wander further. "He is my dad. That's why I'm here," you finish your thought.

Bora sighs in what you could only classify as relief, "That makes so much more sense."

"And we have thirty years between us so please."

"Some girls are into that," she shrugs. "I couldn't but how am I supposed to know what your range is."

You think about it but don't answer her, your mind only coming up with the five years older player with annoyingly beautiful eyes and perfectly white teeth he shows every time he smiles. That seems like a reasonable difference. The last time your boyfriend was five years older than you it might have not lasted long but who ever said you are one to learn from your mistakes? You'll gladly try again and better if Mingyu lets you.

"Do you have a player you are here for? Or is it just the team in general?"

You watch her eyes flicker to the players, trying to follow her line of sight. But with everyone so close to each other right now, it's hard. "I think it was number twelve that caught my attention at first. But the entire team is great and I genuinely just want to watch a good game."

"Seungkwan?" Your eyes widen, less in a surprise and more in a pure excitement. Just based on what you know about him, you know he'd love her. But then again, who wouldn't? Looking at her, you might fall as well. "You should get his number after the game!" You encourage her. "You can come with me after and I'll introduce you."

"Please," she shakes her head, laughing. "I don't need his number. I'll be happy watching from the side lines and cheering the team on while my brother prays for my and their down fall. And if I were to get anyone's number tonight," she meets your eyes with a soft smile, "It'd be yours."

You shake your head at her as you pull your phone from your pocket, gladly handing it to her. Looking forward to all the games the two of you can watch together from now on, you are happier and happier you decided to join today's game.

The dopamine you feel as soon as the game starts is much bigger than you expected. The starting five is the same as at the last game — Seungcheol as center, Mingyu and Seungkwan as guards, and Jeonghan and Hansol playing forward. It worked last time, and with every inch of your body you hope it does today as well.

They had advantage last time, playing on home land, so if they work it out this time as well it'll mean your dad found the core five. Ever since he started coaching them two months ago, he kept on trying different rotations, trying to learn what worked together and what didn't. You watched him sit over his notes at home late at night sometimes and gave him your two cents when you had something to offer.

You were the one to point out how well Seungkwan plays when he has Hansol on the team with him, how relieved he seems knowing they have a strong defense that allows him to make risky plays. You're glad you did. They seem way more stable now.

You cheer for the team along with the rest of your section, frowning when they lose the ball, and raising your hands in the air when they score a point. It's incredibly loud around you but you don't mind, only focused on the play. Your dad has never been one to argue with referees or yell at his players about what they should do when they are in the zone, and that hasn't changed with the men. It's not your dad's voice that keeps echoing in your ears. But there one — two actually. Seungcheol leads his team on the court, with the help of Mingyu, who isn't scared to call for a ball or suggest a play.

Without having to see his face, you know your dad is proud. You know exactly what kind of look he has because the same one is on your face. There is a weird sense of accomplishment knowing they are doing well.

It's a close match, no one letting the other team get too far ahead. As soon as the gap widens more than they'd like, they pull a new move and turn it around again, leaving the entire audience in chaos. You watch with wide eyes, unable to take your attention off. This has got to be one of the best games you've ever seen. It makes sense why they play in the league now. While you were always a fan thanks to your little crush and one of your closest friends being on the team, it's moments like these that remind you the players aren't just hot but actually talented.

You know Bora feels it too, loud encouragements leaving her lips every time one of the Knights gets the ball. The team work is amazing, their passes perfect and shots clean. You can tell they are in a zone, likely only seeing the ball and the rest of the players on the court.

It's the second quarter that the opponents defense starts to be more aggressive, the referees having to stop the game because of fouls before you can comprehend anything. Luck seems to be on your side through, because every time they foul, it happens to be Mingyu they make contact with. Your smile grows more and more as you watch him take his place at the free throw line, knowing he'll make it without having to look.

If you know anything about him, it's that his cleanest shots are from the free throw line. You've never seen him miss in a game, but it's not only that. You know his stats. 98% success rate in free throws is fucking amazing. Based on the look on the opponent's faces as they take their positions, you know they realize it too.

He isn't missing.

Your section grows quiet as Mingyu dribbles the ball beside his leg briefly, getting the right grip of the ball before holding it in both hands. The ball leaves his fingertips and your eyes follow it eagerly, the loudest cheers leaving your lips when it goes straight in. Glancing at the score board, you high five with Bora when you see the 43:33. They made it to the ten point gap.

You seriously couldn't be prouder.

It's Riki's eyes you find first when the halftime begins. Jake joins him right after, both of them yelling at you how they hope you know they'd play way better if they were on the court before your dad dismisses them. You laugh, watching them get scolded over not knowing when to stop. It's all playful, they know it too, but it still must look heavy to everyone who doesn't know your dad personally. Thankfully, a lot of the people in your section have left when the second quarter ended to go to the toilet or buy drinks.

"You guys seem to be close," Bora nudges your shoulder and you roll your eyes with a scoff. Encouraging her to stand up, you both walk to the railing at the front, leaning forward and looking down at the players.

"We are close in age, it was natural," you explain, smiling at the two youngest

"If it isn't our two biggest fans," Seungcheol comes into view, offering you both a smile. "I'm pretty sure I could only hear your voices throughout the game." You doubt that's true but with the confident grin on his face, he could make you believe a lot. He looks around at his teammates to add to his words before he opens his mouth again, "Shouldn't we know the name of our biggest fan?"

Exactly what you expected. You shake your head at him as Bora introduces herself, praising their game play in the first half. You take the opportunity and scan the court with your eyes until you find what you've been looking at. You meet Mingyu's eyes briefly, smiling at him. A smile appears on his lips in return and it's impossible how weak your heart suddenly feels. Jesus. You need to get a grip.

His eyes don't stay on you for long though, the warm feeling in your chest leaving as soon as it came when he focuses his attention on Heeseung and calls him over so he'd practice passes with him. You're used to this, though. It'd be weirder if he kept his focus on you. You tear your eyes off him when Bora asks you if you want her to get you a drink and shake your head, joining her conversation with Seungcheol and Joshua.

Your eyes trail to number 17 every now and then, but you don't meet his eyes again until the very end of the halftime when you tell them all good luck.

You say your goodbye to Bora at the entrance after the happy win, your grin growing wider when you see her talking with Seungkwan before leaving, praising his game all over again. He seems frustrated, and you just know he'll be thinking about the interaction for a while. When he asks her if she'll be in the stands tomorrow as well, it only confirms everything.

"Let's go, we need to settle in," your dad calls for everyone to gather and they listen. The cars fill shortly after, Jake joining you this time so Riki won't be alone anymore. It's not like he was since you were in the car as well, but honestly, you enjoyed the tension between him and your dad too much to actually provide him some of the support Jake will by sitting in the back with him.

This time, your car leaves first. "We need to rearrange the rooms when we arrive," your dad reminds you and both of the guys peer up from their phones.

"Why?"

"I was booking for twelve, not thirteen. And I know since Seokmin ended up not coming today there is an empty bed, but it'd be uncomfortable having our only girl room with three men."

"Dad, I'm fine—"

You don't get to finish your sentence as he interrupts you. "It's uncomfortable for me."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I'm okay sharing the room with the guys. We are all adults and I know them."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about the most. We should switch our room with yours so she can room with me and Seojin," he suggests, glancing at Jake in the back through the rear view mirror. "Heeseung can go instead of Seokmin and the two of you will take our room."

"No," you stop him immediately. "Dad, I'm not sharing a room with you and Seojin. That'd be uncomfortable for me. Let me room with the guys instead. It's fine."

He hesitates and you can see all kinds of thoughts running through his head as he stares at the road ahead. "Okay," he finally sighs. First win of the night for you. "You can take my room with one of the guys, but I'm not having you stay in a room with three of them."

"Yes, sir," you laugh.

"Shall we room together?" Jake leans forward, holding onto the seat in front of him. You glance back at him, nodding without a second thought.

"Sounds good."

"Wait, does that mean Heeseung and I will be in the room alone or what?" Riki leans forward as well and your dad's grin widens. Oh good god.

"No. Heeseung will sleep in the four people room like I said. The room switch also still stands. Just this time, you'll be the one in the room with us and not my daughter."

You watch as Riki's face gets pale, holding back a laughter. You can practically see the curse on his lips, needing to look away to hold it in. Things may not be working out for Riki, but this is one of the funniest trips you've ever had.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

Despite your dad's stare, Jake helps you carry your bag up to your room. You immediately jump on the closest bed, your arms and legs stretched out. "You wanted to room with me because you knew the room for coach staff would be the biggest one, didn't you?" You prompt yourself up to look at him and he laughs, dropping your bag besides your bed.

"Obviously. What did you expect? That I would want to share a room with three stinky men instead of enjoying my free space? Absolutely not."

You laugh as well, nodding. "Valid point."

"I'll go shower first, okay? I need to get all this sweat off me."

"Sure," you nod. "Go ahead."

"This is also what I love about this room," he says as he stretches his hands above his head, going to check out the bathroom. "I can just shower without waiting for everyone else to get it over with because they love to make things by age order."

"I hope you like using me to your advantage," you shake your head with a smile, taking out your phone from your pocket and looking at messages you missed while you were at the game.

"It's the best!" Jake yells before the bathroom door shuts behind him, the sound of the shower being turned on coming shortly after.

Jake has a towel wrapped around his waist when he comes back, apologies leaving his lips as he rushes to his bag to get a set of fresh clothes. You sigh heavily, ignoring his presence and continuing to scroll on your phone. He is gone again in a second anyway. He doesn't close the bathroom door fully this time, though, wanting you to hear him. "The guys have texted about wanting to go out for drinks. Do you want to come with? It'll be fun."

"Everyone's going?" You ask back and he agrees. Thinking about it for a moment, you go through all the possibilities of how tonight could go.

One, you get awfully drunk and embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

Two, you get awfully drunk and give into Seungcheol's joking and flirt back with him, all of it leading to one big, drunk, mistake.

Three, you get awfully drunk and call your ex just to ask him about what him and his friends think of you so you can know what your chances with Mingyu are.

Four, you get awfully drunk and confess your feelings to Mingyu, who will then turn you down and you'll spend the rest of the night heartbroken, not even wanting to come to the game tomorrow. Things will be weird, he'll talk to you even less than before, your dad will see that something is going on, and you'll have to explain to him what happen and feel embarrassed all over again.

Yeah, you don't think you want to drink tonight.

"I'll pass!" You call back at him. "I don't feel like drinking tonight."

He peers from the bathroom, fully dressed now. "Just come and don't drink then? I'd feel weird leaving you here alone while we are out having fun."

You wave him off. "It's okay. I won't stay here. I wanted to go out and explore the city a bit so you don't have to worry about that," you assure him. "You guys go have fun and I'll see you in the morning. Hopefully I won't be cleaning your puke by then."

"I promise you you won't," he laughs. "If you get bored and change your mind, just call me and I'll tell you where we are so you can come hang out, okay?"

"Okay," you nod.

Standing up from your bed, you reach for new clothes in your bag as well, going to steal the shower for yourself now.

You don't hear Jake leaving the room through your playlist, but when you come out again twenty minutes later, he is nowhere to be seen. You look at the time on your phone, deciding to go out as well and have something for dinner when you see the 7:53. It surprises you how fast time passes, but then again, it was a long game, and even longer settling into your hotel rooms.

It's only the end of March but the cold air has already been replaced. You brought a jacket with yourself in case you'd get cold but you don't think you'll be needing it after all. Walking through the quiet streets, you admire the city slowly. You've always loved exploring new places, so tonight is only looking more and more perfect. There is no rush, no one telling you to stop taking pictures of random stuff and just hurry so you can have dinner already, and you love that about it the most. You're glad you decided not to go for drinks with them tonight.

A part of you feels disappointed, the hope you still have for you and Mingyu lingering and telling you to go so you can get to know him more. But a bigger part of you knows you shouldn't. All your worries earlier were right, and you're not sure how you'd behave if the guys got you drunk. Kim Mingyu is hot when you are sober. You don't want to find out what you think of him when you're wasted.

Snapping a picture of a fountain you pass, you hide your phone in your pocket again when your eyes fall to a small restaurant nearby, the atmosphere pulling you in immediately. The only thing better than amazing food is amazing food with a nice vibe.

Jake and Riki both send you videos from the bar as you have your dinner, making you laugh out loud. One of the servers looks at you weirdly but you do your best not paying it any attention, refusing to let this good night be ruined by anything.

You take a different route on your walk back, checking your phone's map every once in a while just to make sure you aren't going in a completely different direction.

It's when you see an outside basketball court that you stop in your track completely, the urge to go and play growing with each second you're looking at it. It's still far so you can't see if anyone is there or not, but you surely hope there is.

It's been a while since you last played. Sure, there were PE lessons in high school and you'd play sometimes then, but it's been almost ten years since you played properly. You don't regret quitting back then, you still believe it was the right decision. Pushing yourself into doing something that was no longer fun would have only made you hate the sport, and you never wanted that to happen. You prefer this more — the feeling of still caring for the sport and wanting to play at times like these.

The sound of dribbles reaches you before you can see anyone. You debate texting Bora if she's free and doesn't want to come meet you so the two of you could play together, but as soon as your eyes land on the only person occupying the court, you rethink it. It would be fun to play with her and get to know her more, but if you're honest, you are more interested in playing and getting to know the person practicing free throws.

"I thought you guys went out for drinks," you say softly, trying not to scare him by suddenly breaking the silence you are sure he's gotten used to. Despite your attempt, you watch as he flinches when your voice reaches him, the ball changing trajectory and missing the hoop. "Sorry."

"No worries," he mumbles, jogging for the ball again. "They did go. I think Seungcheol said the bar was like five minutes from the hotel." You nod, awkwardly standing on the side as he comes back to the free throw line before locking his eyes with yours. "Wanna play?"

Before you can think it through, you are nodding, wanting nothing more. That's why you came here after all — to see if there was anyone you could play with. You surely didn't expect it'd be a league player but he'll have to do this time.

Mingyu watches you as you rest your jacket on a nearby bench before coming to him. He hands you the ball and steps aside so you can shoot as well. You seem nervous but he doesn't point it out, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. He takes the sight of you in as you stand at the line, trying to get into the same position you've seen him take many times during today's game. Your shirt rides up slightly but it's barely noticeable since a bit of your stomach was already revealed. You're wearing an off-shoulder blue shirt — a different style from the red tank top he saw you in at the game — that you tucked into what he assumes is your bra on one side, your jeans hugging your stomach unlike the baggy bottoms.

Your hair is the only thing still same, the brown locks reaching down your back. It's simple, and yet he can't help but think about how much he loves your outfit. Blue suits you.

The ball leaves your hands but doesn't go as you'd like, missing the hoop. You close your eyes shut in defeat, slowly trailing to pick it up again. "You need more power, Blue. Otherwise it was great."

You look over your shoulder when you pick up the ball, blinking at him confusedly. "Blue?"

"Oh," he breathes out, realizing he let the nickname escape. "That was just—" he hesitates as he takes a place at the free throw line again, extending his hands forward for you to make a pass to him. You do, giving him the ball and slowly coming to his side. "I noticed you wear it a lot, it kind of escaped."

It's you who is breathing out a quiet 'oh' this time, your heart doing weird back flips at the mention of him noticing what you usually wear. It's shocking since you always thought he avoided looking at you as much as he could. "I see."

His eyes find yours again as he takes a step to the left, encouraging you to come closer to him. He dribbles the ball besides him briefly before taking his position, letting you watch him from up close as the ball leaves his fingers again, this time landing in the hoop perfectly. You smile at the sight, unable to hide how you feel as he comes to stand under the hoop, passing you the ball.

You stand with the ball in your hands for a moment, trying to figure out what he's doing. "Come on, Blue. You just saw how it's done. You can do it too if you try. We aren't moving on until you make it in."

You knew you wouldn't need your jacket but now he just confirmed it. There is no way you'll get cold tonight when he makes you feel so hot, your entire body heating up over his words. Come on, Blue. Does he know you are crazy for him? If he did maybe he'd pay more attention to what he says. Playing with you is one thing, but trying to help you like this on top of giving you a nickname? He isn't fair to you at all.

You do your best aligning your arms perfectly, watching the hoop in front of you as the ball leaves your hands. As soon as it does, you know you missed. It felt wrong. Just like you thought, the ball falls short again. Mingyu catches the ball with ease, passing it to you right away. "Are you sure you want to be here all night? I'm not making it in. The hoop is too high."

"You are making it," he shakes his head. "What would your dad say if he saw you whining like this? The hoop is too high? Don't play dumb now." He tilts his head and it's the pretties you've ever seen him. With his dark short hair, a knowing raised brow, a comfortable sweats and a black tank, he is absolutely gorgeous. Maybe your crush on him isn't as little as you've been convincing yourself. You are obsessed. Obsessed with how he watches you right now, how he looks, and how he talks with you.

"I'm not playing dumb," you argue but still listen to him and try to get into position again.

"Then you're not as smart as I always thought you were."

God fucking damn it.

You are in no way Mingyu's strongest soldier, and he just keeps proving you that.

Shooting again, you get a better feeling than before. You miss again, but this time the ball at least hits the hoop. Maybe he is right and you can do this. "What happens when I get it in?" You wonder as he passes you the ball back.

You hold the ball under your arm while he thinks, waiting for his answer. "We move on to a real game. Match for ten points, hm?"

"I'm supposed to try to match a league player?"

"You came here to play, didn't you, Blue?"

You hesitate, averting your eyes from him. "This just seems like an unfair bet for you to jerk your ego," you mumble under your breath, shooting again. This one is terrible and you both know it but he doesn't say anything about it, simply passing you the ball again.

"It gets easier without all the complaining," he points out and you scoff, ignoring him as you try again.

It takes two more bounces off the hoop, but by your third try, the ball makes it in. You cheer loudly when it does, your hands raised in the air in celebration. Mingyu carries a similar proud smile on his face as he picks the ball again and dribbles over to you. "I knew I still got it," you scoff playfully, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

"Of course you did," he shakes his head, the grin never disappearing from his face. "With how great you are, you have no problem playing against me, right?"

A wave of nerves suddenly washes over you, your confidence dropping. You swallow, nodding, "Sure." Your voice comes out a lot quieter than you expected, the uncertainty clear as day.

"I'll give you five points to start, that's fair, isn't it?"

"Eight," you argue immediately and he raises his eyebrow.

"You need eight points difference to beat me?"

"If I need to beat you then I want to start with ten points right away otherwise I have no chance, but if playing for more than five seconds is what we want then eight points will do."

"You'll get seven. I can't underestimate you so much, what if I'd lose?"

"Then I'd need to tell my dad to reconsider your position on the team."

The atmosphere is easy, much more comfortable than you through the two of you would ever able to be. He steps behind the three point line, dribbling the ball around his leg while you watch him, trying your hardest to focus on the ball and not his face. Chasing after him, you do your best guarding the almost head taller man. It doesn't work, obviously, but both of you laugh at your attempts and that makes you feel a lot better than stopping him would.

He easily makes a point in and you rush in to get the ball. He lets you dribble to the three point line without guarding you, slowly walking to you only once you cross it to make your way towards the basket. As soon as he reaches you, you know you don't stand a chance. You knew he was big, but standing against him now, as he guards you so you don't get to the basket, he is fucking huge. Not only does he hover over you, you also feel like you suddenly grew smaller when he outstretches his hands, easily blocking both sides. You dribble back again, cursing quietly as you try to figure out a way around him.

The only possibility you see is trying to shoot from the three point line, but there is no way you're making that in. With how long it took for you to get the free throw in, a three pointer will seriously take all night — if you'd even manage to get it in then.

Is this how he wins his games? By intimidating his opponents until they run away and settle for the last possible option just to lose the ball? Fucker. An incredibly tall and handsome fucker. You never want to stand on the opposite side of the court against him again.

You try to run around him but he blocks you again, this time stealing the ball from you. He runs behind the line with ease, making his way past you even easier before dunking the ball in, scoring another point for himself. "I don't want to do this," you groan. He chuckles, passing you the ball as a small pay back. But it's no use when you won't be able to shoot anyway.

"Just try, hm? What's the worst that happens?"

"I embarrass myself in front of you," you mutter, not meeting his eyes as you try as he said, dribbling around him.

"In front of me? Who cares what I think," he shakes his head. "Just have fun, Blue. Play around, miss the shots or make them in, lose or win — it doesn't matter." He doesn't stand in your way this time, his eyes following you as you dribble to the basket before shooting your shot once you are close enough to confidently make it in. The shot is clean, the ball falling through the hoop perfectly. "What matters is that you keep that smile on your face and don't worry yourself with anything."

It's easy for him, isn't it? You want to argue that you can't possibly stop worrying about what he'll think of you but you stop yourself in time, realizing just how wrongly that conversation would go. Your best shot today is to just listen to his words and try to enjoy this as much as possible. Even if you do lose at the end.

You never went into this considering you'd win so it should be fine. You can have fun with Mingyu without worrying yourself with anything.

Once you let go, you feel a lot better. Laugh fills your ears — both your own and his — accompanied with the sound of the ball hitting the hoop and bouncing off. You stopped playing for points a long time ago, Mingyu easily scoring ten more points before you could get another one in. But because Kim Mingyu can't be anything if not perfect, he encourages you to keep trying, cheering you on as you keep trying to get around him to shoot. Eventually, you give up on trying to be perfect and just shoot from your spot. The ball won't make it and you know it, but he seems to believe in you a lot more as he turns around to watch the ball go.

Taking your chance, you run past him and catch the ball as it falls short, shooting again once you have the right grip. It's only then that he realizes what you did, rushing to you to stop the ball from going in. But he is too late, and the ball falls into the hoop before he can catch it.

"Yes!!" You yell loudly. "Did you see that?? I figured it out! I outplayed you for real!"

He laughs as he turns to face you, nodding. "I saw that," he assures you. "You did great, Blue."

Your cheeks heat up as soon as your eyes lock with his, his words making your heart do spins for the nth time today. It's incredible how he makes you feel, and how much more you want him to talk to you. He's always been attractive, but now, when you know you enjoy spending time with him as well, you are just so much more interested. It's been a while since you felt like this, and even then your feelings weren't as strong as they are now.

"Let's take a break," he suggests, motioning to the bench you laid your jacket on before. "I've got water in my bag, you should hydrate yourself." You nod, unable to argue as you follow him to the bench. Taking a seat on the edge, you watch him reach into his backpack, handing you his water bottle. You take a long sip before handing it back to him, prompting him to do the same.

You lean back in your seat, looking up at the night sky. The stars are much clearer from here than Seoul. Taking a seat besides you, he rests the bottle of water between you in case you want to drink again, following your line of sight.

"How come you didn't go drinking with them?" You wonder out loud.

It stays quiet for a second so you glance his way, finding him looking up at the sky. "Didn't feel like it," he shrugs when he feels your eyes on him. "I wanted to practice more and coach said there was a court nearby, so I found this." You hum back. "Why didn't you? I'm sure they asked you to join."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to get drunk in front of them," you explain. "Jake kept texting me to come join them after all but it didn't feel right." It didn't feel right to get drunk and confess my feelings to you, but you don't finish that sentence. After all, not going ended up being the better option. When else would you get a chance to play basketball with him?

"Jake is nice," he hums.

"Yeah," you agree, trying not to sound too confused. "He is great."

"How long have you been together?" Mingyu wonders next and you almost choke on your saliva.

"What??" His eyes shoot to you when he hears you coughing, quickly patting your back in an attempt to help. "We aren't together," you correct him as soon as you can breathe properly again. "We are friends. Just friends."

"Oh?" He blinks, a little confused. "I thought you guys— never mind."

"You thought we what? Does it look like we are together? God, do people seriously think that?" You groan and his lips curve up at your panic.

"No," he shakes his head. "I guess it was just me who thought so," a soft, almost disbelieving, chuckle leaves his lips. The realization slowly settles in, all the interactions he's seen you have with his teammates — the jokes and conversations — making much more sense now.

A beat of silence passes by as the two of you sit under the moonlight, watching the night sky together. "Can I ask something?" You break the quiet, too nervous to even look at him.

His eyes rest on you though, wondering what you're thinking about. "You just did," he teases, trying to ease the situation when he sees how anxious you seem. It doesn't help at all. You fidget with your fingers, trying to find the right words as your eyes fall down to your lap. Mingyu's eyes follow yours, his brows furrowing when he sees you playing with your nails. "Ask me away, Blue."

You're suddenly rethinking everything you did today; how you look, how you acted, how you played, even how you're sitting right now. Putting yourself out there is your least favorite thing. You usually don't mind having attention on yourself, at least not to the point where it would actually influence your behavior. But as you sit here now, wondering what goes inside Mingyu's head when he looks at you, you feel like throwing up as soon as the words leave your lips. "Why do you never talk to me?"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head.

You still don't meet his eyes, staring holes into your thighs. "Like— the team talks with me after games or whatever but we barely say hi to each other," you quickly blurt out, unsure if he can even understand you. He sighs and you finally look up. "Is it because of Jungkook?"

"Jungkook?" His frown deepens. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Is he not—" you stop yourself from finishing the sentence, cursing yourself mentally as you gaze into his confused eyes. Jungkook has nothing to do with it. He never had anything to do with it. You're not sure if that makes you feel better or worse. Why has he been avoiding you like the plague then?

"I didn't mean to avoid you," he assures you, his gaze dropping to your fingers again. You are still playing with them, but it's gotten better now. "To be honest, I didn't even think you noticed we weren't talking."

"I did," you mumble. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You did?" He questions and your cheeks heat up, nervousness washing over you again.

"You are part of the team and others talk to me so I just—" you quickly try to excuse it, hoping he doesn't notice how red your ears are. "I didn't want anything to be awkward between us, so I wanted to get to know you as well."

He chuckles, nodding. "I'm sorry I made you feel like it was ever awkward between us." His eyes soften as he looks at you, all your previous interactions crossing his mind. He understands why you could think he didn't want to talk to you or that he feels indifferent towards you, but that was never his intention. "I never had anything against you — actually I always thought you were pretty damn cool based on how the guys talk about you — but I didn't want to overstep because I thought you were with Jake and it could make him uncomfortable."

"I'm not with Jake," you remind him again.

He laughs, "Yes, I know that now."

"Okay, good. Just remember that."

"I will," he shakes his head in amusement, a smile on his face as he takes the sight of you in again — no longer fidgeting with your fingers and wearing a smile on your face.

He likes you like this much more. You are pretty when you are happy.

By the time you came back to your room last night, it was already midnight. You'd love to blame it all on Mingyu, but you didn't want to leave either. The longer you could spend time with him, the happier you were. The two of you played again — and this time he actually allowed you the advantage of eight points — betting on who'd reach ten points first. You lost, obviously.

You probably should have been sad you lost, but somehow, you were glad. Because losing and having to keep your word that the winner gets a wish, means you'll have to talk to him again. It means you'll have an excuse to talk to him and get to know him further. The fact you need to fulfill his wish is just a minor disadvantage.

The two of you walked back together, chatting about anything and everything that came to mind. You're not sure how much he remembers, but you told him a lot about yourself and he did the same in return, the questions you've always had for him slowly disappearing just for new ones to appear with every answer. You think it's safe to say you're interested him.

You're not sure when Jake came back to the hotel room, but it was long after you were already asleep. Luckily, he didn't throw up or anything, keeping his promise, but he still ended up hung over in the morning, whining your ears off.

"Is there anyone sober?" Your dad complains. "I don't have players to play with if you guys don't do something about yourself right about," he looks at the watch on his hand to add to his point, "now."

"We are all pretty much sobered up," Seungcheol argues. "My head does hurt though."

You laugh quietly as your dad contemplates his choices to be their coach. "Coach, me and Vernon stopped drinking before midnight, we are good to play."

"I also feel good," Riki pipes up.

"Nishimura, you'll see my daughter married before you play on the court," your dad deadpans and your eyes widen, unsure if you should question what he means by that or laugh at your friends misery.

"I didn't drink anything last night, coach," Mingyu joins the conversation and your eyes find him immediately. He stands with his hands in his pockets, dressed in comfortable gray shorts and a black graphic shirt, sunglasses sitting firmly on top of his head. Have you mentioned yet how attractive he is? Because if not, maybe you should get your laptop and start writing a book about it.

"Exactly why you're my favorite player," your dad snaps his fingers, visibly excited. "We can work with this. Okay, whoever can drive will drive, we'll stop at a gas station and everyone will try to sober up as best as they can. Only if I know no one will want to test you for alcohol is when I let you guys on the court."

A loud, "Yes, coach!" is heard from everyone, making you blink in surprise while Seojin besides you looks pleased, expecting nothing less from their team. When you see the look in his eyes, your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You settle yourself in the passenger seat of your dad's car, Jake and Riki right behind you again. You watch as Mingyu gets into his car, Seungcheol right behind him. Seojin drives Seungcheol's car this time, taking in Jeonghan and Heeseung, while Seungkwan drives Joshua and Hansol in Joshua's car. Every part of you wants to switch with Seungcheol and sit besides Mingyu, watch him drive and talk with him the entire ride, but there's no way you'd be able to do that with your dad around.

Fastening your seatbelt with a heavy sigh, you bring the attention of all three to yourself. Quickly shaking your head when you notice them, you brush them off, claiming you just sighed because you feel tired. As soon as your dad hums and focuses on the road again, you send Dae a quick text about how you'll need to talk with her about Mingyu when you come back before switching chats to the one with Bora you started last night, asking her to wait for you in front of the stadium when she arrives.

Jumping out of the car as soon as it comes to a stop, you join the guys, planning to buy yourself coffee and your dad a soda per his request. You swear it's not on purpose, that you have nothing to do with it, but as you walk you find yourself by Mingyu's side, the two of you trailing together at the very back.

"Hi," you smile up at him. His smile is gentle as he greets you back, his chocolate eyes finding yours with ease. You love his eyes. "Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly fell asleep shortly after showering," he nods. "The guys were a mess when they came back, though. Shua and Hee were singing for the entire floor to hear before Hansol and I shut the up." You chuckle at the imagine in your head. You'd love to see that as well. "It was little after three when they got back but they fell asleep as soon as their faces hit the bed so it wasn't too bad."

"How are they even functioning right now?" you ask, more curiously than judging them. Even though, considering the situation, you do hate it on behalf of your dad. Despite them winning the yesterday's game, they still need to do their best today, which is not something that can happen with half of his players under the influence. If anyone finds out, they could be in serious trouble.

"They are used to it," he shrugs. "Not to say they are alcoholics, but it's not the first time celebrations were like this."

"Do you usually no drink with them?"

"Oh no," Mingyu laughs as you enter the store together. "I drink with them way more than not. I just wasn't in the mood last night. And, to be honest, I did not want to risk having alcohol in my system for today's game. I want to be at my best today."

"When are you not at your best?" You mumble, taking a turn to the right immediately to browse the drinks they offer. Mingyu blinks at you curiously, your words repeating in his head. There are a lot of moments he could answer with, but he likes the fact you believe in him so much to think he does no wrong. If anything, it's a great motivation.

"Hand it to me," Mingyu encourages when you reach the counter to pay. You look up at him, eyebrows furrow in confusion as you hold the bottle of coke for your dad. You give it to him hesitantly, watching as he hands it to the worker for her to add it to his bill.

Your eyes widen immediately, "Wait, Mingyu, no, I'm buying that."

"It's fine. Did you want anything else?"

"Mingyu," you shake your head. "Stop buying me stuff every time we stop somewhere," you try your best to sound convincing, but by the lazy scoff that leaves his lips, you don't think you managed anything. "Can you please take it off? I'll pay for it myself. And I'll also get a latte please."

"Add the coffee as well. How much is the total?" Mingyu smiles innocently at the girl behind the counter. He really is no good for you. While you want to keep arguing with him, fight him that there is no reason for him to buy you drinks, the tingly feeling in your chest when he does stops you.

"Mingyu," you try once more.

His gaze drops to you, his smile widening. "Yes, Blue? Just accept the offer when I'm making it, okay? You can buy next time." You both know next time will look the same, that he'll fight you for paying again, but neither of you say anything about it. You sigh in defeat, nodding when the cashier asks you if she should ring him up with your drinks on as well.

"I think you misunderstood the terms of our bet," you mumble as you walk outside again, sipping on your coffee. "Since you won, I'm supposed to fulfill your wish. Not the other way around. There is no reason for you to be doing this."

Mingyu shrugs, not a single care in the world. "I know what we bet on. Trust me, I'll use my wish well when I figure out what I want. But for now, I'm simply bribing my coach by buying him and his daughter a drink."

"So this is what it's about?" You fake gasps and he nods, biting back a smile. "What would happen if he found out you're using me like this? Your good boy image would fall off."

"I don't need a good boy image when I am in fact a good boy," he sends you a wink that makes you feel like your heart will jump out of your chest before sending you off with a grin on his face, getting back to his car.

Kim Mingyu is so terrible for your health.

He is also, apparently, a good boy.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

Your eyes land on Bora's figure as soon as you step out of the car. You're not the only one looking at her, though. Watching as Seungkwan takes the sight of your friend in with a smile on his face, you have to smile too. They might not know what awaits them in the future, but you can already seem them getting together and being happy. Seungkwan deserves this, and you root for him with everything you have.

"We'll go in first," you wave at your dad, locking arms with the brown haired girl waiting for you. "Let's pick good seats."

"Let's go," Bora nods eagerly.

You tell her about the guys' celebration yesterday and how your dad was pretty annoyed in the morning, not knowing who to send on the court without risking a penalty for a player under the influence. You leave out the fact Mingyu was the only one not drinking because he was with you, shrugging and saying that he probably just didn't feel like drinking when she asks. There is a somehow proud smile on her lips when you tell her that Seungkwan is one of the players ready to play today, making you roll your eyes. She's super obvious.

A part of you wonders if you look the same when you think or hear about Mingyu. If you wear a similarly adorable smile without even realizing. While you have a feeling you do, you hope it's not like this in your case. Because if it is, everyone probably knows what goes on in your head, and that's not something you want.

You find seats in first row this time. It's not that huge of a change from yesterday's game, but it still feels like you are a lot closer to the players. Your dad and his assistant coach are the first ones to appear on the court, quickly finding your seats before settling at their own bench.

"I saw this video last night, I wanted to show it to you, wait," Bora says as she opens her phone quickly, easily getting your full attention again. There is forty minutes until the official start of the match, and you spend the entire time talking with her, barely noticing other people come in and occupy the seats around you. You talk about things you have in common, what interests you, and she also tells you about her family and how she's been into the sport her whole life thanks to her brother. Explaining how you grew up around basketball thanks to your family as well, you bond over your experience all over again. You're convinced you'll keep this girl in your life as long as you can, and you just hope she feels the same about you.

The starting five is different this time, just like you assumed when you saw how Seungcheol was doing. You've seen worse before, but with how tired he seems and how he's been complaining about his head hurting, it makes sense for your dad to swap him out. What you didn't expect was for Jeonghan to be sitting this time as well. He looked fine to you, but who knows what your dad was thinking.

Mingyu, Seungkwan, Hansol, Heeseung and Jake all come onto the court along with five players from the opponent's team, Mingyu taking his place in the middle circle instantly, getting ready for the jump ball. With his tall figure, it's only natural for him to be doing it. Despite other players often being around his height as well, his jump ability gives him the needed advantage. You watch him from your seat, looking forward to the play he shows today.

Waiting for the referee to take position as well, Mingyu takes his time scanning the crowd. He looks at all of their fans, noticing the red color in the audience a lot more than the opponent's green. You matched color to his team today as well. Your jeans are black, the same ones you wore to the game last night, and your shirt red. It's not a bad look, the opposite actually, but it's not blue.

"On three." Mingyu snaps out of it, his eyes immediately flickering to the referee besides him. Nodding, he gets ready, briefly looking at his opponent before focusing his attention on the ball. He doesn't hear the count anymore, only jumping once he sees the ball being tossed in the air. His opponent is shorter than him this time but it doesn't stop him from jumping as high as he can, stealing the ball into his side. He hears your cheers from the side but he doesn't have the time to look, instantly running forward so they can score the first basket.

Becoming friends with a guy you've liked for around a year is not for the weak. It seems like the dumbest thing ever when you think about it, but that doesn't change the fact your heart skips a beat at any and every mention of him.

It was a follow at first. Once you told Dae about your weekend and how you played basketball with him late at night, she immediately encouraged you into messaging him, claiming you should strike the pot while it's still hot. You didn't have the nerve to text him yet, but you sent him a follow, one he returned in the span of a minute. Deep down you know it doesn't mean anything, but at the moment, when the following turned into friends, you couldn't be more excited.

You exchanged simple likes after, a smile on your face every time you'd watch the stories he'd post. It's mostly pics from the trainings or his friends, but a picture of him in the gym occasionally pops up and you're down bad for him again. Even with his forehead full of sweat and tired eyes, he is just as attractive as ever.

Mingyu can't give you a moment to rest, though. So as soon as you started getting used to his notification popping out every time you'd post something — because he apparently is the nicest person on earth and likes everything he sees — he found a new way to get you jumping up from your seat. After posting a picture of you and one of the little girls you met at your internship, holding the drawing she made for you, he popped into your messages for the first time, asking about it.

You spent the next two hours on the phone with him, talking about your internship and all the kids you've got to teach so far, as well as some other things you've manage to learn thanks to your classes. To your surprise, you don't feel nervous at all talking to him. Maybe it's because of the topic, or how excited you always get when someone asks you about teaching. He is eager with his follow up questions as well, reassuring you he truly cares every time he interrupts you to ask something that caught his attention.

When he interrupted your texting by calling you the first time, you almost didn't pick up at time, but the more you talk to him, the more at ease you feel. If you could pick one thing you like the most about him, it would be how important he makes you feel every time.

You stayed on the phone with him until he made it to the sport hall, hanging up only because he needed to change and start training.

Ever since then, the two of you somehow managed to turn your calls into something normal, usually at least texting a few times during the day if you weren't calling later. If someone told you just a month ago that you'd be talking to Mingyu on the daily, you wouldn't believe them. It's something you once dreamed of, so having it now still feels out of this world.

Smiling as you send him a quick message, laughing at the picture he sent of his spilled coffee. Turns out, Mingyu is the clumsiest person you know, stuff like these happening to him on the daily. From spilling drinks, to breaking stuff or bumping into things. You're honestly surprised he is still alive at this point.

He sends you a pouty selfie right after seeing your laughing emoji, your grin only widening. "That's a boy!" Your eyes widen and you immediately turn your phone off, turning around to see Jiho, one of the loudest kids you look after.

"A boy?" Jia peers up instantly, blinking at you curiously. She's adorable, every part of you wanting to tell her all about the boy in your phone when you meet her big brown eyes.

"A boy," you nod. "Just like Jiho is a boy, and like Sunghoon is a boy."

"No!" Jiho argues quickly. "That was a grown boy! Like my dad!" You know he probably doesn't mean it that way, but thinking about how he just compared his dad, who is in his late thirties, to your Mingyu, makes you laugh.

Your Mingyu. You like thinking about him that way.

Before you can blink, a small group of kids surrounds you, all of them looking at you as if you just introduced them something foreign. Awkwardly smiling at them, you search for your supervisor, begging her with your eyes to come and help you out. She just smiles at you from across the room, leaning against the wall in amusement. Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the wave of questions about to come.

"Was that your husband?"

"I don't have a husband," you shake your head quickly, raising your left hand to show off that it's empty. "See this finger? What do we call this finger?"

"The ring finger!" Jooyoung yells immediately.

"Exactly!" You grin happily, proud of her for getting it right. "And since there isn't a ring on this finger, it means I don't have a husband."

"Then it's a boyfriend, right? My sister says she needs a boyfriend all the time!"

"The boy Jiho saw isn't my boyfriend either," you answer her question, trying not to get swayed by the idea. "He is a friend of mine. He is nice to me, which is why I like him so much and talk to him. You guys remember how we talked about friendships last week, right?"

Everyone around nods and you do as well. "Great. Can anyone tell me what a friendship is?"

"When two people share their toys together!"

"When we play together!"

"When we are nice to each other!"

"Yes, yes, precisely," you agree. "So how about you all gather your friends, and go play with them?" It works better than you expected. All the kids glance at each other before running off with a laugh, making you breathe out in relief. You're glad you managed to get out of it so easily.

"That was great," your supervisor, Mrs. Choi, says as she joins your side. Looking up at her from your chair, you offer her a brief smile as well. "You took care of it well."

"I'm sorry for being on my phone while working," you lower your head again with an apology. Truth is though, you don't regret it. You never regret texting Mingyu and learning what he's doing.

"At least say it like you mean it," she scoffs playfully, pulling out a chair besides you and sitting down. "It's okay if you answer some texts when you're not busy, just please don't let it distract you to the point you aren't paying attention to the children."

"I won't," you promise instantly. "It could have waited and that was my fault."

She shakes her head, brushing you off. "Back when I was your age, I also couldn't wait to answer the phone when a boy I liked texted me. And look at me now, I'm still doing the job and I married him," she points to her ring finger. "So believe me when I say I'm okay with you being on your phone from time to time."

"It's not like that," you try to argue, but by the knowing smile she wears you don't think she believes you. To be fair, you don't believe yourself either. Talking to him every day, constantly texting and laughing at things together, it's impossible not to hope for something more. It's incredibly easy to love Kim Mingyu.

"Darling, eyes are the one and only thing that doesn't lie."

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

"Blue."

You're fully convinced you'd recognize his voice anywhere. Looking up, your eyes widen when they meet the chocolate ones you fall in love with every day more and more. "Mingyu?" You blink confusedly, standing up and dusting your jeans off. Glancing at the kids — who are watching you curiously instead of focusing on their drawings — you debate what the right move here is. "What are you doing here?"

"That's him!" You hear Jiho exclaim, quickly grabbing Mingyu's sleeve and pulling him with your outside.

"Woah, woah, ask me out to a dinner first," he laughs but still follows you voluntarily. You don't answer him, not stopping until you are far away from everyone.

"What are you doing here?" You repeat your question, slowly letting go of him.

His eyes briefly fall to the piece of fabric you were holding until now, a move you notice and only makes you more confused. "I texted you but I don't think you saw my messages," he meets your eyes again, an easy going smile on his face as he fixes the gym back hanging on his shoulder.

Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you scan the new messages truly waiting for you. He asked when you finish and if you want to go home together, as well as sending you updates on his position so you know when to expect him. "Shoot," you mutter, apology written all across your face as you look up. He simply shakes his head, assuring you it's okay. "I'm sorry I didn't answer and you walked all the way here for nothing," you frown. "I have another hour left until I can leave."

"I can wait," he shrugs. "I don't mind."

"But—"

Mrs. Choi calling your name interrupts you and you peek over Mingyu's side to see her, quickly apologizing to her for rushing out like that. "It's okay," she shakes her head, a calming sign you saw from Mingyu just seconds ago. "Who may this gentleman be?"

"Kim Mingyu," he introduces himself with a grin, extending his hand forward for her to shake. She gladly does, the knowing smile of hers making you close your eyes in regret. "I'm sorry for interrupting like this. I thought I'd come by and walk her home."

"Oh, please, come inside," she encourages him and your eyes widen. Inside? You can't leave right now, she knows that as well. The kindergarten is opened until three and you just promised the kids you'll draw with them. "I can make you a cup of coffee and you can wait comfortably there. No need to wait outside."

"Mrs. Choi—"

She completely ignores you, nudging Mingyu in while talking about how grateful she is to have you here and is glad you won't have to go home alone. You sigh, watching their backs as they disappear in the door. This could go terrible. You do feel bad about keeping him waiting for you, but you also can't stop thinking about the fact he decided to come here and pick you up, not even batting an eye when he found out he has to wait an hour if he wants to go with you.

With your cheeks flushed and heart beating out of your chest, you quickly fix your hair before following the two of them back inside.

Mingyu is crouching down at the same spot you were when he showed up, a smile on his face and a pencil in hand as he helps Jooyoung draw on her paper. It's not the first time your body has reacted to Mingyu, but it certainly is the first time your ovaries are dancing this much, all because he is doing the same thing you love the most — teaching.

Good God.

"What are you guys doing?" You ask softly, your eyes flickering between the drawing and Mingyu as you gently pat Jooyoung's hair, your other hand resting on Gyu's back instinctively.

"This kind sir is helping me draw a flower," she explains and you laugh when his shoulder's tense at the name.

"Call me Mingyu, hm?" He smiles at her before shooting you a look for laughing at him.

"Mingyu sir," Sujin besides her smiles.

A snicker escapes your lips and you quickly hide your face behind your palms. "Looks like you are getting old, Mingyu sir," you tease, unable to stop laughing.

"Oh yeah?" He taunts, dropping the pencil in his hand on the table and pushing himself up, instantly towering over you. "I'm getting old? Aren't you little daring, miss?" He leans down, his face only inches from yours. It's hot. Is it only you who feels hot right now? Swallowing, you open your mouth in an attempt to answer, but no words leave your lips.

"Ew! Mrs. Choi, they are about to kiss!"

You've never taken a step back as fast as now, forcing more space between you when you hear the complain. You were not just about to kiss him. Definitely not. Just like you definitely aren't staring at his lips, and how it definitely isn't distracting you to the point you don't know where you're putting your foot. Your eyes widen as you step on something, losing your balance.

Fortunately, you don't hit the ground like you expect to. A strong arm wraps around your waist, catching you just in time. He looks panicked, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide as he stops you from falling. Exhaling in relief, he helps you stand on both of your feet again, ignoring all the groans and complains coming from the kids. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, trying to blink out of the shock and look anywhere but at him. "Thank you."

"I got you," he smiles again, slowly letting his hand fall back to his side.

You clear your throat, clasping your hands together as you look around the room, refusing to meet eyes with your supervisor, knowing exactly how she's looking at you right now. "Alright, guys! Who wants to have Mingyu give them a piggyback ride around the room?"

Mingyu stares ahead confusedly, wondering if he's heard you right. But when he looks at you and sees the smile on your face as you encourage the first kid to come forward, he can't complain about anything.

It's probably the most you've laughed in a while. Watching Mingyu get dragged around the room, all of the kids wanting to play with him, has you absolutely head over heels. It's adorable, he's adorable. Grinning at you every chance he gets, seemingly proud of how well he is doing, you fall for him again. You're sure a lot of the kids feel the same, refusing to let go of him even when their parents come pick them up. They only let go once he promises to play with them even more next time, and while deep down you know there won't be a next time, his words manage to spark hope in you as well.

"Thank you so much for today," Mrs. Choi smiles at Mingyu warmly, handing him back his sports bag. "The kids really loved spending time with you."

"I'm glad to not have been a burden," he smiles before glancing at you. "It was nice learning what it's like to take care of a group of children like this."

"Hopefully it's not the last time we are seeing you here."

"I hope so too," he nods and you bite back your smile, trying not to show how excited that makes you. "Let's get you home?" He tilts his head and you nod, unable to meet his eyes as you grab the rest of your stuff and say your goodbyes to Mrs. Choi, following him out.

You walk side by side, your hands sometimes brushing each other on the way. Neither of you pulls away though. You try to convince yourself it doesn't mean anything and that he probably doesn't even notice the electricity his touch sends through your body, but it's hard to believe it's all just coincidence. He has to feel something too, right? You don't want to get your hopes up, that's the last thing you'd want, but why would he be doing all this if it was only meant to lead you on?

"You really didn't have to wait for me," you mumble, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear. "I could have just called you once I was done or something. You didn't have to walk me."

"I wanted to," he states casually. "It doesn't bother me at all, Blue," he assures you when he sees the look in your eyes. "I wanted to walk with you so I did what I could to walk with you. Don't even think for a second that you are bothering me or anything like that."

He shuts you up immediately, your lips forming a straight line as you look down at the ground beneath your feet. How does he manage to mess with your head so easily? "You're too good to me," you whisper.

Shaking his head, he allows himself to lace his fingers with yours, careful not to freak you out. Your head shoots up immediately, your eyes finding his in surprise. "If there is anyone too good for someone, it's you, Blue." His eyes drop to your tangled fingers and you do the same. He's holding two of them, his large hands covering them fully. "Who else would sit on a call for hours with me and listen to my ramblings?"

You could name girls. You are certain if he wanted to, he could have any girl he wants doing the same. Loving Mingyu is easy for you, so why wouldn't it be for other girls? "Have I ever told you you confuse the hell out of me?" You slowly lift your eyes again, your expression a mix of happiness and fear. You watch something flicker in his eyes, something you can't name at the moment. It makes him drop your hand, though, and that's all you need to know.

Clearing his throat, he averts his eyes from you, "Let's go. I'm sure you have things you need to do instead of just standing here with me."

A part of you wants to argue with him and tell him that you don't care what you are doing as long as you are with him, but then you remember the look in his eyes and decide not to, nodding instead. "Yeah, let's go," you agree, not waiting for him to lead this time and simply stepping forward. It takes him a second to pull himself again but he catches up to you, doing his best to stay calm in the bothersome silence that embraces you afterward.

The walk isn't exactly awkward, but it doesn't feel nice either. You both feel it. While you gently kick the rocks under you, coming in terms with the answer you just got, Mingyu eats himself alive for his earlier reaction. It was far from what he wanted to do, but he can't figure out how to tell you what goes in his head. For now, he'll just have to hope you don't hate him too much after this.

Despite the way your last real interaction with Mingyu went, nothing much has changed. As soon as you closed the door behind you, finally able to breathe alone, you were convinced that was the end of what you managed to build together in the past weeks. You hated the idea of it, of not spending hours on the phone with him anymore and hearing his voice through out the day, or not being able to text him when something would happen, having to deal with it on your own.

But he never stopped interacting with you like before, constantly texting you and calling you at night to talk about your day. It almost made you feel like he didn't reject you back then.

Almost.

But truth is the memory crosses your mind every time the call gets quiet enough, every time you aren't busy focusing on something and your mind gets a moment to think. You still see his eyes clearly, the fear of what your words mean and the instant pull back when he processed it.

At times, you feel like you are losing your mind thinking about all the moments you thought meant something. They didn't, you need to remind yourself. Mingyu is the nicest guy you know, and even though you don't want to blame him, it's because of that that you're left feeling like this. Maybe if he wasn't so nice, if he wasn't so good for you, it wouldn't hurt this much to admit to yourself it isn't happening.

"You need to stop drowning in that pain," Dae's voice makes you snap out of your thoughts. You turn to face her, forcing a smile on and shaking your head gently. "He wasn't all that anyway," she waves her hand, trying to cheer you up. "If you ask me, Seungcheol — who has been flirting with you this whole time mind you — is much better."

You chuckle, your eyes following hers and locking on the very man you are talking about, his jersey sitting on top of a white shirt that hugs his biceps perfectly as he dribbles across the court before passing it to someone you can't see from your place. "It's all jokingly," you remind her. "You should know that the best, hasn't he been flirting with you? Like, actually flirting."

Her cheeks catch the color red and you already know the answer. "That's jokingly as well," she tries to brush you off. Raising an eyebrow at her, you eye her up and down. "Come on, you know him better than I do. Shouldn't you know he flirts with everyone? I don't need that."

"I do know that," you shrug. "But I still think he flirts a tiny bit more with you. Who knows, maybe if you gave him a shot, the two of you could have something great."

"Sure," she rolls her eyes at you. "Just like—" she stops herself before finishing the sentence, swallowing the rest of her words.

"Just like what?"

"Nothing," she blurts out quickly.

Narrowing your eyes at her suspiciously, you try to see through her. "Were you just going to mention my failed….whatever with Mingyu?"

"No!" She argues.

"You were!"

"I wasn't!" She raises her hands in the air, shaking her head so hard you think it'll cramp soon. "I was just, you know, talking faster than I think. I don't know what I was going to say."

"Sure," you sigh. It's okay if she was going to mention it. She'd only be voicing what you've been thinking anyway.

"Do you want to watch the game? It doesn't look like anyone will come anytime soon so let's just step out for a moment," she suggests, wanting to make you feel better. You hum, standing up from your place and following her out of the stand, settling at the entrance. You see the entire court now instead of just half of it, your eyes quickly scanning the score board before dropping to the players.

They are doing amazing as always. The score is sitting at 64:61, but you have no doubt they'll win. They are your favorite team after all. No matter what happened or still awaits you, your cheers for them won't change. You've been their fan all throughout last year while crushing on Mingyu as well, so why wouldn't you be now?

You watch the exact moment Hansol and Seungkwan get into it, running faster than before and getting past all the blockers with ease. Passing the ball around until they make it under the opponent's basket, it's all perfect. Cheering loudly, you watch as Seungkwan jumps in the air, the ball leaving his fingertips precisely. The ball makes it into the hoop, the score board switching to 66:61 in a second.

It's time to go into defense, but thankfully the guys don't lack there either. Hansol gets to work again instantly, doing his best not to let them get past him. Getting in the player's way, he blocks him until he steps out of the line, the referee's whistle ringing in your ears immediately.

There aren't many referee signs you remember, but the ball going out of the bounds is one of them. He points towards the sideline that was crossed, pointing out the violation of rule eight. Your dad tried to teach you these signs before, but all you ended up remembering was this one and the one for a player taking steps without dribbling. It wasn't like you necessary needed to know them when you were still playing.

Just like that, the ball goes to the Knights again, allowing them the opportunity to make another great play.

Dae besides you cheers when Seungcheol gets the ball, yelling tactics at his team. They are making Mingyu score. You've seen your dad planning enough to know what his words mean. So while the opponents might be confused on what their next move is, you know exactly who the ball is going to.

Seungcheol makes a low pass to Mingyu, who jumps without any hesitance, aiming at the basket before shooting the ball out of his hands, landing on the three point line again. You watch as the ball spins on the hoop, knowing exactly how to make the entire crowd tense. The whole court is silent as they wait if the ball makes it in or bounces off, until a loud cheer erupts in your ears again as the Knights gain three more points.

You watch Mingyu jog to the other side of the court quickly, getting ready to defend. His eyes find you briefly, but you quickly break eye contact, turning around on your heel and excusing yourself so you can go to the toilet. Dae doesn't question you at all, her eyes still glued to the game as you leave to the back.

Despite your heart aching when you look at him, you are still his biggest fan. You think you'll be for a while. Unless he plans to break your heart entirely.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

Just like you thought they would, the guys won tonight. Celebrations were hard, especially on you with the amount of people needing a drink. But you managed, and an hour after the game finished, you are finally cleaning up.

"What about these?" You ask your dad, holding up the knifes and paper towels left here. There aren't any home games planned for the time being, so there is no need to be leaving your things here.

"Take them to our changing room, there is a box in the back for towels and things like this." Humming, you let him wash the counter as you walk around him, heading straight for the changing rooms. The men's changing room is still where it was when you grew up, remaining the only changing room dedicated to the team. Other teams usually just take whatever room is free when they arrive, including your children teams.

You stop right in front of the door, unable to walk inside when you hear the familiar voice. You don't know if they are changing at the moment or not, but you aren't risking it. Taking a step to the side, you settle besides the door, waiting for the guys to finish before you go put this away.

"Bora is amazing," you hear Seungkwan tell the guys and your lips immediately turn up into a smile. From what you know, they've been talking lately, and you love that they are getting along. The only other pair you need now is Dae and Seungcheol, but that might need a lot more effort than Bora and Kwan did. "She couldn't make it today but I can't wait to see her again next week at the ball."

"Are you two going together?" Seokmin question, the grin on his face obvious in his tone.

"Yeah," Seungkwan answers sheepishly and you cheer internally. You're just as happy to have Bora on the ball as he is. It's something you've been looking forward to for a while.

"What about you?" Jeonghan is asking this time. "Are you coming with Blue or are you both going on your own?"

"Don't call her Blue," Mingyu grumbles immediately. You suddenly feel like you are invading their space. You should go. You should go and act like you never heard anything.

Your feet don't move, though. Despite your head telling you to go, you stay glued in place, unable to leave. "Someone is possessive again," Seungcheol laughs.

"I'm not," Mingyu argues, clearly annoyed. "And she's going with coach, I think. We didn't talk about it."

"Why not?" Seokmin wonders. "You should just ask her to come with you. We all know you'll be together all night anyway. Ever since you started talking to her, you have been unable to be with anyone else."

"You're acting as if you mind," Joshua scoffs. "All his girls are falling at your feet now."

"I know! It's great!"

You should really leave. You aren't supposed to be a part of this conversation. If they knew you are outside the door, they wouldn't be talking like this.

"I don't get why you don't make it official," Jake shakes his head. "It's clear you like her, and we both know she likes you as well, so why are you hesitating so much?"

"Is it because of coach?" Riki adds another question.

"It's not like that," Mingyu finally huffs, the sound of a locker being slammed shut following right after. "We aren't like that. We are friends. That's all there is. We both feel that way, so can you stop saying things like this?" You swallow as you listen to his voice, the last bit of hope you have searching for any sign of him lying as he speaks. "Even if anything you guys think we have going on was true — which it's not — it's not like we'd ever be anything. We have a championship to win. I have a clear goal I need to reach. I can't have anything holding me back. Especially not my coach's daughter."

There goes the last bit of hope you had. It leaves out the window, your eyes closing shut as you take a deep breath. If his answer weeks ago wasn't enough for you, this certainly is. There is nothing between you and Mingyu. Never was and never will be. You are friends at best. Even though you aren't sure if you want that after tonight.

"What are you doing here?" Dae tilts her head confusedly and you finally push yourself forward, quickly walking to her.

"Can you put this inside?" You hand her all the stuff you are holding, only confusing her further. "There should be a box or something in the back. Or maybe the guys know if you ask them." Your eyes flicker all over her, unable to stay focused on one thing for too long. "I'm going back to the stand to check if we got everything and then leave, okay? I'll see you next Saturday at the ball."

"Wait—" She turns after you as you rush off, blinking into the empty space as your back disappears from her sight. You feel sorry for leaving so abruptly, but you need to get home and into your bed. You need to get as far away from Mingyu as you possibly can and do something with yourself so you can act like you didn't just overhear their entire conversation.

"Are you sure you want to be getting ready with me?" You ask again, eyeing Bora from your bed. "Aren't you going with Seungkwan?"

She brushes you off, "I told him we'll meet there. There is no need for us to come together, anyway. And, I want to get ready with you. Do you know how long it's been since I last went out with a girl who wasn't fucking my brother?" You shake your head at her, standing up to help her grab her things. "But if you think fucking my brother might help you stop looking so gloomy all the time, I'm pretty sure he is single at the moment."

"No, thanks," you laugh, hanging her dress on the open door of your room. "But if Seungcheol doesn't dance with Dae the entire night, offer it to her. She'll need it."

"I thought you said she doesn't expect anything out of it?"

"She says she doesn't," you correct. "But I know better than anyone she hopes he asks her out instead of just flirting with her all the time, trust me." Bora sighs, plopping down on your bed. "Don't give me those pitiful eyes," you warn her.

"How can I not? If you didn't want me to hate his guts, you shouldn't have told me what was happening with you and Mingyu. He's an ass!"

"He isn't," you roll your eyes. "I get him, really. It's fine. I never expected anything out of it in the first place."

"Liar," she calls you out. "I saw you when you were telling me about how he makes you feel. Which is even more of a reason for you to be mad at him. You can't just excuse him and act like what he said wasn't terrible. Who does he even think he is?" she huffs and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"Feel free to hate him all you want while I go take a shower, but I hope we aren't still talking about this when I come back so we can start getting ready."

"Yes, ma'am," she salutes, both of you laughing as you leave your bedroom to go to the bathroom at the other side of the hall.

As you stand in front of your mirror, Bora beside you, you feel happy for the first time in the last week. You feel pretty. Your hair falling in soft waves thanks to her help and your brown dress hugging your curves perfectly, you aren't his Blue tonight. You are just you. Your makeup turned out well as well, and you truly couldn't be more excited tonight.

Your cat, Snowy, seems to think the same as he rubs his head against your feet, all loving. You smile as you look at him before checking yourself again, making sure everything is perfect.

While deep down you don't think you look too different from your usual self, Bora certainly does. You are used to her hair being up and her clothes being sporty, so seeing her hair fall down the length of her arms and her body hugged by her purple dress is a blow. You already know Seungkwan will be falling to his knees when he sees her. She is perfect.

"Girls! Let's go!" Your dad calls from downstairs just in time. Bora nudges your side, picking her purse from your desk. You do the same, quickly collecting your phone and wallet before heading with her down. Your dad is already waiting at the door, a smile on his face as he watches you walk the stairs with your friend.

You know organizing this ball with the rest of the staff was hard, so it's nice to see him so happy now. Grabbing your jacket from the hanger, you pull it over your shoulders. "Let's go," you encourage with a smile.

It's not too far from your home, so you all walk together, enjoying the fresh air. The walk back will be perfect for sobering up. You can't wait to get drunk tonight. To be honest, you've been needing it. You need to get some alcohol into your system and enjoy your night freely without wondering what Mingyu is doing or who he's dancing with.

You avoided his calls all week and only answered his messages briefly, so you are hoping to keep that up tonight as well and have fun without him. It'd be great if he'd only leave your head fully and you wouldn't be thinking about him all the time.

You swear you don't do it on purpose. One second you are focused on something and your head is empty, but then you breathe again and he is everywhere, annoying every inch of your mind. No matter where you look, you see him. One night without drowning in pain is all you ask for tonight.

Giving the worker in the dressing room your jacket, you step aside as soon as you are done, waiting for Bora and your dad. You take a look around in the meantime, admiring the decoration. Everything is in the team colors, and it looks amazing with the lights. Red and black line the walls, balloons attached anywhere they could put them and the music from the main hall playing in your ears even out here.

"It looks awesome!" Bora exclaims as soon as you are all together again.

"It truly is," you agree. "You guys did a great job with the decorations."

"It was all the club president," your dad shakes his head. "He made this all happen. I don't think we would have been able to restore this tradition without him."

You can't remember when the last ball organized by the basketball club happened. It was definitely when you were still little, barely paying attention to these things. You are glad they decided to start planning events like these again. You'll have to praise the president for his hard work when you see him later.

"Let's find out table," your dad encourages.

Nodding, both of you follow him into the main hall. "And drinks right after," Bora whispers into your ear, making you giggle. Who cares if Mingyu likes you or not when you have your girls you'll be spending tonight with?

You do. You care. You absolutely do. Because as soon as Seungkwan shows up, he steals Bora from you. They both assure you they don't mind hanging out with you — Bora keeps asking you to stay with them on the contrary — but you know when you are being a third wheel. You'll be happy if they just enjoy themselves. You don't need them to keep you occupied.

You find Dae shortly after, linking your arms with her instantly as she leads you towards the bar, offering to buy the first drink. You don't tell her it's already your second one, grinning as she hands you a shot glass. You grimace as the liquid goes down your throat. Dae has a similar expression, settling the glass down on the bar again.

"Let's dance!"

"I'm not drunk enough for that," you shake your head no, making her roll her eyes.

"Just say you want another drink, no need to find excuses."

You giggle softly, "anything but what we just had please."

You stay near the bar with her, talking about anything that comes to mind while drinking together. You're both just mostly complaining about school, the other nodding in understanding. The only difference between your usual hangouts is the music playing in your ears.

"Have you told her yet about the terrible physics assigment we have for next week?" You look up when you hear Jake's voice as he joins Dae's side. She groans at just the mention of it, making you laugh. "What are you guys drinking?" He wonders, looking at the empty glasses in your hands. You were so busy talking you didn't have time to order another one yet.

"Are you buying?" You raise an eyebrow in question.

"No, but I'm sure you guys can just wink at Seungcheol and you'll have your drinks for the rest of the night secured," he smiles. "You both look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," you and Dae chant in union, smile spreading on your lips. "You don't look too bad yourself," Dae shrugs and he fixes his tuxedo, suppressing his grin.

You shake your head at him, looking around the room to find the rest of his teammates. Seungcheol is standing with Jeonghan and Heeseung in the line, chatting about something as they wait for their turn to order. "Shall we try our luck?" You nudge Dae's shoulder, her eyes following your line of sight.

You leave Jake behind for now, making your way past the crowd to reach your new favorite players. To be fair, you think that'll be anyone who buys you drinks tonight. As long as that someone isn't Kim Mingyu. In that case, the person buying you drinks won't be your favorite. Not that you plan on letting him buy you any tonight either way. The only plan you have for tonight is to keep avoiding him and forget all about the pain you feel when you think about him with alcohol.

Heeseung whistles as soon as the two of you come into his sight, his two older teammates turning around instantly. Jeonghan offers you a warm smile while Seungcheol's eyes take their time taking all of Dae in. You have to fight back the urge to tell her you were absolutely right about him looking at her differently. While Seungcheol is known to be a flirt, getting girls anywhere he goes, there is a difference in the way he looks at them and your friend.

"Let me see a spin," he grins, raising his hands in the air for the two of you to hold and spin under. You brush him off, shaking your head. It makes him roll his eyes, but both of you know it doesn't mean anything. Just like you know it's not actually both of you he wants to see from the back. Dae doesn't give into his tactics either though, blinking at him innocently as she covers her ass with her hands and slowly turns around. All he can see is her hair, but he doesn't seem to mind that either. "Beautiful as always. The both of you."

"Think you can manage to keep it in your pants tonight, Choi?" Your eyes close shut at the familiar voice. You refuse to look his way, but even then you know there is a beautiful man towering over you.

Seungcheol raises his hands in defense, a lazy smile on his lips. "I was just about to buy them a drink. You don't possibly have anything against that, do you?"

There is a moment of silence before Mingyu grumbles a whatever, cutting in line and finding his place behind Heeseung. You don't acknowledge his presence, standing with your back facing him as you ask Seungcheol for a drink. You catch his eyes flickering between you and Mingyu in a question but you ignore it, pulling Dae into the chat instead.

As soon as you get your drink, you leave the group, heading towards Joshua, Seokmin and Jake, who you catch leaning against one of the tables. Dae follows you, leaving the four guys behind. Avoiding Mingyu means having to avoid some of his teammates at times as well, no matter how much you want to hang out with them.

"Your idea worked," you raise your glass for Jake to see, catching his attention as you join their table.

"Didn't even need to show him my ass," Dae smiles, making you chuckle at the memory of her spinning. "I call that a win."

"No idea why we got blessed like this but I'm glad we did," Seokmin grins, ear to ear.

"Where do you have Hansol and Riki? They are the only ones I didn't see yet," you wonder, looking around the place to prove your point.

"I haven't seen Hansol since we came either," Joshua shrugs.

"Who I've seen though," Jake starts, the smirk on his face telling you he knows something, "is Riki."

"He's with a girl, isn't he?" Dae reads right through him and Jake nods as he takes a sip of his drink. "I think I caught a glimpse of him before."

"He started talking to a girl as soon as we arrived. He wanted to dance and it worked. I left him then because I didn't want to third wheel," Jake explains. You immediately reach your hand to him, offering him a fist bump, saying you understand that quite well. "You know you don't need to third wheel tonight, though, right?"

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, your eyebrow raised.

"I'm pretty sure there is a guy who is dying to talk to you," Jake points somewhere behind you and you turn around, your eyes widening when you see the group you left earlier. They are in the middle of a conversation and somehow, it's you who Mingyu has his eyes set on. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you quickly avert your eyes.

"We should go dance. You still want to dance, right Dae?"

She nods to your question and you look at the guys hopefully, needing to get out of here. "I'm not risking that," Seokmin shakes his head as he looks at you, his eyes flickering to who you can only assume to be Mingyu. "Seungcheol I'll gladly rile up, though. May I?" He extends his hand towards your friend, palm up. She giggles at his smile, holding his hand in hers and letting him pull her towards the dance floor.

"Guys," you plea, glancing between Jake and Joshua. They lock eyes together, neither one looking like they plan to dance with you tonight.

Jake meets your eyes again, debating what he should do. He is one of your closest friends and you'd like to think he won't let you down like this, but judging by his expression, you can't tell for sure. "Okay, wait here. I'll get you someone who doesn't have anything to lose by dancing with you."

"And what do you have to lose?" You grumble, annoyed. He is already gone, though.

"Don't take it to heart, please," Joshua offers you a comforting smile. "It's not like you did anything wrong, but we don't want to be the ones delivering the final blow. I'm not sure what happened between the two of you," he hesitates for a second, looking at the rest of his teammates, "but Mingyu has been ticked off since you stopped talking to him. It just feels like we are waiting for a bomb to go off."

You blink at him confusedly, your brows furrowing together. "And why would dancing with me have anything to do with it?"

Joshua gives you a knowing look, telling you you know exactly why that's connected. You open your mouth to argue and tell him that it's stupid, but no words come out. Thankfully, you don't have to look at his pitiful expression anymore though, your attention drifting away when you feel someone's hand settle on your lower back. You instantly relax when you see Seungcheol and Jake standing behind you, blinking up at them curiously.

"I told you I'd find you someone who doesn't fear the consequences," Jake shrugs when he meets your eyes.

"They are exaggerating," Seungcheol rolls his eyes.

"Thank you! I think so too," you nod.

Jake and Joshua exchange a look again but you don't pay it any attention, asking Cheol if he wants to dance with you. "I thought you wouldn't ask," he laughs, offering you his arm and tugging you away.

The music is loud in your ears as you sway your hips in the rhythm, laughing. Unlike Jake and Joshua, Seungcheol doesn't make you feel weird about the situation at all, acting as if nothing happened. He makes you laugh and forget about everything, doing exactly what you wished for tonight. You don't think about anything, only focusing on the man in front of you.

Seungcheol's arms stay on you, whether it's on your waist or simply holding your hands in his. You don't mind, barely noticing the touch. It doesn't feel like anything unusual or what you should be paying attention to. The two of you are friends after all.

You keep inching towards him due to the group of guys dancing behind you, trying your best to get further away from them so you wouldn't be bumping your ass into them every time you move. With the amount of space behind Seungcheol, there isn't much to do, the two of you naturally ending up close. You don't think anything of it, but Mingyu certainly can't say the same.

It's one thing for you to avoid him at all cost, but it's a completely different one to be climbing his friend's body while he is forced to watch from afar.

When Jake came to their group, wrapping his arms around Seungcheol while trying his hardest not to make eye contact with Mingyu, he already knew something was wrong. Turns out, everything was wrong. When Jake asked if Cheol would mind dancing with you because you are looking for someone who'd take you for a spin, he wanted nothing more than to interrupt their conversation and say he'll dance with you. Before he could, Seungcheol agreed and left with the younger one, leaving him there with Jeonghan and Heeseung.

Having to watch Seungcheol take your hand in his and lead you towards the dance floor has to have been one of the worst things he's had to see. Well, turns out it wasn't. Watching you actually dance with him and letting him touch you however he wants is much worse.

Gripping the glass of beer in his hands, he keeps his eyes on the two of you, completely ignoring the conversation Jeonghan and Heeseung are having beside him. He honestly could not care less about the training schedules in the upcoming week.

It hurt seeing Seungcheol take your hand and dance with you, but he could live with that. He could bear watching you dance with Seungcheol because you were having fun, and he would never wish to take away your fun. But now, you are just forced to squeeze together with him because the guys around you are being asses and he is sure it's making you uncomfortable.

So, logically speaking, he isn't ruining your fun anymore if you are already uncomfortable.

Plus, he really hates the sight of you and Seungcheol together. Somehow, he thinks if it was Jake in his place, he wouldn't care so much. Maybe because of the amount of times you made it clear to him there is nothing going on between you and Jake. He liked seeing you convince him so eagerly.

Seungcheol's hand slides down your back, resting dangerously low. There is a lazy grin on his lips as he talks to you, and it's the first time he's wanted to beat up his friend so bad. He can't see your expression since you are standing with your back to him, but he can see his friend's hand and that's all he needs. Even if he might be destroying your fun, he'll manage. He'll take whatever you throw his way, whether it may be your screams or punches. He'd much rather have you yell his ears off than continue watching you and his friends climb each other. At least then you'd be talking to him.

"Here, have this," he mumbles, handing his beer to Jeonghan. "I'm not drinking anymore."

Mingyu doesn't wait for his friends' response, not giving a damn if they are watching him or not as he makes his way through the dancing crowd, needing to get to you.

"Hey," he interrupts your giggles, his blood boiling for some reason at the idea of you laughing at something Seungcheol said. Both of you look his way, your big eyes staring right into his. It makes him feel a bit better about the situation for a moment, at least until you avert your eyes again. He wishes you'd look at him for longer than two seconds just once. He's been watching all night, unable to take his eyes off. It'd be nice to know you watch him too.

"Hey," Seungcheol slowly drops his hands to his side, wrapping one around Mingyu's shoulder. Mingyu sends him a glare, not playing with him at all. He snickers when he sees the serious look on Mingyu's face, taking his hand away again. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu ignores him completely, only looking at you. "It's late, Blue."

You swallow hard upon hearing his voice, closing your eyes as if that'd magically make him disappear. Spoiler alert: it does not. "We should go home."

You frown, meeting his eyes. "We," you point between the two of you, "aren't going anywhere. I'm dancing if you haven't noticed. So if I'm going anywhere with anyone, it's Seungcheol."

"Blue," it comes out as a warning, only making you feel worse. He has no right to talk to you right now. He has no right to command what you do and who you do it with.

"I'm not going anywhere," you state, redirecting your attention to Seungcheol. "Plus, why do you even care?" you huff, resting your arms around Seungcheol's shoulders.

Mingyu's annoyance only grows. Pulling your hand away from the older man, he forces you to look at him again. As soon as he notices the look in your eyes he loosens his grip, allowing your hand to slip away. Fuck. He found another thing he hates more than being forced to watch you be so close with someone else. He absolutely despises how you look at him right now, like he is hurting you.

"Leave me alone, Mingyu," you beg him.

"Please just come with me, Blue," he pleads in return, completely forgetting about Seungcheol beside him. All he sees is you, everything else blurred together and forgotten.

"I don't want to," you whisper, your voice strained as you shake your head.

"Love," he tries again, desperate. His eyes widen as soon as he realizes what he just said, yours not doing any better. He shocks the both of you, but it seems to work as you slowly offer him your hand. He doesn't hesitate for a second, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you away, as far from everyone as possible.

He only stops once you are standing outside and you slip your hand away again, hiding it behind your back. "I was having fun," you mumble, staring at the ground beneath your feet. "Do you hate me so much? Is that what this is about?"

"I don't like you having fun with Seungcheol of all people."

"Then let me go have fun with someone else!" You look up, locking eyes with him. You hate this conversation with every inch of your being, and you're sure it shows in your expression. You just want to go back and pretend this never happened, that you didn't just give in to him so easily again after everything. You were doing so good. So good. But he just had to ruin it again. He had to remind you he exists. "Since you can't even look at me all night, so why do you even give a fuck?"

"I wasn't able to look anywhere but at you tonight," he corrects you.

"Stop lying to me, dammit! I'm going back there, I'm having a drink, and I don't care if you like it or not!" You huff, turning around on your heel. You don't get a chance to walk away, though, his hand wrapping around your wrist and stopping you. It only takes him one swift tug to pull you flush into him, your hands landing right on his chest to stop yourself from falling.

"Please don't go," he begs again, his voice getting more and more desperate each time. You hate that you know it's coming from his heart, that he needs you to stay here with him and talk to him again. "Can't you just like me for the night, Blue?"

You'd like to blame it on the drinks you had tonight. You'd like to say you're hallucinating things by this point and this entire conversation is just a figment of your imagination, but you know damn well it's not. It's not even the alcohol in his system speaking and making him do dumb things. You hate him. You hate how easy it is for him to make you feel like this. Like you are on cloud nine.

You're lucky he can't see your face. Your cheeks are flushed, and most definitely not because of the liquor you had. You like him much more than he realizes, and you hate that as well. It'd be a lot easier if you knew how to pretend like you don't care, like you don't feel happiness when you are with him, and like his words don't effect you. But truth is, it never sucked more than in the past week when you were repeating his words in your head over and over again.

"Aren't you the one who doesn't have time for relationships?" You mumble. "Who would never date his coach's little daughter because it's not worth it?" You feel his arms stiffen on your back, the realization of what your anger is about settling in. You try hitting his chest, hoping to get him to answer, but your punch comes out more like a gentle nudge.

Tightening his hold, he embraces you in a warm hug. Pulling away from you, just enough to see you better, you are forced to look up at him, your eyes watery. "Is this what's been troubling you?" He asks, his voice gentle. He cups your face, his thumbs slowly stroking your cheeks. "What I said to the guys in the locker room?" He sighs heavily, every regret he felt in the past week regarding you in that little exhale. "I was stupid to think I could ever push aside my feelings towards you and focus on anything but those beautiful eyes of yours."

"Blue, my blue," he continues, refusing to break eye contact with you again. "This past week when you were ignoring me? Was so much worse for me than anything else I ever had to go through. I could not go a single minute without thinking about you, wondering what you are up to, and if someone else gets to enjoy your attention instead."

"That week fucking sucked," you complain.

A tiny smile appears on his lips, "Yeah," he agrees with a nod, his eyes dropping to your lips. "I'm sorry for being an idiot. I'm sorry you had to doubt anything and that I wasn't the one dancing with you tonight. But most importantly, I'm sorry for not realizing how important you are to me sooner." He finished his speech by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You melt in his touch instantly, the softness of his lips on yours helping you forget about everything that was bothering you until now.

It's the first time a kiss makes you feel like this — as if the world peace just happened. It's the happiest you've been in a long time, and you cannot express how grateful you are it's with Mingyu of all people. You did think about the slim chance of going home with someone later tonight, but truth is, you couldn't bring yourself to smile at the idea of anyone other than him having you like this.

Mingyu cradles your jaw, tilting your head for a better access. You slowly glide your hands up from his chest, wrapping them around his neck. It's the best kiss you've ever had. Maybe because it's the one you've felt the most during. Jungkook was nice, but he could never compare to how much you love Mingyu.

"Don't go up there again," he whispers against your lips, only to kiss you again. "Stay here with me."

"It's cold here," you tease him, knowing you'd stay anywhere with him right now.

"I'll warm you up," he promises, his hands moving from your face down to your back, feeling your curves before resting on your ass, giving it a squeeze as his lips meet yours again. He needs to get in all the kisses he missed out on by convincing himself you were nothing more than a friend he cared deeply about. He doesn't think it'll be a problem. He is getting addicted to you already, unable to let you go. As much as he loves kissing you, though, he pulls back again. "Please."

You don't answer him right away, looking up at him. He's truly beautiful from up close. Have you mentioned that yet? You don't think you say it enough. The mole on his nose, the brown of his eyes, the lips, he is the definition of perfect. "I can't just leave," you sigh. "I came here with my dad, remember? He'll be looking for me."

"Can we please not talk about my coach while I'm getting hard," he groans, throwing his head back and exposing his Adam's apple. Oh yeah, he is gorgeous.

Your eyes drop down to his crotch, not even hiding it as you gaze at the boner. Oh-oh. "Oh yeah, let's not talk about him," you shake your head.

"My eyes are up here, Blue," he reminds you.

You nod, "I know where your eyes are, Mingyu."

His chuckle bubbles in your ears as he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Please, baby. Stay with me just for tonight. Tell your dad you'll stay with Dae and be with me. Let me catch up on what I missed."

Meeting his eyes again, you nod this time. Honestly, you want nothing more than to go with him. Not only because your core is aching now thanks to the outline you got to see through his dress pants, but also because you've been longing for this — to be able to be with Mingyu as more than friends. You want to kiss him all night long, cuddle until you fall asleep, and wake up with him still in the bed. You want to do all the domestic things couples do when they are in love.

A part of you also thinks you need to fully believe it's not just the heat of the moment for him. You need to see it happen with your own eyes before you truly believe there is a future and he won't change his mind later again, remembering where his priorities lay.

"My jacket and purse are still up there," you tell him and he nods instantly.

"I'll get them."

"I can go for it," you argue but he just pins you down with his look, showing you there is no way you are going anywhere right now.

"Please just stay here and look pretty for me, hm? I'll get it. I'll be out before you can start missing me."

That's not possible. You miss him all the time, even when he is right there with you. You don't tell him that, though. You need to keep his ego in check a little, take your time before you show him just how much you love him.

"Mingyu," you call as he jogs away towards the entrance. He turns to face you, his eyes finding yours curiously. "Don't let other girls see that boner, will you?"

He laughs, a sound so pretty you want to keep listening to it. "That's only for you, my love." He adjusts his clothes to prove his point before disappearing inside. You watch the door close behind him, his words echoing in your ears. Tonight will be a long night.

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

You are quite certain your driver hates you. Mingyu managed to not only grab your things, but also call a taxi and find Dae to beg her to cover for you. As he told you, she was dancing with Seungcheol at that moment, so he also had to apologize to him, only for him to brush him off and focus on the girl holding his forearms again. You told him you were glad Cheol got some sense and asked her for a dance as well, which only lead to Mingyu kissing you all over again because he didn't like you talking so much about his friend.

Jealousy looks good on him. So good.

Kissing him back, you held his hand on top of your thigh the entire ride, trying to ground yourself as to not ask him to fuck you right then and there in front of the driver. That'd be embarrassing.

But truth be, you wanted nothing more but.

Mingyu leads you inside his apartment, kicking his shoes off as soon as he steps inside. You bent down to undo your own heels, but he stops you before you can. Blinking up at him, you watch him confusedly before he hooks his hand around your waist and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder as if you don't weigh anything. A yelp escapes your lips, a disbelieving laugh following right after as you frantically look over his apartment. His hands are wrapped around your thighs as he holds you in place, a clear goal in his mind.

You only get off him once you are in the bedroom, your back hitting the softness of his mattress. Prompting yourself up on your elbows, you watch him from his bed. It's the one place you dreamed about a lot before. It's so much better than you imagined, though. You're not sure if it's on purpose, or if he even realizes it, but his sheets are navy, his room decor matching it. His walls are white, lined with all kinds of pictures and posters of basketball players. If you were to explain his room in two words, you'd use blue and basketball. Your smile grows. It suits him.

Just like the suit he is wearing does. God. As he stands in front of the bed, his hair messy from when you ran your fingers through it as you kissed him in the car, you are unable to look away. "Why am I in my shoes still?" You tilt your head without breaking eye contact.

"Because they look so fucking good on you I need to look a bit more." He doesn't hide how hungry he is as his eyes scan your whole, from your ankles up to your face.

"They are uncomfortable, though," you complain and he doesn't hesitate any longer, climbing onto the bed to you, bending your knees and forcing them up. The bottom of your dress covers your view of him, making you frown. "Mingyu," you call, wanting to see him.

He hums, bringing one of your feet to himself, slowly undoing the heel and slipping it off. You stretch your leg out, clearing your view again. Pressing your foot to his chest, you watch as he wraps his hand around your ankle before dipping under the hem of your dress. He caresses your calf, eyes gazing into yours. Following the same process, he gets your other shoe off as well, releasing you of the pain.

"You look stunning tonight. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," he presses a kiss to your ankle, looking up at you. You bite back a moan at the sight, shaking your head. "I should have done so many things earlier, I'm sorry."

You don't get a chance to answer before he is scooping you up and pulling you onto himself with ease, putting you right where he wants. This time a moan escapes you as you crash your lips with his, stranding his lap. He groans at your reaction, gripping your ass tightly and helping you roll your hips forward. "I'll make it up to you," he promises softly — a completely different feeling from how hard he grips your flesh. "I'll be so good to you."

His name falls off your lips as you rock your hips on top of him, chasing the well needed friction. "That's it, baby. Take what you need," he coos, lowering his lips to your shoulder. Brushing one of the straps holding your dress off, he replaces the fabric with his lips, pressing kisses to your skin. He needs to focus on something else. But it's hard when you moan into his ear so prettily. If it continues like this, he might as well come in his pants from how you ride his clothed erection.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him away from your neck so you can look at him. His big eyes stare right into yours, nothing but want behind them. "So beautiful," he praises, pressing his lips to yours. He buckles your dress at your hips, sliding his hands under and gripping your ass again. His fingers toy with your thong, pulling on the fabric and making you moan. "Please tell me you wore this for me," he groans.

You nod frantically. Even though you didn't expect to end up here when you were getting ready, a part of you has been dressing in hopes of him getting to see for a while now. You'd like to convince yourself you wore it so no line would be shows on your dress, but that's not the only truth. If it were, you wouldn't have worn any panties at all.

Maybe that's what you should have went with actually. Right now, as your thong gets soaked in your wetness, definitely leaving a stain on his pants as well, you wish you would be bare.

His name leaves your lips in a desperate plea. You're not sure what exactly it is you are begging for, but you need him. In any way he gives you. He tilts his head, a teasing smirk on his lips. "What do you need, baby? Use your words."

"Need to come," you answer immediately, rocking your hips forward. It's not enough, though. You need more. "Can you please help me," you whine, your head falling to his shoulder, "Please, just this once."

He doesn't need to hear more, throwing you back onto the bed, a needy whine escaping you when you lose the friction entirely. He takes a second to take you in again, your dress bucked up at your hips and your lower half covered in only your soaked panties and stockings. He's going to lose his mind soon. Your messy hair sprawled all over his pillow, your cunt soaked because of him, your lips chanting his name, what could be better?

Settling himself between your legs, he spreads them apart, taking a good look at your pussy. It's embarrassing, your cheeks heating up. You feel hot all over, a shiver running down your spine as he rubs your clit with his thumb. "Just so we are clear," he tugs at the fabric of your stockings harshly, ripping it apart. "We aren't doing this 'just this once'," he states firmly. "I don't think I'll ever get you out of my system again."

You try to cover your pussy with your hands when he tugs at your thong, the fabric sliding between your folds. It's no use though, Mingyu simply shaking his head at your attempt before taking your hands away with his free one. He pins them above your head, taking the opportunity to kiss you again before lowering himself. "Be a good girl and hold them there, will you? I'll make you feel good in return." He waits for your agreement, watching as your nod eagerly.

Smirking, he hooks his fingers in your thong again, pulling it to the side this time. You can feel his breath on your throbbing clit, your hips thrusting forward on instincts. "Tell me what you like, Blue," he prompts as he gives a soft kiss to your clit. "How do you touch yourself?"

When he doesn't move again, waiting for your answer, you open your mouth. "Slow rubs at first," you mumble, raising your head to see him better. He presses two of his fingers to your clit, doing as you tell him. Fuck. It feels way better like this. You are convinced he can read your mind because he is doing exactly what you always do.

"How about here?" He circles your hole with his thumb, looking up to see your reaction. "Do you ever finger yourself?"

"Sometimes," you moan.

He hums back, replacing his fingers with his tongue, licking slow circles around it while his fingers nudge you open. He thrusts two digits inside, curving them in hopes to find your sweet spot. "God," you gasp instantly, clenching around his fingers at the pleasure.

"Not my name," he shakes his head slightly, his lips wrapping around the bundle of nerves and sucking, speeding his movements at the same time. Your head falls back, your back arching off the bed. It feels too good. Your orgasm quickly builds up, your moans filling the room. The sound is a pleasure to his ears, his cock twitching in his pants every time he feels you clench around his fingers or your hips thrust up against him. It's not an exaggeration when he says you're the best pussy he's ever eaten, every inch of his body craving more. If he could, he'd have you laid out on his bed like this forever, eating you as every course of the day.

Your hands shoot to his hair, keeping him close as you feel your orgasm approaching, needing to find that release. He let's you ride his face, his fingers still thrusting into you. It's only when you finish with a loud moan, your legs shaking around him, that he pulls them out, licking them clean while looking at you. "I was going to tell you how fucking good you taste, but where are your hands, baby?" You whine as you quickly pull them away, pinning them above your head, exactly like he put them before. "And to think I had plans with you," he shakes his head, trying to sound disappointed. "But girls who don't listen shouldn't get a reward, should they?"

You whine, shaking your head. You're not sure why, if you're trying to agree or argue with him. His voice makes you wet all over again, the fact you just came doing nothing to stop how much you want him. "Please, Mingyu," you beg, desperate to get more, just one more orgasm. "I'll be good. I'll be such a good girl for you."

Oh fuck me — is the only thing Mingyu can think about as he looks at you, his eyes rolling back as he listens to you. It's safe to say he is addicted. How could he not be? He seriously believes everyone who let you go before was an idiot, as much as he appreciates they did because now he gets to be the one seeing you like this. His Blue. Oh how he loves the sound of that. "How could I ever say no to you?"

Finally taking off your clothes fully, you lay in front of him naked, your eyes glued to him as he stands in front of the bed, undoing his tie. You've never seen anything more attractive. Dipping your hand between your legs, you rub your clit slowly. His eyes fall down to your hand instantly, enjoying the view as he takes off the rest of his clothes, peeling off layer by layer.

He takes his time, teasing you while you desperately finger yourself in a poor attempt to reach your orgasm again. It doesn't feel as good as when he did it, though. Your fingers don't feel like enough, sad whines leaving your lips. "Oh, baby," he coos, joining you on the bed. "Do you want one more that badly?" You nod, unable to answer with words.

You take your chance as soon as he is close enough, your free hand reaching for him, wrapping around his cock. You had no doubt he'll be big but getting to feel him for yourself makes it so much better. Rubbing your thumb over his tip, you blink up at him to see his reaction. "Blue, if you want me to fuck you tonight you need to stop or I'll come before learning how it feels like to have you on my cock."

Your eyes roll back at his words, your hand not doing anything to stop. You jerk him off slowly, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring him even closer. "My needy little girl," he shakes his head, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You stop moving your hand, only holding him now before he takes your hand in his and brings them up. "Play with your boobs for me."

Listening to him, you pinch your nipples with your fingers. "You're so beautiful," he praises, kissing your cheek before moving down. He presses a kiss to your neck, to your breast, to your arm, to your belly, even to your thigh. He doesn't kiss where you need him the most, though, only teasing your further. He wraps his hand around his length, slapping his tip against your clit a few times. His eyes flicker between your pussy, to your chest, and then your face, trying to remember everything about this moment as well as he can.

"Mingyu, please," you cry, squeezing your boobs while thrusting your hips forward. Chuckling, he reaches into his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the first drawer. Your quickly wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him before he can open the wrap. "I'm, uh, I am clean. I haven't been with many people before. I'm not on birth control but I could," you avert your eyes from him, embarrassed now that you started talked. "I could get the after pill in the morning. If you want."

"Are you sure?" His eyes widen, his hand holding your chin instantly and making you look at him. "There is no pressure here," he assures you. "I'm perfectly fine with a condom."

You shake your head, biting your lower lip nervously. "I want to feel you."

"Fuck," he groans, throwing the condom somewhere on the floor as he steals a kiss from you again. "I've never fucked without one before," he whispers between kisses, absolutely drunk on you.

"But you would with me?"

"My love, you are the only girl I'd want to feel bare," he proclaims, aligning himself properly without breaking the kiss. You feel his tip slide into you, your mouth falling open at the sudden stretch. "I got you," he promises softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face while slowly thrusting into you.

He takes his time, not wanting to rush anywhere. You feel incredible.

You think the same way, your eyes rolling back as your walls wrap around his cock, feeling every one of his veins. You're starting to understand why people don't use condoms. You never imagined you'd go without one, considering you aren't on the pill, but you wouldn't change it for anything now that you know what it's like. If there is anyone you'd risk it for, it's Kim Mingyu either way.

His left hand slides down your sides, feeling every inch of your body. You are sweating, but so is he. "I love these curves," he tells you, squeezing any flesh he can find. "I love these lips," he kisses you to prove his point. "This brain of yours, these hands, this soul, this fucking pussy," he thrusts into you harshly, groaning at the same time. "God, I love you, Blue."

Your back arches from the bed, your moans growing louder. You don't think you can tell him now, not even sure if he means what he says at the moment, but it's exactly how you feel. You definitely love him, there is no questioning that. You'll tell him another time for sure. You'll tell him exactly how much he means to you once your mind isn't fully occupied by his dick.

You run your hands down his back, leaving your prints as you slide your hands down until you get to his ass, holding it as he thrusts into you. "I'm going to spill all over you," he groans between thrusts, his movements becoming sloppy as he gets close to his orgasm. "Fill you up so nicely, hm?"

"Yes," you gasp, nodding frantically. The idea itself makes your head spin, and while you are in no way ready to have a baby and definitely will get the pill in the morning, Mingyu filling you up with his cum just made it to the top of your to do list. Your heels dig into his lower back, making it impossible for him to pull away — which you both know he doesn't want to do anyway.

"Get you pregnant," he moans at the thought, caressing your belly with his hand, feeling himself thrust into you. "Fuck, you'd look so good with my baby."

"You want to put a baby in me?" You blink at him prettily, rolling your hips forward to reach your orgasm as well. He curses under his breath, claiming your lips in his. He doesn't need to say it because you can see it in his eyes that the answer is absolutely yes. God, how you'd love to have his kid in a few years. "So close," you moan as he pulls back, feeling your orgasm approaching.

"Me too, love," he tells you, running his hand down to your clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bundle to help you.

It doesn't take much longer for the two of you to come together, Mingyu's cum covering your inside white just like he said he would. You're so fully, your breath heavy as you ride out your high. He lets you, holding you through it before pulling out, running his fingers through his hair to get the sweaty stands off his face.

"You did so well," he praises with a smile on his face, kissing you so lovingly you fall for him all over again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you keep him close as you kiss him back, melting into his sheets. "Let's get you washed up, hm?" He nudges his nose with yours. You don't think words could ever express how he makes you feel. He makes sure all the doubts you could possibly have are gone, his gentle touch and words grounding you in the exact way you need.

You nod to him and he scoops you up with ease, one of his hands under your thighs and the other holding your back. Wrapping your arms around him, you hold onto him tightly while he carries you into his bathroom, sitting you on the edge while setting the temperature. "I'll get you some clothes. The water is warm enough so you can get in if you want. I'll be right back here." You nod, watching his naked butt as he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind himself to prevent the warmth from escaping.

You take a look around his bathroom, around his products in the shower and the interior, smiling. It's exactly how you expected. No three-in-one shampoos or questionable laundry products but genuinely good stuff instead, fragrances and everything organized. You wonder if he realizes his towel is also blue. Chuckling, you turn around on the edge of his tub, slowly getting in. You let the water fill it up slowly, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax.

When the door opens again, Mingyu is still naked. Holding a shirt and a pair of his boxers in one hand, he loads the washer with his dirty sheets with the other one. You watch him from the comfort of his tub, leaning your chin on your arm. He's got an incredible body. Broad shoulders, pretty back, pretty ass and legs. He is absolutely perfect. He smiles at you, his grin full of genuine happiness. Returning his smile, you scoot forward to make space for him, waiting for him to join you.

He sits behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. You lean back against him, closing your eyes again. "Thank you for being so great," you whisper into the silence.

He shakes his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Mingyu helps you wash your hair as well as clean your whole body off, his touch nothing but gentle. He kisses you all over, whispering praises from the bottom of his heart. He wraps you in one of his shirts as soon as you're dried off, not wanting you to get cold. It's big on you, enough for it to be the only thing you could wear, but you reach for his boxers as well either way. He looks like a little boy who just got his birthday present when he looks at you in his clothes, needing to hold back not to take you all over again in his bathroom. He has to remind himself he'll have more time for that later, helping you sit on his washer instead so he could dry your hair.

The sheets are already changed when you leave the bathroom again — the reason he took a while before joining you in the bathroom, you assume. There are still blue, though, and it makes you smile. Falling into his bed, you feel on cloud nine instantly. He joins your side, letting you lay on his arm while he hugs you with the other one, embracing you in a hug. His blanket is warm enough to make sure you don't get cold during the night, but you can't say you would complain about his way of keeping you warm. Resting your head against his chest, you fall asleep to the soft sound of his breath, already looking forward to the next days you'll be spending together.

You love your boyfriend. You haven't been able to tell him yet, but you absolutely do. And now, seeing the flowers in your hands, you are sure to tell him the next time you see him.

There weren't any questions or doubts about where the two of you stood the day after the ball, Mingyu apologizing all over again in the morning over breakfast before asking you if you'd be his girlfriend. You couldn't say no even if you wanted to. He got you flowers as he walked you home later that afternoon, forcing you to come up with a bunch of excuses when your dad saw you holding a bouquet of tulips.

It's been a month since then, and it's now the third bouquet you received. It's lilies this time around, and they are absolutely beautiful. He had them delivered to you shortly before his training, after your dad was already out of the house thankfully. You have not been able to stop smiling since then, rereading the messages he sent you before he needed to go.

Who knew a twenty-eight year old could be so sappy? He is adorable, acting like a teen in love for the first time at times. But those moments are often quickly suppressed by him reminding you he is older after all, taking care of you in any and every way before you can even realize you're in need of something. From checking on you all throughout the day and sending you food when you don't have the time to make something for yourself, to making as much free time as possible for you. You see each other often, but it still doesn't feel like enough.

You sometimes just lay in his bed, studying, while he does his work out, or the two of you go out together, taking a stroll around as a form of break. He always knows what you need, and you're incredibly grateful to him for that. You haven't been able to see each other in the past week at all due to your schedule crash, but it's okay. You can't possibly complain when he is so in love he just sent you flowers just because he could.

Replacing your old peonies with the lilies on your bedside table, you smile before resting in your bed with your study materials, ready to dive into work again.

It's shortly past eleven when your phone starts blowing up. Frowning, you almost kick your cat off your bed as you turn around to shut it down. You were just about to fall asleep, finally in the right position, but someone just needed to make your night worse.

Or in this case, actually, better.

You peek one eye open to see if it's anything important, blinking confusedly at the bunch of messages and missed calls from Mingyu. You sit up straight, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands before looking at your phone again. You don't even read what he said, immediately dialing his number to see what's going on.

It rings twice before it stops and his voice comes through, "Come open the door so I don't have to climb through the window like some fucking teenager."

You blink confusedly, his words slowly turning around in your head until they clock together. "You're here?"

"Not reading my texts anymore? Is this the 'I hate my boyfriend' I've seen around?"

"No!" You quickly shake your head as if he could see you, quickly getting from your bed. You don't bother sliding on your slippers, rushing out of your room barefoot. Snowy looks up to see what you're doing but doesn't follow you downstairs, staying in your bed.

Mingyu laughs on the other side of the phone while you run down the stairs, doing your best to stay quiet and not wake up your dad. You open the door, finally exhaling as you look at your boyfriend standing outside. His eyes trail down your figure, his smile widening as he takes the sight of you in. He hangs up the call without averting his eyes from you, enjoying the view you provided him.

It's only then that you realize what you're wearing — a baby blue tank with lacy lines and matching shorts. You clear your throat, stepping aside so he could walk in. "What are you doing here?" You wonder, covering your chest by crossing your arms over it.

He raises a questioning brow at that. "You do remember the fact I saw you with less on, right?"

"That's different, though," you mumble and he shakes his head.

"Would you rather I take it off then?" He crosses the space between you, closing the door on his way. Not waiting for your answer, he cups your cheek and presses his lips to yours in a greeting. "Hi."

"Hi," you smile. "I was just about to fall asleep. I almost didn't even know you were here."

"It's eleven," he states, as if you weren't already aware of that.

You shrug, "I was tired."

"I'm sorry for keeping you up," he finds another excuse to kiss you. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," you kiss him back, your hands falling down to your sides again before lacing with his. "Are you going to stay with me?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Always," you assure him.

Leading him upstairs again, you keep your hands locked as you walk through the hall. You are quick to lock your bedroom door just in case, not taking any chances. It feels weird sneaking around like this when you are a grown adult, but it's the only option you see at the moment. You don't want to be explaining to your dad you are dating his player just yet.

"There's my little guy," Mingyu lets go of your hand as soon as his eyes land on your cat sprawled out on your bed. You watch him lovingly as he pets his head, rubbing the top of his head. Snowy isn't the biggest people loving cat, and often takes time to warm up to others, so seeing him lean into Mingyu's touch makes you smile. It may be because of how tired he is, but you like thinking it's because he knows Mingyu is a good guy. "Were you keeping my girl company while I was busy? Yeah?"

"He seems to like you," you whisper, wrapping your hands around his waist from behind.

"Your family seems to do that, yes," he grins.

"Don't ruin it for yourself."

"I couldn't." Turning around, he stands face to face with you again, sitting on the edge of your bed and resting his hands on your sides. You stand between his spread legs, cupping his face as you gaze into his eyes. "Hi," he smiles again.

"Hi," you smile back, leaning down to give him a kiss. It's tender and sweet, conveying exactly how you feel having him in your room.

Mingyu's hands slide under your tank, needing to feel your skin on his fingers. You let him, melting into his touch instantly. You seem to do that a lot. In return, you slide your hands under his shirt as well. Unlike him, though, you take the fabric off, dropping it to the ground. "Take your pants off."

His smile turns teasing, his hands dropping to the waistband of his pants without a second of hesitation. "Do I get to see you naked in return or is it only you having fun tonight?" He pushes the pants to the floor and you roll your eyes.

You don't answer him, walking around him to the other side of the bed. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you walk, your smile growing. You lift the covers, sliding under them without another word, ready to go to sleep. Snowy gets up at the same time, looking offended as he jumps down. You chuckle at his reaction. You barely brushed him as you got into the bed, but he seems to have taken that as a hint to get off either way.

"That was mean," Mingyu complains, and you're not sure if he's referring to your cat or the fact you left him sitting in just his boxers, expecting something more.

"You should get used to it," you tell him simply, closing your eyes. You can't suppress your smile as he slides under the covers with you, his hands finding you instantly. He pulls you flush against him, your legs tangling with his.

"Good night, baby," he whispers, kissing the top of your hair. You relax in his hold, resting your head against his bare chest.

"Hey, Mingyu?"

"Hm?" He hums back without moving an inch.

"I love you."

You don't need to look at him to know he is smiling, his hold tightening.

"Hey, Blue?" You hum in response, knowing where this is going. "I love you."

♡⸝⸝♡⸝⸝

You're the first one to wake up in the morning, which isn't a surprise to you. Mingyu likes to sleep in, just like he likes staying up late. You fell asleep almost instantly after, the last thing you remember being Mingyu's lips on your shoulder. You turned your back to him while trying to find the perfect position, and he immediately used that opportunity to brush aside your tank top stripe and kiss your skin all over. It was easy falling asleep like that. You couldn't guess when he fell asleep, but hopefully it didn't take him too long.

You slip from his hold, taking a minute to wake up properly as you sit on the edge of the bed. Mingyu is sleeping soundlessly, hugging the blanket. Snowy jumps up to join him as soon as you make the space for him, glancing at you briefly before cuddling up to Mingyu's side.

"You like him a lot, huh," you whisper, rubbing him behind his ears before standing up.

Your dad is already awake as well when you get downstairs. "Good morning!" You call to him, disappearing into the kitchen. You hear him greet you back from the living room, the sound of his favorite video game playing on the TV. You look through the cabinets and fridge, trying to figure out what you should make for breakfast. You have no idea when Mingyu will wake up, so it makes it harder to decide.

You eventually take out a few eggs and bacon from the fridge as well as the toast from the cabinet. You'll just wake him up when you come back up. Hopefully, he won't mind. You move around the kitchen while listening to your dad play his game, humming to yourself. There is still a huge problem waiting for you, but you're choosing to leave it up to your future self to somehow sneak Mingyu out of the house.

You finish planting everything, taking the two plates out of the kitchen with you. But because your luck apparently sucks, your dad is on his way to the bathroom at the same time, eyeing you confusedly upon seeing how much food you're taking upstairs.

"I'm really hungry," you blurt out quickly. "I didn't have dinner last night so I'm starving right now."

"Why didn't you put it all on one plate?" He questions, trying to understand your trail of thoughts.

You shrug, trying to stay as casual as possible. "I'll wash it later, don't worry." He simply shakes his head at you, brushing you off and going upstairs first. You feel the weight lift off your shoulders instantly, relief washing over you. That's one question out of the way. You jog up the stairs after him, disappearing in your room while your dad goes to the bathroom.

As if he could read your mind, Mingyu is already awake when you come in. He is sitting in your bed, his clothes still on the floor and Snowy still on his side. He has one hand on your cat, rubbing the spot behind his ears while scrolling on his phone with the other, his eyes lifting up when he hears the door closing. "Good morning," you greet him, crossing the room and handing him his breakfast.

"Good morning," he leans over to kiss you.

You sit between his opened legs, resting the plate in your lap. "I just had to explain to my dad how it totally makes sense I'm eating two portions," you sigh.

"Yeah? Did he believe you?" He wonders, taking a bite. "This is really good!" He signs.

You roll your eyes at his reaction. "Eggs," you remind him. "There is no way you just complimented the way I make eggs." Kim Mingyu, who is the greatest cook you know right after your dad. Yeah, right.

"What?" He shrugs. "I'm a simple man."

"You're an idiot," you shake your head, taking a bite yourself. "I don't think it even crossed his mind I might be hiding a boy in my room at my age, so I think we are good."

"At your age," he repeats with a laugh. "Do you feel old or something, baby?"

"I feel quite annoyed if you ask me," you nudge him with your feet, only for him to nudge you right back. Your morning is already filled with giggles and playful fighting as you eat your breakfast together, reminding you how much you love this man.

"I forgot to ask," the door of your rooms comes to an open, your dad's face falling into your vision. Right. "Did you get the message about Saturday's schedule—" he stops mid sentence as his eyes land on you and Mingyu in your bed, his bare chest on full display and his clothes on the floor. You close your eyes shut, regretting not locking the door after you came in.

You knew there was going to be a time he'd find out, you just didn't want it to be now. Truthfully, you liked having him just to yourself. Being able to live in this little bubble with just you and him without everyone knowing. Dae knows, of course. After covering for you the night of the ball, it was only natural for her to ask a bunch of questions, questions you didn't feel like lying about. Most of the guys probably have an idea as well, but that's all. Other than that, it was just you and Mingyu living in your own world, and you liked that.

"Yeah, Saturday, the, uh, men tournament. I got it. I said I'll be there," you answer as if nothing happened.

Mingyu clears his throat, glancing between you and your dad. "Good morning, coach." He sounds awkward, which you certainly don't blame him for. Closing your eyes shut, you run through all the possible worst case scenarios that could follow. You just hope he doesn't take it out on Mingyu and bench him for the rest of the season.

"Mingyu," he blinks, finally acknowledging his presence. "Do I want to know what you're doing shirtless at my house so early in the morning?"

"Having eggs?" He raises his plate to prove his point, looking at you for some sort of help when your dad's eyes stay locked on him. Mingyu sighs when your eyes tell him you have no idea what to do, deciding to take it into his own hands. "I came in last night because I missed my girlfriend, coach. I'm sure you know how busy her classes have been keeping her lately. I slept over, and I'm sorry for not saying hello earlier?" He offers a sheepish smile, one that might work on you but you're not sure will have the same effect on your dad.

"You looking to end your career anytime soon?"

"If I have any say then no, sir," Mingyu shakes his head instantly. "I want to keep playing."

"So no pregnancy leaves or anything like that?"

"Dad!" You yell immediately.

"What? I need to make sure one of my best players isn't looking to quit when we just gained him last year," your dad shrugs as if it was the most obvious thing.

"I'm not planning on doing that anytime soon," Mingyu assures him and your dad nods, his eyes briefly flickering between you and him before sighing. He turns on his heel, ready to leave the room again. You blink confusedly. That went a lot better than you expected.

"And Mingyu?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Wear your clothes, will you?"

It's cold today. The goose bumps on your arms only prove that. You regret not bringing something warmer with you as you stand in front of your shop, watching the game from the entrance before your snack bar. The only thing making it a little easier for you is the fact you catch Mingyu's eyes every once in a while, his smile widening every time he is reminded you are wearing his jersey number on your back.

Dae called you out on it as soon as you came in before the game started, teasing you the entire time. You couldn't even care. Not when you are this proud to be wearing his number on your back while he keeps winning all his games, getting closer to his goal.

The crowd is buzzing with excitement, cheering loudly for both teams on the court. You and Dae aren't far behind, screaming your lungs out as well. You were a little scared before when you saw the change in the core five, but Riki and Jake are doing perfect in the game so far.

People keep coming in and out, but Dae takes care of most of their orders, allowing you to keep watching the game. She excuses it with the fact you'll have more to do once the game is over, but you know deep down she's doing it because she simply wants to give you the opportunity to watch them.

"If it isn't the new Mrs. Kim." You glance at the customer beside you, offering an awkward smile. He used to play with your dad when you were little, but it's been so long you can't remember his name. "He is doing great today. I'm sure your dad is proud to have him in the family."

You clear your throat, glancing at Dae for some sort of help. She only gives you a look, one telling you she finds this just as weird. "We, uhm, definitely aren't at that stage yet," you shake your head, joining Dae behind the counter and taking your position. "I'll let him know you think he played well today, though. I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

He brushes you off, "No need. We are all waiting to tell the team ourselves how well they are doing once they win." There is no doubt in his voice about how today's game will turn out and it makes you smile. You know they'll take the win as well. Despite it being a tie right now, both teams at their best, you don't question them even for a second. "You should come with us later. I heard there is a ceremony drink ready for the team."

"I don't know if we'll be able to," you turn him down gently. As much as you'd love to go for a drink with the guys once the game is over, it's not like you can when you're behind the bar, being the provider of their alcohol. "Maybe next time."

You serve him a beer, waiting a bit after he leaves before going to watch the game with Dae again. 68:63 for the Knights. They scored four more points while you weren't looking, and it makes you so much prouder. They got this. Just five more minutes like this and they'll have their spot in the finale guaranteed. You cheer as loudly as before, if not louder.

Watching the game, you realize how much you truly missed the sport. You can't say you'd want to be in their spot again, but you love watching the game and cheering for the team, cheering for your boyfriend. It feels great.

The entire crowd erupts at the buzzer beater, all the guys running together to the center, huge grins and loud noises filling your ears. They won. 81:79. It was Seungcheol scoring the final two points, and you don't think you've ever seen Dae more excited about the game than at that moment. She's been learning the rules lately and understanding the principles more and more every time. And while she says it's because she realized it's more fun when you know what's going on, you know a certain captain has his hands in the sudden change.

You both clap as best as you can while the guys hug themselves, pulling your dad in as well. It makes you laugh seeing them practically drag him down. Your eyes flicker around all of them, trying to find the number 17 you're the most excited to see. You frown when you don't see his messy hair anywhere, standing on your tip toes in an attempt to see better.

Your vision is quickly clouded with the image of a red jersey though, your eyes trailing up his body until they finally lend on the chocolate eyes you love so much. "Hi," he smiles sweetly, all sweaty and his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Hi," you greet him back, unable to hide your smile.

"That's my number you're wearing," he points out, his grin as big as yours.

"Oh? This thing?" You turn around to show him your back with his name on it. He's seen the jersey many times already, but his reaction never changes. "I just threw something on."

"The prettiest shirt ever," he crosses the space between you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you in for a kiss. By the sounds around, there are already people coming in to order a drink, but he doesn't care at all, keeping you as close as he can. "My name looks perfect on you."

"I've been told," you giggle, your palms pressed against his chest. "Pretty sure someone told me just last night."

"Must have been a genius," he hums, his hands sliding down to your ass and giving it a tight squeeze as he kisses you again, just because he can.

"Celebrate on your own time." There is a slap coming to Mingyu's shoulder, one you know is encouraging as soon as your eyes land on Bora.

"I can't. I'm too impatient," Mingyu argues, offering Bora a soft smile. You tap his chest with your palm, bringing his eyes to yours again. He sighs when he realizes what you want, stealing one last kiss from you before taking a step back.

"Go celebrate with your team, this is big for all of you," you nod your head towards the rest of the guys still on the court.

He doesn't even glance their way, keeping his eyes on you. "I was celebrating with my team before I was interrupted." You roll your eyes at him despite finding him adorable.

"Ignore his corny ass," Bora shakes her head, but the smile on her face as she wraps her arm around your shoulders tells you just how much she loves this for you as well. "There is a line of people waiting for a drink, and I'd love to use my friend card and cut in line, so hurry."

You laugh with her as you walk to the bar, glancing over your shoulder at Mingyu once more. He is still watching you, so you take the opportunity and pull your head to the side, showcasing him the name on your jersey once more. He is right, you also think Kim looks great on you.

Predictable. If you had to use one word to describe your mornings, that would be it. In a job full of the unpredictable, you took solace in your morning routines that never strayed far from the beaten road. It was so predictable that Mingyu, Minghao and Seokmin could even tell what you were doing from the get go, no matter what time it was before you step into work.

5am - Wake Up and Get Ready 5:30am - Morning Run 6:30am - Home and Shower 7am - Breakfast & Smoothie Prep 7:30am - Leave for the Station 8am - Reach the Station 8:30am - Roll Call

Which is why at exactly 7am, you exit your bedroom, fresh as a daisy to find Minghao already at the stove, preparing breakfast and humming to himself as the smell of bacon fill your nose.

"Morning." He greets, not sparing a glance at you as he continues to move around the kitchen, with the bacon still sizzling on the pan. You make your way around the kitchen island, giving his arm a quick squeeze in greeting.

"Morning, Hao." You glance curiously into the bowl, wondering what he was mixing. A small grin appears on your lips as you realize what the mixture is. "Pancakes? Are we feeding a whole school here, big brother?"

Minghao rolls his eyes, letting out a soft scoff as he pushes you away from the bowl. "I figured, since it's rookie day that we will need the extra little bit of energy to keep us from loosing our minds today." He raises an eyebrow. "But if you don't want to eat it, I guess I could just pack the rest for Seokmin and Mingyu. Your eyes widen as you let out a flabbergasted gasp before whacking his shoulder, making him yelp a little in response. "You wouldn't! I'm your sister!"

"Step-sister." Minghao corrects a little pointedly, rubbing the spot where you hit him as you roll your eyes in response.

"to-May-to, to-Mah-to." You quip back, emphasizing on the different syllables. Minghao roll his eyes, biting back a smile as he shoos you away from the stove. You walk around him towards the fridge, pulling out ingredients for your morning smoothie.

"Besides," Minghao starts softly, clearing his throat as you glance over at him, "I thought we could also have these like when we were kids." He continues to stir the bowl, chewing his bottom lip. "Bacon pancakes were definitely the best way to start the school term."

Minghao and you have been half-siblings since you were 6 years old, your mother having met his father in the most cliche way possible by accidentally spilling coffee on him at the coffee shop down the road from your house. Your mother, being the people pleaser she was, immediately offered him one of your fathers old shirts from the closet as he laughed at her and told her that it was okay. They then got to talking and bonded over their shared grievances before eventually giving this new relationship a shot. When their relationship started getting more serious, it was time for the 'Meet the Kids' Session, where your mother brought you to Minghao's house to meet him and his dad for the first time.

You remember being in that little pink dress your mother had forced you into, and staring at the boy who looked like he was contemplating slamming the door in your faces as soon as he saw the two of you behind it. Thankfully, he didn't and just stared at you even after his father ushered you and your mother into the house. You shuffled awkwardly under his gaze as he continued to quietly stare at you, almost as if he was analyzing you.

"Honey," your mother started, pushing you a little towards the boy, "This is Minghao." His father repeated the same process, speaking your name softly as you stood right in front of the older boy. His eyes flitted around your face before staring you dead in the eye and opened his mouth as you braced for whatever mean words he wanted to say.

"Would you like to see my seashell collection?" You blink once. Twice. Three Times. "Seashells?"

Minghao gave one firm nod before your eyes comically widened as you nodded your head excitedly. Just like that, his face lit up and he gave you a toothy grin before grabbing your hand and leading you to his room. Where he showed you his really cute and pretty seashell collection.

Fast forward to a marriage and 20 or so years later, here you were, sharing a four room apartment with your step-brother; who still had the same seashell collection in his room which was getting bigger with every trip you two had taken together.

You blink at the older man, warmth filling your chest as you smile a little, remembering the fond memories. "I love that." You answer softly, closing the fridge door. "Maybe that should be our new tradition for every rookie day now."

Minghao simply hums, a small grin on his face as you pull out a chopping board from the cupboard. "Want one?" You ask, sparing him a glance as you lay out all the ingredients in-front of you.

"Sure."

The two of you work your way around the kitchen, seamlessly moving out of each others way and getting everything done before both of you settle across from each other.Plates stacked with bacon and pancakes, as well as the smoothie that you made with whatever you could find in the fridge. The two of you eat in silence, chatting momentarily here and there about anything and everything, a simple "Let's go grocery shopping this weekend", or "Should we go out with Gyu and Seok this weekend?"

Your morning ends with Minghao going to take a shower while you pour the leftover smoothies into to-go cups for him and yourself. Clearing the dishes, you smile to yourself as the soap bubbles coat your arms. These are definitely what mornings are suppose to look like. Predictable. Structured. Unsurprising. After a morning like this, what could possibly go wrong?

The quiet moment before roll call is definitely the best part of your morning. It is further affirmed by the two tall troublemakers sitting on top of the break tables in the TO Break Room.

"You guys are aware that there are completely comfortable chairs just beside the table, right?" Minghao asks as soon as the two of you enter the room, deadpan etched in his tone as he gestures towards the four chairs on either side of the table. "You guys are even spoiled for choice when it comes to which seat you'll pick!"

The two whip their heads towards you and your step-brother before they roll their eyes at his words, almost in sync. Their reactions make you cover your mouth, biting back a smile as you try not to giggle. "Just for that, I'm greeting Nova first." Mingyu, the taller of the two says as he stands up and walks towards you before pulling you into a giant bear hug making you groan as he squeezes you tight.

The action is definitely for show for Minghao making you tap hard on Mingyu's biceps, a way to tell him to get off nicely. "Can't. Breathe. Gyu." You manage to mutter out between taps. Mingyu, the ever-loving oaf, did not listen and instead, squeezes you tighter in response. Before you could pass out, the other tall man saves you by yanking Mingyu off of you, pulling you into his embrace instead. "Nova." Seokmin chirps, giving you a squeeze as you smile up at the man.

"Hey, Sunshine." You chirp back, embracing his hug as he squeezes you just a little tighter at the mention of the nickname. Seokmin lets you go before pulling your older step-brother into a side hug, which he begrudgingly accepts as you take a seat on top of the break table, much to Minghaos' dismay as he grimaces when you shoot him a teasing look. "Can't believe it's already our twenty-first Rookie Day!" Mingyu exclaims, taking his seat beside yours, on the top of the break table, the protein shake in his hand sloshing slightly.

You share a look with Minghao, who sits on the chair next to the table (just to prove a point, you're sure), before collectively rolling your eyes. "You're making it sound as if it's like getting the best present in the world." Mingyu raises an eyebrow as he takes a gulp of his protein shake. "It is for you and Nova." He says pointedly, closing the shake with a 'click'. "The poor souls that get the two of you as their training officers better start praying for their lives."

Minghao lets out a scoff as you exasperatedly gasp. "Me?" You ask, feigning ignorance as you dramatically place your hand on your chest. Seokmin lets out a little giggle at your antics, taking a seat next to Minghao on the chair — a way to keep him company. "I'm an angel. The rookies should be glad that it's me training them instead of a tall lanky bozo like you."

Mingyu's jaw drops at your statement as Seokmin starts laughing harder, almost falling off the chair while Minghao smirks, his amusement shining through as he watches you and Mingyu bicker. "Well! At least they don't call me Medusa behind my back!" He shoots back.

"Better than being called Brunette Ken, with all the muscles and no brains." You deadpan out, taking a sip of your smoothie as you shrug. "Besides, Medusa's a badass. She turns people to stone."

Mingyu scoffs at this, a pout making its way onto his face. "Your heart is made out of stone." He sourly mutters.

You roll your eyes, about to retort when you hear a knock on the door. The four of you turn towards it to see Seungcheol leaning against it, a grim expression on his face.

"Sergeant." Mingyu exclaims, his mood picking up instantly after seeing him. He mocks a salute which makes Seokmin giggle and Minghao shake his head with a slight grin on his lips. "May I say you're looking lovely this morning." You let out a giggle before looking at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, however, did not crack a grin. He sends a nod in Mingyu's direction before locking eyes with you. "Nova, my office in ten."

You blink in surprise, caught off-guard by the seriousness in his tone, before giving him a curt nod. "Yes, Sergeant." He turns without another word, making you look towards the three men who stare at you, as if deciding whether to start praying for you or to reassure you.

"Did you do something to piss him off?" Seokmin inquires, his eyebrows furrowing with worry.

You shake your head. "No… I don't think so." Running through the previous weeks events in your head, you visibly freeze.

Minghao, ever the observer, raises an eyebrow at the action. "What did you do?"

You chew on your bottom lip. "I might've eaten his leftover kimchi stew in the fridge the other day when he wasn't in the office."

The three guys visibly freeze at your confession, unsure of how to react. They share a look between each other before turning back to you.

"The one from the place down the street that he was raving about last week?" Minghao asks, his voice laced with seriousness. In any other situation, you probably would've cackled at how serious your brother looks but instead, you swallow your saliva and nod slowly.

It was almost comedic watching the three guys' expressions change before your very eyes into one of grievances (Mingyu), one of disappointment (Minghao), and one of exasperation (Seokmin).

"Well, we loved working with you." Mingyu says empathetically as he reaches over to pat you on your shoulder.

"I can't believe you would do that." Minghao deadpans, shaking his head. "You know better than to mess with his food after the Bulgogi incident." Minghao states before nudging a thumb in Mingyu's direction.

"Hey!" Mingyu whines out as a pout overtakes his features. "We said we weren't going to bring it up anymore."

"We do when someone messes with the sergeant's food instead of learning from your mistakes."

Mingyu was about to retort when Seokmin stands up, animatedly waving his arms in any direction available making the three of you jump slightly.

"Guys! C'mon!" He says exasperatingly, his arms never wavering. "We need to figure out a way to get her out of this!"

"She brought this upon herself." Minghao says, crossing his arms. "The amount of times I have to remind you guys not to eat his food is getting out of hand." He mutters, locking eyes with you making you shrink back, a little sheepishly.

"What's going on?"

The four of you turn towards the door to see Jun. The older man assesses the room with the precision of a sniper — which he is — with an eyebrow raised. "Are you guys bullying Nova again?"

Sergeant Wen Junhui, is one of the leaders of Vanguard, a Special Enforcement Unit which is usually in charge of all the high risk cases in the area. To you and the rest, however, he was just known as Jun, one of the first few friends the four of you made in the academy. He was also your guys' senior by one year. Other than having a noticeable soft spot for Minghao, he had a bigger noticeable one for you — always making sure that the guys were not bullying you as much while always having your back.

The guys used to make fun of you all the time, saying that Jun probably did that because he had a crush on you — much to Minghao's dismay as your older stepbrother. You used to shut it down as well, always telling them to shut up. However, you did secretly have a small crush on the older man. Not that you would ever admit it. However, all of those theories turned into history when Jun met his girlfriend a year ago.

"She ate Choi's leftover kimchi stew that was in the fridge the other day." Minghao deadpans, making Jun's eyes widen before locking them with yours.

"You didn't." He says in utter disbelief, making you smile sheepishly as Mingyu nods.

"Oh yes she did."

"Nova…" Jun sympathetically drawls out, making your cheeks heat up before you throw your hands up exasperatedly.

"I know okay! Can we please let this go?" You beg. "I don't want to think of all the bad outcomes before they even happen!"

"Maybe we could say that the janitor threw it out." Mingyu suggests, ignoring whatever you just said, making you glare at him.

Minghao shakes his head. "No, Hyunseok is smarter than that after making the mistake once." Minghao recalls, making Seokmin shudder as he recalls the memory as well.

"Maybe he didn't even notice." Jun suggests hopefully, hopping on top of the break room table next to Mingyu. Mingyu furrows his eyebrows before shaking his head almost disappointingly.

"I think the top marksman badge from the academy that hangs above his desk would disagree with you."

You feel the pit in your stomach get deeper with each word they say, making you groan as you run your hands down your face. "I beg of you, please, can we just stop talking about this." You muffle out from behind your hands.

The room goes silent at your words before you feel a hand on your shoulder. You peek out from behind them to look at Minghao, the owner of the hand, who tongues his cheek. "You'll be fine, Pixie. Just go in that room and do what you always do." He clicks his tongue before gesturing towards the other three men in the room. "We kid and mess with you because we like you, I'm sure it's nothing serious."

Your cheeks flush a little at the endearing childhood nickname that Minghao uses every now and then when he's serious or trying to comfort you. The rest had tried to use it after hearing Minghao say it the first time when you were all in the academy together, but that was quickly shot down when you threatened major bodily harm in the worst ways imaginable.

You glance towards the three other men in question who give you reassuring smiles, making you let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding. You glance towards the clock before hopping off the table and dusting your uniform.

"Well, time to face the music." You mumble to yourself.

The four guys share a glance before Seokmin places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll see you at roll call." He says, giving you an infectious grin that almost makes you forget that you are walking towards potential death.

Almost.

You bid them goodbye before walking towards Seungcheol's office. You raise your fist, taking a deep breath to compose your nerves, before knocking three hard knocks on the door. A soft 'come in' comes from the other side of the door, making you push the door open to see Seungcheol leaning against his chair, his expression unreadable as you enter the room.

"You wanted to see me Sarge?" You ask, hoping your voice didn't waver. Seungcheol nods and gestures to the chair in front of his desk.

"Shut the door and take a seat."

You nod, obeying his words before shutting the door with a soft thud and sitting in the chair, Seungcheol watching your every move. He sits upright, analyzing you with a small frown on his face that makes your nerves spike as an awkward silence envelopes the two of you. He opens his mouth to start but you cut him off before he can even get a word out.

"I'm sorry! I'll buy you the stew later for lunch if you don't give me the Bulgogi scolding."

Seungcheol eyebrows immediately furrow at your words, considering them for a moment as you continue to babble on about how you're willing to add on all the extras that could be added, moving your hands around animatedly.

"What?" He asks, confusion written all over his face, making you stop mid-ramble. Your hands freeze in place as you turn to look at the man, your expression almost mirroring his.

"Wasn't that what you wanted to talk about Sarge?"

"I don't even know what you're spouting right now, Nova."

"Oh." You awkwardly mumble out, lowering your arms slowly to your side. Seungcheol squeezes the bridge of his nose as he lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "Then why did you call me here, Sarge?"

He clasps his hands together before leaning them against the table. "As you know, its rookie day, meaning that all the new rookies are coming in today." You nod slowly, urging him to continue. "Normally, I wouldn't make such a big deal of talking to you or the other TOs about the rookies, but upper management has been flagging records, specifically yours."

You freeze at that, watching as Seungcheol reaches beside him and grabs a piece of paper, turning it around and placing it between the two of you. You lean closer, eyes scanning the paper, noticing a table with numbers and names.

Training Officer - Lee Seokmin: Total Rookies - 20 Total Wash Outs - 3 Total Passes - 17

Training Officer - Kim Mingyu: Total Rookies - 20 Total Wash Outs - 1 Total Passes - 19

Training Officer - Xu Minghao: Total Rookies - 20 Total Wash Outs - 8 Total Passes - 12

You briefly screen past the rest of the names and numbers before your eyes land on yours, which was right under Minghao's.

Total Rookies - 20 Total Wash Outs - 11 Total Passes - 9

There was nothing unusual about these numbers. There was a reason why you were known as Nova to the rest of the district since your rookie days. However, what caught your attention was the words written underneath your numbers in the report that the rest did not get.

"Evaluation of Nova: Fierce by nature but tends to leave her rookies to fend for themselves in many reported situations. Needs to get at least double digits this year. If not, removal from TO program as seen fit." Your head shoots up to look at Seungcheol as soon as the words register in your mind. "Removal from TO program? Sarge, you can't be serious."

Seungcheol let out a sigh, grimacing slightly. "Internal Affairs is indeed taking this as a serious issue, Nova. They flagged that your teaching methods have been deemed unfit for taking in the newer rookies. They would like to at least see double digit numbers out of you this year if not," he points at the statement, "removal from TO program, effective immediately."

"Sir, with all due respect, this is bullshit." You manage to spit out. "My rookies turned officers rate may be low but the officers developed under my watch are the ones who are the best of the district. Even IA has got to know that."

Seungcheol sighs again and clasps his hands together, gripping them together tightly. "Look Nova," he starts, "of course I know that this is Internal Affairs way of bullshitting that you can't be here in this program. Your track record for rookies is definitely one of our best."

He pauses to gesture towards the statement again. "However, IA has flagged the number of wash outs that happen on your watch. Regardless of whether it is by luck that I always assign you the worst rookies, or that they do something stupid during the job or wash out during Plain Clothes Day… it doesn't matter." He leans against his chair, looking absolutely drained. "I had to fight with IA about this because they almost flagged your brother for the same exact reason." You chuckle with no humour, a little hurt by his words. "So you save him instead of me?"

His gaze hardens at your words. "You know it wasn't like that, Nova. Don't be like that, please." He says lowly, his tone cracking slightly, making guilt pit at your stomach. You knew it wasn't but you couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You had met Seungcheol in an Undercover Class during your first year as an official officer and he quickly became an elder brother figure to both you and Minghao, always forcing you two to reconcile whenever you both had petty fights. He rose up the ranks faster than anyone you had known of due to his amazing leadership skills as well as his prior army experience that he had kept to himself a lot. When he had first made Sergeant at this district, you and Minghao immediately put in your transfer papers to transfer to his.

He sighs, reaching over to grasp one of your hands in his, a gesture you were familiar with, a way of showing of showing comfort from the older man.

"The two of you were almost kicked out of the program without any consultation." He says before rubbing a thumb over your hand comfortingly. "I was only called as a common courtesy because the guy in charge of the case owes me a favour from the army days. I fought tooth and nail for you and I was only able to save Hao because his passing numbers are in the double digits. Which is why they're offering you the same courtesy." You feel empty at Seungcheol's words and the thought that you and your brother almost suffered the same fate.

You and Minghao were known as the 'Deadly Weapons' during your years at the academy. Your records together broke everyone else's the minute you guys were rookies, making training officers in record time. You, more so than Minghao, had a track record for putting your rookies under immense pressure, tossing them into the deep end and letting them try to swim and fend for themselves more often than not.

Hence, the nickname, Nova— more so than Medusa— followed you through all those years.

You believed in teachable moments but at the end of the day, you were still only twenty-seven. A year younger than Minghao, Mingyu and Seokmin, and you had definitely committed your fair share of mistakes during your few years as a training officer. You were harsh on some, didn't train some of them enough before plain clothes day and there were just some circumstances that couldn't be avoided while out on the field.

Seungcheol taps a finger on your hand, making you snap out of your thoughts. You look at him, his eyes filled with sympathy that makes you swallow your emotions and sit up straighter.

"Alright." You manage to say. "If double digits is what they want, the next rookie is going to be the best one I've trained." If you didn't know Seungcheol for long, you might have breezed past the way he visibly freezes at your words, or the way he hummed— a habit he did when he was hiding something.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Sarge." You say, suspiciously eyeing the man. "What are you hiding?"

Seungcheol can't meet your eyes so you pull your hand away from his. "Seungcheol." You say, your tone more serious, making the man glance upwards.

"That was the next thing we need to talk about."

Your heart sinks again. "That doesn't sound good." You air out, sitting more upright than you already were.

"Your new rookie is, Kwon Soonyoung."

You blink at him before letting out a small laugh. "Wow, poor guy. If I had the same name as that god-forsaken idol of a murderer, I would definitely change my name straight away. Especially if I was training to become a police officer."

Seungcheol lets out a cough of a laugh before locking eyes with you. "Yeah," he says, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "But he is the Kwon Soonyoung, and he was found not guilty."

You stare at Seungcheol for any signs of humour before feeling your heart in your throat. "Sarge, please tell me you're fucking with me." Seungcheol looks at you, his eyebrows raising. "Does it look like I'm joking, Nova?"

You shoot from your seat, feeling your blood rushing. "This has gotta be a joke, Choi." You spit out. "A tabloid murderer—"

"An exonerated tabloid murderer." Seungcheol says, interrupting your rant and causing you to glare at him before continuing.

"—joining our district and being my rookie? Are we just letting anyone join nowadays?"

Seungcheol let out a sigh before standing up and walking over, standing a few meters away from you. "Actually, Officer Kwon had to sue the city to even be in this position because he was wrongfully charged in the first place. The trial found him not guilty and let him into the academy." You let out a slow breath as he continues. "And once he was there, he earned solid scores. His record also tells me they're better than yours."

You freeze at that, your frown deepening. "You can't be serious." You deadpan out.

Seungcheol shakes his head, picking up a paper on his desk before turning it to you. Your eyes widen as the score '389' reflects clearly on the sheet of paper causing you to internally curse. The murderer had scored one point higher than you. One Point.

Seungcheol pulls the paper away from your face, placing it back on his desk as you collect the million thoughts racing through your head. "Internal Affairs has decided that he is your new rookie to really test that your training methods work."

You feel your chest burn with anger. "This really feels like a threat, Sarge." You manage to spit out, your tone and words laced with venom, making Seungcheol sigh.

"It's the offer you're getting, Nova. So I guess the question is…" Seungcheol trails off, sitting at the corner of his desk as he crosses his arms in front of him. "Whether you're going to condemn him before you even meet the guy or are you going to give him the proper treatment to ensure that he passes with flying colours, so that you and him are able to stay in this district together."

Your eyes narrow at his choice of words before steeling yourself. "If he cannot hack it, I will cut him. Regardless of whether I'm a training officer or not after the fact." You swiftly turn towards the door, not wanting to stay any longer.

Seungcheol calls out your real name, making you pause as you turn back to him. "You're one of the best officers I have, Nova. I hope you know that even though Internal Affairs is being a bitch about it, I would have assigned him to you, regardless of everything happening because I know that you can handle it."

Your heart wrenches slightly at his words as you analyze his expression filled with sincerity and sympathy. It makes you let out a slight scoff as you shake your head. "If I can help it, I will not let a murderer walk out onto our streets, Seungcheol." You steel your gaze on the older man. "Even if its the last thing I get to do as a training officer in this district."

With that, you walk out the door.

All the sounds muffle as you continue down the hallway making your way towards the main meeting room for roll call as a number settles in between your thoughts.

546 Days.

You had seen the number written on Kwon Soonyoung's contract under your name.

546 Days under your watch.

546 Days where he will either pass with flying colours or flunk out under your watch.

546 Days to prove that all the blood, sweat and tears were worth it.

546 Days to prove that he has a chance to stay.

546 Days to prove that you were meant for this job.

546 Days, and the clock starts now.

Soonyoung can count the number of times he has been caught red-handed on one hand.

The first time being when he was six years old and he broke his mothers favourite vase, the second being when he had accidentally stepped on his dog — Latte's — tail and she had to be taken to the vet when he was ten. Third, when he sneaked out to meet a girl by the convenience store near his house that he liked when he was sixteen, which was also where he had his first kiss.

However, he didn't think the fourth would be at the age of twenty-eight, handcuffed in the back of a cop's car where he could still feel his hands slicked with blood, hear his heart pounding in his ears as he felt the adrenaline continue to rush through his veins.

Everything felt like a rush, as if he was acting in a new movie. Except this was real life.

He remembers the door being broken in, he remembers his hands stained with red as he was forced to move away from the body. He remembers the muffled yelling of the officers telling him to stand down and surrender when he hadn't even moved from where he was sitting.

He remembers being tackled by the officers, feeling them slam his head into the floor as they handcuffed his bloody hands together and forced him up on his feet, without a second thought for him.

He remembers being read his rights in the back of the car, he remembers being processed and being read his rights in the interrogation room.

He remembers flinching as the detective hit the metal table and yelled at him to answer their questions, questions he doesn't even recall hearing.

Worst of all, he remembers clutching her body in his arms, his hands getting soaked with red as he felt the tears run down his face, hearing his own yells that were muffled and he was sure that it was all just gibberish. Even with his face on the floor and his hands handcuffed behind his back, he could still see the pool of blood that she was left in, her white dress that he had gotten her for her last birthday was soaked with the crimson of her blood. Her eyes, that was once so full of life just bore into his, lifeless and dim.

He had never felt so broken.

Everything felt like a movie, he remembers calling in his oldest friend — Jeonghan — he remembers his manager getting tons of calls, looking more stressed than he had ever seen him, but he thinks the worst part of everything was the look on his parents face when he had gotten convicted, when he was almost convicted without trial.

Soonyoung woke up with a start, his bangs slick with sweat as he felt the cool air prickle his slightly sweaty skin. He groans, running a hand through his hair as a million thoughts ran through his mind.

Her in her white dress soaked crimson from her own blood. Her lips pale, her body cold and limp in Soonyoung's arms as her blood soaked his skin as well, painting his skin red.

He can't remember how many times he had woken up from the same nightmare, but he knows it had to be at least in the sixties or seventies now, considering he used to have this nightmare three times a week during his first week of trials.

That was almost a year and a half ago at this point, he remembers the endless weeks of trial, the sleepless nights of solo-confinement and shudders. When the jury ruled 'not guilty' and he was exonerated, Soonyoung spent the better part of the first few months going for therapy sessions that Jeonghan practically had to drag him to.

"Self-pity is okay." Jeonghan had assured him when Soonyoung brought it up once how much of a burden he felt, wallowing in it. "You went through something that no one should have to experience. It's okay to wallow in the self-pity for a while but don't let it become something that turns you into a shell for the rest of your life."

Soonyoung remembers wanting to argue then, about how it felt wrong for him to live when she was gone but upon seeing the tired look on Jeonghan's face, he shuts up. He was thankful for the older man, who represented him in court and managed to get a settlement for him which was the only good thing reaped from this god-awful case. It was so messy and the evidence was tainted by so many sources, that the case itself was just a nightmare.

Jeonghan had asked what Soonyoung wanted to do with the settlement after the case was over and Soonyoung couldn't tell him. He knew he couldn't go back to being an idol after this — not that he wanted to — the public opinion of him was the worst it had been in years. But after settling down and resting his head on a soft plushy pillow while staring at the ceiling, it clicks.

He used the settlement to sue his way into the police academy and the rest was history.

Soonyoung glances towards his digital calendar on the wall and curses lowly under his breath. Maybe it was just his luck that he happens to have this nightmare plague his mind on the first day of his rookie training. His eyes, flit towards the time on the bottom right of the calendar. He lets out a sigh as it reads 6:20am, an unfortunate time for him to be awake. He forces himself to sit up on the mattress, knowing that sleep will not come easy after the nightmare.

He gets off the mattress and shuffles out of his room, the air of the recent nightmare still lingering which suffocates him slightly. As soon as he opens the door, Soonyoung gets the shock of his life seeing Jeonghan sitting at their kitchen island, a cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling.

"Morning." Jeonghan nonchalantly states as he takes a sip of his tea. He barely glances up at Soonyoung, acting as if it was normal for him to be up at this ungodly hour. Soonyoung blinks at the older man, staring at him making Jeonghan finally glance up, noticing that he hadn't moved from the doorframe and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I should be asking you that." Soonyoung blurts out, shuffling into the kitchen. He leans against the kitchen counter as Jeonghan locks his phone, placing it face-down on the countertop. "Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?"

Jeonghan shrugs. "Was burning the midnight oil working on a nightmare of a new case so I didn't get a lot of sleep." Jeonghan pauses, analyzing the younger man. "I was planning to wake up earlier anyways. Wanted to see if you needed anything before you went in for your first day."

Soonyoung feels himself freeze at the double meaning of Jeonghan's words, which of course doesn't go unnoticed by the older man who slides off the island seat. "Tea?" Jeonghan offers softly. Soonyoung feels himself nod before moving to occupy the seat that Jeonghan was in, as if he was on auto-pilot.

Jeonghan shuffles around the kitchen, humming softly to himself as Soonyoung taps along, fingers moving along to the beat as he watches the older man move around the kitchen. Jeonghan had offered Soonyoung to move in with him right after the ruling, when Soonyoung had sold everything that even held a small resemblance to his old idol life, wanting to start anew.

At first, he was hesitant, he didn't want to intrude on Jeonghan's space, and after bringing that up to Jeonghan, the older man simply rolled his eyes and practically moved Soonyoung in without consent.

Jeonghan places the mug in-front of Soonyoung before leaning against the counter.Soonyoung takes the cup with a soft 'thank you' making Jeonghan hum in acknowledgement as he eyes the blonde man in front of him. He takes a small sip, sighing a little in contentment as he feels his chest warm from the hot liquid.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Soonyoung sighs as he meets Jeonghan's gaze, shrugging. "Nothing new." He states, his words bitter as he takes another sip. "Just of that night."

Jeonghan was painfully familiar with that night. He had asked Soonyoung to walk him through it at least a dozen times to make sure that there were no loopholes in his story that the DA would eat him alive for.

Jeonghan let out a sigh. "Are you sure that you're ready for today?" He asks, concern slipping into his tone. "The therapist said that she could always write you a letter to start next week."

Soonyoung shakes his head. "No." He had already considered this the other day when Minyoung, his therapist, brought it up during their most recent session together. It seemed too much like an easy way out and Soonyoung knew that as soon as he took it, it would make his journey a little less purposeful.

"I need to do this." Soonyoung states with a quiet resolve. "I need to make sure that no one else goes through the same thing that I did and I also need to do this for…" He trails off, not being able to say her name. But Jeonghan gets it, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, you were always the more resolved one out of the two of us." Jeonghan softly jokes, breaking the tension as Soonyoung barks out a laugh.

"No way." Soonyoung starts, shaking his head. "Have you seen yourself in court? You nearly ate that other lawyer alive."

Jeonghan scoffs at that. "Because their defense was bullshit." He snarkily states, shaking his head. "Like, how the fuck does 'your honour, the defendants footprints were found on the carpet where the body was found' hold up in court?" Jeonghan blurts out, his hands waving exasperatedly. "Like, no shit Sherlock, it says that in the fucking report."

Soonyoung laugh as Jeonghan continues to rant about the lawyer, his hands continuing their movements. When Jeonghan finally calms down, they launch back into another round of random but easy conversations to pass the time as they finish their cups of tea.

Jeonghan stretches slightly, glancing at the clock. "Well, time for us to get ready."

His words make Soonyoung look towards the clock hanging on the wall, realizing that it was already 7:30am. He goes to pick his cup up but Jeonghan beats him to it, stubbornly shaking his head at Soonyoungs' protests. "I got this, you can't afford to be late on your first day."

Soonyoung scoffs. "And you can?"

"Well, I'm not at the bottom of the food chain, Boot." Jeonghan quips back, a small smirk on his face. The younger boy rolls his eyes, silently flipping the older boy off before making his way into his bedroom.

"Hoshi?"

Soonyoung stops in his tracks, hearing the childhood nickname. He glances at Jeonghan who is standing by the sink. "Yeah?"

Jeonghan analyzes Soonyoung, chewing on his bottomm lip. "If anything bad happens today, I want you to tell me about it." Soonyoung blinks and opens his mouth but Jeonghan raises his hand, stopping him from whatever he was going to say. "I don't care how gory the details are or how fucked up the case is. If anything happens, you either tell me or text Minyoung about it." Jeonghan inhales a shaky breath, strict concern written all over his face. "Promise me, please?"

Soonyoung's heart clenches at Jeonghan's words before nodding. "I promise."

Jeonghan let out a slow exhale of relief and nods. "Good." He turns back to the sink. "I'll see you at dinner, don't do anything stupid that makes you late."

The tension of the earlier statements break at Jeonghan's nagging making Soonyoung roll his eyes. "Yes, mum."

"Don't start with me, Kwon Soonyoung." Jeonghan chastises, jokingly stern which makes Soonyoung's eyes roll again as a scoff falls from his lips. He enters his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft 'thud' before his eyes flit towards the rookie uniform hanging next to his mirror.

He inhales sharply, letting the silence wash over him as the fact finally settles that today is his first day in the actual police world. He didn't have the safety net of the academy and he has to be prepared for anything.

Soonyoung turns toward the window where sunlight starts to seep in as it rises slowly over the horizon of the buildings. Pink and orange clouds fill the sky as dark blue starts to seep in, the orange ball of light peeking through the buildings. Soonyoung smiles, slightly bittersweet. Pink and orange were her favourite colours after all.

"Thank you for another beautiful morning, Seoyeon."

"You're kidding." Seokmin states in disbelief, a small frown on his face. You give him a blank stare as Minghao, Mingyu and him peer into the windowed briefing room. "Kwon Soonyoung? Like the murderer?!"

"Exonerated murderer." You state bitterly, Seungcheol's voice ringing in your head. "Choi was very clear about that fact when he told me about it."

The four of you stand outside the briefing room, leaning against the desks as you stare at the exonerated murderer in question, sitting at the front row, engaging with the other three rookies.

"He looks so…" Mingyu trails off, tilting his head as Minghao fixes him with an unamused look. "Normal?" Minghao asks with an eyebrow raised.

Mingyu shakes his head. "Small."

Seokmin scoffs at that. "You're a giant, everyone is smaller than you by default."

The two start to bicker but you tune them out as you stare at the blonde headed rookie, squinting and analyzing him as he laughs at something the rookie next to him says. Despite being slightly older than them, you can tell that they're close from the way that they were cracking jokes with each other. Soonyoung, however, is nervous. You can tell from the way he keeps tapping his fingers against the metal table, no doubt worried about how the day was going to turn out.

"Pixie." You turn to your right to see Minghao leaning against the desk next to you as Mingyu and Seokmin continued their bickering. "Are you alright?"

You open your mouth, ready to let out an easy white lie but hesitate when you see the concern in Minghao's eyes, making you sigh as you fold your arms. "Not really." You mutter, turning back to look at the rookie. "I don't know how Sarge is expecting me to ride out there with this guy having my back, Hyung. It's like a train wreck waiting to happen."

"I'm sure Sarge has a good reason for putting you with him, Pixie." Minghao gently says. "He probably knows that this is the one thing that will put you on the board for the Sergeants' Exam. A challenge that will put you a notch above the rest." Minghao nudges you, a teasing smile tugging on his lips. "And," he adds, "if he doesn't make it, you can always wash him out. You're the queen of doing that after all."

An awkward laugh bubbles out of your throat as you feel your heart sink, digesting Minghao's words. When the three had crowded you after your meeting with Seungcheol, you hadn't entirely divulged all the details from the meeting. You said that the brass just talked about the new rookie that you needed to shoulder and that it was the wrongfully incarcerated man sitting at the front row.

You couldn't bear to talk about the consequences of what would happen if Soonyoung washes out on your watch, just like you couldn't bear to tell the details of how Minghao was close to being in the same boat as you.

Minghao, ever the observant one, raised an eyebrow at that and asked why the meeting had taken so long if it was just about that. You, ever the adaptable one, replied that you had fought with Seungcheol for the rest of the time about the decision before he finally pulled rank on you.

Not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

"Still." You say, doubts swirling in your head. "What if I can't make him a good officer, Hao?" Minghao shakes his head before grabbing your hand, squeezing it gently in his.

"Pixie, you will deal with it." Minghao reassures gently, squeezing your hand again. "You're one of the best training officers we have and you will teach this idol what it takes to be a police officer and whether he deserves to be here." He continues, his words fiercely imprinting themselves into your mind. "You're Nova for a reason."

The doubts clear slightly at Minghao's words, making you smile at your step-brother as you nudge him. "Best training officer huh?" You ask, a teasing edge in youe words that makes Minghao roll his eyes.

"I take back everything I said."

Your smile widens. "Too lateeee." You singsong out making Minghao scoff, shoving you lightly.

"Shut it Pixie." He says, a ghost of a smile on his lips as you continued to tease him endlessly.

"Four musketeers." A loud, strict voice drawls out, snapping the four of you out of your conversations. The four of you turn to see Seungcheol leaning against the frame of the briefing room door with his arms crossed. Your eyes widen slightly, when the hell did he get there?

His eyebrow raises as he scans the four of you. "Are you four waiting for an invitation for roll call?"

At his words, Mingyu pushes himself off of the table, a cheeky smile on his face. "Of course sir, a hand delivered invitation from you really shows that you care about the four of us."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes before clicking his tongue."How about an invitation to clean the drunk tank instead, Officer Kim?" A small smirk plays on his lips. "I heard they had some real pukers last night."

Mingyu's eyes widen before he clears his throat. "No sir."

Seungcheol raps his knuckles on the door before gesturing into the room. "Inside in 10 seconds. If you aren't," he turns, a sly glint in his eyes, "you can clean the drunk tank with your tongues."

The four of you immediately stand up straight and walk in through the back door, sitting at the second last row of the room as the rest of the officers and the rookies watch you. Your eyes slowly scan the four rookies before they land on your own, locking eyes with him. He gives you a small smile, nerves definitely creeping in as you narrow yours, keeping your face as neutral as possible. His smile drops as you break eye contact, crossing your arms as you turn to look at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol — the watch commander on duty — stands at the front with Jun at his side as his second in command. You glance at Jun who locks eyes with you, giving you a small smile and a wink that makes you bite back your own smile, rolling your eyes at his antics.

"Alright, looks like we got some new blood this morning." Seungcheol starts, giving a once over to the three younger rookies before looking straight at Soonyoung. "And some, pushing it a little bit."

He rounds the stand, "Stand up." The four rookies scramble to their feet. "After six months at the academy, you have earned the right to be here but you'll have to prove yourself to stay. The way we do things matter. Protocol and tradition are the metal from which every police officer in this city is forged." He gives them a once over again. "Are we clear?" Seungcheol asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Seungcheol rounds the stand to where his papers are. "All of you can sit, except for Officer Kwon." He sizes Soonyoung up, folding his arms in front of him. "Normally, we would be doing the traditional introduction for new probationary officers but you," he takes a few steps towards Soonyoung, "are anything but traditional, Officer Kwon."

He clicks his tongue as Soonyoung places his arms behind his back in army stance. "So," Seungcheol continues, "I am giving you ten seconds to introduce yourself to the rest of the station before rumours start to spread like a wildfire."

Seungcheol signals for Soonyoung to turn around and face the rest of the station. You watch him take a shaky inhale. "I know that there's nothing that I can say in 10 seconds that will change everyone's opinions of me." He lets out a bitter chuckle as he shakes his head, looking at the floor. "Believe me, I've tried." He looks back up as he gives everyone a once over. "But I promise to always have your back and let my actions speak for themselves. And I promise to always strive to tip the scales towards justice." He locks eyes with you. "Because I know what it feels like when they're tipped the other way."

You feel Seokmin, Mingyu and Minghao all glance towards you, trying to gauge your reaction but you just continue to stare at your new rookie, who breaks eye contact as Seungcheol speaks. "And I want to make something very clear."

The whole room turns their attention back to Seungcheol. "Officer Kwon was found not guilty and he earned the right to be here like the rest of you." Seungcheol looks around the room. "He survived the academy, with phenomenal scores and I'd like to repeat," his eyes lock with yours, "that he has earned every right to be here."

You deadpan at the Sergeant, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he turns to Junhui. "Now, Sergeant Wen shall lead us to our training officers favourite activity," he starts, moving to the side. "The 'Training Officer Match-Up'."

Jun takes the stand before looking at the rookies at the front. "Our contestants for this years matchup are," Jun raises his hand to address them one by one with a smile on his face, he eyes the first one. "Boo Seungkwan, who I am told is the newest military band recruit."

Boo Seungkwan whose hair was dyed a light brown, gives everyone a small wave as Jun eyes the next one. "Hansol Vernon Chwe, whose parents hoped that he would have the force on his side."

You roll your eyes at the dad joke as Seokmin giggles beside you. You watch Vernon rub the back of his neck, whether from second-hand embarrassment or just embarrassment from the attention, you didn't know.

"Baby face, Lee Chan, who is our youngest rookie in history." The baby face in question dons light brown hair and smiles a huge infectious smile that slightly cracks your neutral facade. Jun's eyes sweep to the next one, his gaze hardening. "And as you've heard, our idol-legacy, Kwon Soonyoung."

Jun clears his throat, clapping his hands together as he turns to face you, Minghao, Mingyu and Seokmin. "And our winners are." His eyes flit downwards to his list. "Officer Lee, you get our newest choir boy."

Seokmin, buzzes with excitement making you glance at him, smiling softly. Being apart of the Military Band himself, you're sure that Seokmin and his rookie are going to get along very well.

"Officer Xu, you get our Star Wars fan." You glance at Minghao, a small smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at Jun's antics. "Officer Kim, you get our newest baby face." Mingyu shoots Chan a smile as you watch Soonyoung turn around and lock eyes with you. "Which leaves idol-legacy rookie Officer Kwon to ride with our very own legacy." Jun reads out your name from the list as you narrow your eyes at the rookie who gives you a small smile.

Seungcheol turns to address the rookies again. "Don't let today be your last. Forget the academy, listen to your TOs and you might just survive out there today."

You hear Minghao clear his throat beside you, no doubt holding back a smirk at the Sergeants' words as you shake your head at Seungcheol's antics. "Right, hop to it." Seungcheol claps his hands together. "Be safe out there."

Seokmin hops to his feet as he bids you and the rest goodbye, with promises to see you at lunch as he all but skips to meet his new rookie. The scene makes you laugh a little to yourself as you watch him animatedly introduce himself to Seungkwan before going to prepare their shop.

You stand up slowly with the other two, Mingyu stretching as he does, letting his back crack before shooting the two of you a toothy grin. "See you guys for lunch." He glances at you and Minghao, a cheeky smile on his face. "Don't make your rookies quit before lunch, I'd like to get to know them before you throw them into hell."

The two of you collectively roll your eyes as Minghao shoves Mingyu hard, making the taller man nearly collide into his own rookie. You immediately cover your mouth to muffle your giggles as Mingyu springs to apologize to the baby face while shooting your step-brother a sharp glare.

A small smirk plays on Minghaos lips as the two of you watch Mingyu and his rookie exit the briefing room. Minghao taps you on the shoulder, making you turn your attention to him as he levels with you. "Be safe." He starts sternly, glancing behind you, no doubt at your rookie, before looking back at you. "Call me if you anything happens, okay?"

Despite the nerves pricking at your skin, you jokingly roll your eyes as you mock a salute. "Will do, Sir!" Minghao rolls his eyes at your antics, shoving you softly before walking towards Vernon who's patiently waiting for him at the glass door of the briefing room. You watch them walk towards the logistics room before taking a deep breath and steeling your resolve as you turn to find Soonyoung standing right behind you.

"Ma'am." Soonyoung greets, a small smile on his face as you give him a once over, crossing your arms.

You internally sigh, this was going to be a long day. You briskly walk out of the room, not caring if he is behind you or not."

"You're kidding." Seokmin states in disbelief, a small frown on his face. You give him a blank stare as Minghao, Mingyu and him peer into the windowed briefing room. "Kwon Soonyoung? Like the murderer?!"

"Exonerated murderer." You state bitterly, Seungcheol's voice ringing in your head. "Choi was very clear about that fact when he told me about it."

The four of you stand outside the briefing room, leaning against the desks as you stare at the exonerated murderer in question, sitting at the front row, engaging with the other three rookies.

"He looks so…" Mingyu trails off, tilting his head as Minghao fixes him with an unamused look. "Normal?" Minghao asks with an eyebrow raised.

Mingyu shakes his head. "Small."

Seokmin scoffs at that. "You're a giant, everyone is smaller than you by default."

The two start to bicker but you tune them out as you stare at the blonde headed rookie, squinting and analyzing him as he laughs at something the rookie next to him says. Despite being slightly older than them, you can tell that they're close from the way that they were cracking jokes with each other. Soonyoung, however, is nervous. You can tell from the way he keeps tapping his fingers against the metal table, no doubt worried about how the day was going to turn out.

"Pixie." You turn to your right to see Minghao leaning against the desk next to you as Mingyu and Seokmin continued their bickering. "Are you alright?"

You open your mouth, ready to let out an easy white lie but hesitate when you see the concern in Minghao's eyes, making you sigh as you fold your arms. "Not really." You mutter, turning back to look at the rookie. "I don't know how Sarge is expecting me to ride out there with this guy having my back, Hyung. It's like a train wreck waiting to happen."

"I'm sure Sarge has a good reason for putting you with him, Pixie." Minghao gently says. "He probably knows that this is the one thing that will put you on the board for the Sergeants' Exam. A challenge that will put you a notch above the rest." Minghao nudges you, a teasing smile tugging on his lips. "And," he adds, "if he doesn't make it, you can always wash him out. You're the queen of doing that after all."

An awkward laugh bubbles out of your throat as you feel your heart sink, digesting Minghao's words. When the three had crowded you after your meeting with Seungcheol, you hadn't entirely divulged all the details from the meeting. You said that the brass just talked about the new rookie that you needed to shoulder and that it was the wrongfully incarcerated man sitting at the front row.

You couldn't bear to talk about the consequences of what would happen if Soonyoung washes out on your watch, just like you couldn't bear to tell the details of how Minghao was close to being in the same boat as you.

Minghao, ever the observant one, raised an eyebrow at that and asked why the meeting had taken so long if it was just about that. You, ever the adaptable one, replied that you had fought with Seungcheol for the rest of the time about the decision before he finally pulled rank on you.

Not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

"Still." You say, doubts swirling in your head. "What if I can't make him a good officer, Hao?" Minghao shakes his head before grabbing your hand, squeezing it gently in his.

"Pixie, you will deal with it." Minghao reassures gently, squeezing your hand again. "You're one of the best training officers we have and you will teach this idol what it takes to be a police officer and whether he deserves to be here." He continues, his words fiercely imprinting themselves into your mind. "You're Nova for a reason."

The doubts clear slightly at Minghao's words, making you smile at your step-brother as you nudge him. "Best training officer huh?" You ask, a teasing edge in youe words that makes Minghao roll his eyes.

"I take back everything I said."

Your smile widens. "Too lateeee." You singsong out making Minghao scoff, shoving you lightly.

"Shut it Pixie." He says, a ghost of a smile on his lips as you continued to tease him endlessly.

"Four musketeers." A loud, strict voice drawls out, snapping the four of you out of your conversations. The four of you turn to see Seungcheol leaning against the frame of the briefing room door with his arms crossed. Your eyes widen slightly, when the hell did he get there?

His eyebrow raises as he scans the four of you. "Are you four waiting for an invitation for roll call?"

At his words, Mingyu pushes himself off of the table, a cheeky smile on his face. "Of course sir, a hand delivered invitation from you really shows that you care about the four of us."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes before clicking his tongue."How about an invitation to clean the drunk tank instead, Officer Kim?" A small smirk plays on his lips. "I heard they had some real pukers last night."

Mingyu's eyes widen before he clears his throat. "No sir."

Seungcheol raps his knuckles on the door before gesturing into the room. "Inside in 10 seconds. If you aren't," he turns, a sly glint in his eyes, "you can clean the drunk tank with your tongues."

The four of you immediately stand up straight and walk in through the back door, sitting at the second last row of the room as the rest of the officers and the rookies watch you. Your eyes slowly scan the four rookies before they land on your own, locking eyes with him. He gives you a small smile, nerves definitely creeping in as you narrow yours, keeping your face as neutral as possible. His smile drops as you break eye contact, crossing your arms as you turn to look at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol — the watch commander on duty — stands at the front with Jun at his side as his second in command. You glance at Jun who locks eyes with you, giving you a small smile and a wink that makes you bite back your own smile, rolling your eyes at his antics.

"Alright, looks like we got some new blood this morning." Seungcheol starts, giving a once over to the three younger rookies before looking straight at Soonyoung. "And some, pushing it a little bit."

He rounds the stand, "Stand up." The four rookies scramble to their feet. "After six months at the academy, you have earned the right to be here but you'll have to prove yourself to stay. The way we do things matter. Protocol and tradition are the metal from which every police officer in this city is forged." He gives them a once over again. "Are we clear?" Seungcheol asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Seungcheol rounds the stand to where his papers are. "All of you can sit, except for Officer Kwon." He sizes Soonyoung up, folding his arms in front of him. "Normally, we would be doing the traditional introduction for new probationary officers but you," he takes a few steps towards Soonyoung, "are anything but traditional, Officer Kwon."

He clicks his tongue as Soonyoung places his arms behind his back in army stance. "So," Seungcheol continues, "I am giving you ten seconds to introduce yourself to the rest of the station before rumours start to spread like a wildfire."

Seungcheol signals for Soonyoung to turn around and face the rest of the station. You watch him take a shaky inhale. "I know that there's nothing that I can say in 10 seconds that will change everyone's opinions of me." He lets out a bitter chuckle as he shakes his head, looking at the floor. "Believe me, I've tried." He looks back up as he gives everyone a once over. "But I promise to always have your back and let my actions speak for themselves. And I promise to always strive to tip the scales towards justice." He locks eyes with you. "Because I know what it feels like when they're tipped the other way."

You feel Seokmin, Mingyu and Minghao all glance towards you, trying to gauge your reaction but you just continue to stare at your new rookie, who breaks eye contact as Seungcheol speaks. "And I want to make something very clear."

The whole room turns their attention back to Seungcheol. "Officer Kwon was found not guilty and he earned the right to be here like the rest of you." Seungcheol looks around the room. "He survived the academy, with phenomenal scores and I'd like to repeat," his eyes lock with yours, "that he has earned every right to be here."

You deadpan at the Sergeant, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he turns to Junhui. "Now, Sergeant Wen shall lead us to our training officers favourite activity," he starts, moving to the side. "The 'Training Officer Match-Up'."

Jun takes the stand before looking at the rookies at the front. "Our contestants for this years matchup are," Jun raises his hand to address them one by one with a smile on his face, he eyes the first one. "Boo Seungkwan, who I am told is the newest military band recruit."

Boo Seungkwan whose hair was dyed a light brown, gives everyone a small wave as Jun eyes the next one. "Hansol Vernon Chwe, whose parents hoped that he would have the force on his side."

You roll your eyes at the dad joke as Seokmin giggles beside you. You watch Vernon rub the back of his neck, whether from second-hand embarrassment or just embarrassment from the attention, you didn't know.

"Baby face, Lee Chan, who is our youngest rookie in history." The baby face in question dons light brown hair and smiles a huge infectious smile that slightly cracks your neutral facade. Jun's eyes sweep to the next one, his gaze hardening. "And as you've heard, our idol-legacy, Kwon Soonyoung."

Jun clears his throat, clapping his hands together as he turns to face you, Minghao, Mingyu and Seokmin. "And our winners are." His eyes flit downwards to his list. "Officer Lee, you get our newest choir boy."

Seokmin, buzzes with excitement making you glance at him, smiling softly. Being apart of the Military Band himself, you're sure that Seokmin and his rookie are going to get along very well.

"Officer Xu, you get our Star Wars fan." You glance at Minghao, a small smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at Jun's antics. "Officer Kim, you get our newest baby face." Mingyu shoots Chan a smile as you watch Soonyoung turn around and lock eyes with you. "Which leaves idol-legacy rookie Officer Kwon to ride with our very own legacy." Jun reads out your name from the list as you narrow your eyes at the rookie who gives you a small smile.

Seungcheol turns to address the rookies again. "Don't let today be your last. Forget the academy, listen to your TOs and you might just survive out there today."

You hear Minghao clear his throat beside you, no doubt holding back a smirk at the Sergeants' words as you shake your head at Seungcheol's antics. "Right, hop to it." Seungcheol claps his hands together. "Be safe out there."

Seokmin hops to his feet as he bids you and the rest goodbye, with promises to see you at lunch as he all but skips to meet his new rookie. The scene makes you laugh a little to yourself as you watch him animatedly introduce himself to Seungkwan before going to prepare their shop.

You stand up slowly with the other two, Mingyu stretching as he does, letting his back crack before shooting the two of you a toothy grin. "See you guys for lunch." He glances at you and Minghao, a cheeky smile on his face. "Don't make your rookies quit before lunch, I'd like to get to know them before you throw them into hell."

The two of you collectively roll your eyes as Minghao shoves Mingyu hard, making the taller man nearly collide into his own rookie. You immediately cover your mouth to muffle your giggles as Mingyu springs to apologize to the baby face while shooting your step-brother a sharp glare.

A small smirk plays on Minghaos lips as the two of you watch Mingyu and his rookie exit the briefing room. Minghao taps you on the shoulder, making you turn your attention to him as he levels with you. "Be safe." He starts sternly, glancing behind you, no doubt at your rookie, before looking back at you. "Call me if you anything happens, okay?"

Despite the nerves pricking at your skin, you jokingly roll your eyes as you mock a salute. "Will do, Sir!" Minghao rolls his eyes at your antics, shoving you softly before walking towards Vernon who's patiently waiting for him at the glass door of the briefing room. You watch them walk towards the logistics room before taking a deep breath and steeling your resolve as you turn to find Soonyoung standing right behind you.

"Ma'am." Soonyoung greets, a small smile on his face as you give him a once over, crossing your arms.

You internally sigh, this was going to be a long day. You briskly walk out of the room, not caring if he is behind you or not."

Soonyoung blinks in surprise and scrambles to catch up with you, nearly tripping over his own two feet. "I've heard a lot about you Ma'am, from the academy!" Soonyoung chirps up as he tries to keep up with your pace. "You are a legend! It's so nice to meet you—"

You stop abruptly, nearly causing Soonyoung to slam into you as you turn to face him, a scowl on your face. You glance behind the two of you, before Soonyoung feels himself be pushed into the interrogation room to your right, slamming the door behind you.

"Sit." He hears you say, eerily cold making Soonyoung blink.

"Pardon?" Soonyoung says as he watches you roll your eyes at him.

"You deaf, Boot?" You spit out before pointing to the chair across the table. "Take a seat!"

Soonyoung scrambles to take a seat. He watches you pace slowly around the room, walking a round around him before you lean against the table.

"Alright, Riot," you start slowly, making Soonyoung shudder at the nickname. "I want to make something very clear to you."

Soonyoung nods slowly, listening to your words. "I would hold off on any sentiment that you have from meeting me, Officer Kwon. I am going to make today the hardest day of your career, hell, the hardest day of your life." You start as Soonyoung watches you steel your gaze and lean closer. "You have twenty extra seconds to tell me why you think you deserve to be a police officer and why I shouldn't just wash you out now for a past that you can't run away from."

Soonyoung feels his throat dry up at your words as his eyes widen. "Twenty?" He manages to sputter out. "With all due respect ma'am, twenty seconds seems too little for you to just cut me over."

He watches you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up as you fold your arms. "Twenty crimes and scandals collectively." He hears you state, making him freeze, his heart sinking in his chest. "Is the reason why I am giving you twenty seconds, Boot. And honestly, it's plenty more than I should give you considering your track record."

"Which I was found not guilty for." Soonyoung finds himself saying before he can stop himself, making you scoff.

"Which some of the public disagrees with." You state, unfolding your arms and leaning against the table once again. "It doesn't matter whether you won the case or not Boot. The fact of the matter is that you were accused of them in the first place. Even if it was wrong time, wrong place that you and your godforsaken lawyer claimed in court, this isn't court. You can't be going around arguing with everyone who finds that ruling false."

You lean in closer again, causing Soonyoung's eyes to narrow. "So, twenty seconds to explain to me why you deserve to be here, why you aren't a liability to this department and a threat to my safety." You snarkily say before lifting your right arm. "Your twenty seconds start now, Boot. And if I like your answer…" You trail off, pulling away to steely eye him again.

"You can be sure that I'm going to make these next 546 Days a living hell."

When Soonyoung hears the click of your watch, he panics. He sputters out words, trying to plead his case but you just watch him, an unamused expression on your face. He runs through a thousand and one words in his mind, trying to find the right words to say but his mouth runs before his brain catches up.

"Of all the things I've heard about the department's legend, a quitter wasn't one of them."

Soonyoung watches you freeze, your eyes narrowing as you glare at him. "Watch yourself, Boot." He hears you coldly say but he catches your voice wavering just slightly.

Soonyoung has always been really good at reading people. It was one of the skills required to be an adaptable idol and he always used it to his advantage. Whether it be doing fan service for the fans or just charming the upper management when he was still under contract — he always managed to see what others didn't want.

So, with a leap of faith, he sees the angle and runs with it.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath before composing himself and flits his gaze to lock eyes with you. "No, I don't think I will, Ma'am." He coolly says as he crosses his arms. "Everyone at the academy was saying how much of a legend you are, taking on even the weakest rookies and turning them into machines." He shrugs. "Sure, some of them wash out…" he leans forward, "But I never would've thought that the department legend, Nova, would rule a rookie out without even giving him a chance."

"Riot-" You warn but Soonyoung interrupts you, his adrenaline and mouth running before he even has a chance to think.

"Ma'am, you're not even giving me a chance to prove myself." He pointedly says. "We haven't even gone on the shift yet and you have me here," he emphasizes by gesturing around the room, "Holed up in the interrogation room because you would rather use whatever you heard about me instead of getting to know me."

"Officer Kwon." You start but he interrupts you again by chuckling bitterly.

"How is that even going to work in your report?" Soonyoung challenges, voice low. "How are you going to tell the brass that one of their top scoring academy students, despite all that he has been through, washes out on the first day because Academy Legend, Nova, didn't even bother to give him a chance?"

Pin drop silence rings in the interrogation room as your watch goes off, signaling that his twenty seconds are over. Soonyoung stands up, still holding your fiery gaze as he matches with one of his own.

"So," he starts, after catching his breath, "Am I out or what?"

He watches you with bated breath, an unreadable expression on your face — which scares him more than it should — before you break eye contact and slam your fist on the table, making him flinch slightly. as you mutter out a string of Cantonese and Chinese curses under your breath. He watches you run a hand down your face before you glare at him again. "You got one shift, Kwon." You spit out, rounding the table to stand in-front of him. "But make no mistake," you press a finger into his chest, "One wrong move and you can kiss this cop career goodbye."

He swallows, as you raise an eyebrow. "Are. We. Clear?" You bite out making him nod slowly.

"Crystal."

You stare at him for a couple more seconds before you take a step back. "Go set up our shop Riot."

Soonyoung gives you a brief nod before walking out of the room, closing the interrogation door behind him with a soft 'thud'. He leans against the wall and lets out a shaky exhale as his heart continues to thunder in his ears. He honestly couldn't believe that he just did that. He stood up to you and basically called you a quitter and somewhat of a coward to your face. To you, the cutthroat Medusa or Nova of the Academy.

"Good going, dipshit." He mutters to himself, pushing off the wall. He feels the pit in his stomach get deeper as he walks to the logistics room to get the gear. "This is going to be a long day."

REPORT 1 OF 546 - SNIPED THROUGH THE HEART

At the academy, they run a lot of simulations. For example a bank robbery, a hostage situation that is about to hit the fan, hell they even run you through a simulation of what happens when you get kidnapped.

But none of the simulations could ever prepare Soonyoung for the cold shoulder that you've given him since the interrogation room. You've barely said more than three sentences since leaving the station, the shops' air uncomfortable with awkward silence.

Soonyoung wants to apologize to you but he know that he can't do that by any means. He had said those things for a reason and he will not apologize for saying all those things if it means that you give him a chance.

Which is how he ends up in this situation at lunch.

"You said WHAT?" Soonyoung winces at Seungkwan's loud outburst as he recalls the morning to his fellow rookies, leaving Seungkwan baffled, Chan's jaw dropped open in shock and Vernon who looks dumbfounded at all the words that just came out of his mouth.

"Keep your voice down, Boo." Soonyoung hisses, glancing around to see a few of the officers side-eyeing the four of them. "Do you want me to get condemned even more?"

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "You should for all the stupid words that have been coming out of your mouth. He sarcastically states, making Soonyoung shoot him a glare as Chan shakes his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you actually had the balls to say that to her." Chan says, making Soonyoung groan, placing his head in his hands.

"I can." Vernon nonchalantly quips back, taking a sip of his soda, and making Soonyoung's head shoot up to glare at the man who just shrugs back at him.

"I'd be surprised if you actually make it through the day, Kwon." Seungkwan states, stabbing his fork into his salad bowl before shoveling the salad into his mouth.

Soonyoung slouches in his chair, his face full of disdain. "I'm fucked," he mutters out, glancing towards the three other rookies. "Aren't I?"

The three share a glance with each other, having a silent conversation which makes Soonyoung groan again. He had met the three on his first day at the academy, and despite knowing who he was and the fire he was under, they welcomed him with open arms, Chan jokingly stating that they would rather have him in their group to keep an eye on him. You know, keep your friends close but exonerated murderers closer.

Soonyoung lets out a surprised laugh at that while Seungkwan chastises the younger man for even thinking of making a joke like that as Vernon shakes his head, a small amused smirk on his face. He learned that the three were childhood friends, having grown up living on the same street as each other. There were times where Seungkwan and Vernon mentioned a fourth person being in their group but immediately shut their mouth about it whenever Chan was around.

Soonyoung, not wanting to pry, never asked about it because of the incident during their academy days where Seungkwan accidentally said their name and Chan immediately shut down for the rest of the week. Sure, Soonyoung would be lying if he said he wasn't even a little bit curious about what Chan's past was with that person, but he knew better than anyone else that some wounds and stories just aren't meant to be opened.

"Well, on the bright side," Chan starts, nudging him, "at least you managed to make it through the first half of the shift." He says a little chirpily, trying to lighten the mood as Vernon nods, giving Soonyoung a thumbs up as Seungkwan scoffs.

"Unless Medusa turns him to stone and eats him alive later." Seungkwan mutters out before letting out a yelp as Chan whacks him in the shoulder blade, a sign to keep quiet. Seungkwan levels him with a glare. "Why you little—"

The two start to bicker as a few officers glance over at the two to see what the commotion is about as Soonyoung and Vernon share a tired glance, not knowing whether to stop them or hide more into their rookie uniforms in embarrassment. Soonyoung glances towards you, sitting at the training officer table with the rest, an easy smile on your face that makes him frown slightly. He really needs a way to prove you wrong. And he needs to find it as soon as possible.

On the other side of the courtyard, as you're the talk of the rookie table, Soonyoung is the talk of yours. "So," Mingyu says, taking a seat opposite you with his tray as you're munching on your salad bowl. "Have you cut him yet?"

You roll your eyes. "Ha.Ha." You say sarcastically, stabbing a piece of lettuce."Very funny, Gyu."

Minghao takes the seat on your right while Seokmin sits to your left, giving you a small smile. "Judging from the fact that he's sitting with the rest of our rookies," Minghao starts, nodding towards the rookie table. "I take it he had a passable morning?" He asks, making you shrug your shoulders.

"I tried to give him the old fashioned Medusa talk and he didn't budge." You mutter out, moving the salad around in the bowl. "In fact, he has some balls, called me something of a coward for trying to cut him before he even makes it out for the shift."

The three go quiet, making you glance up from your food, looking at the three blinking at you, their eyes wide. You furrow your eyebrows. "What?" You ask pointedly, a little uneasy by the looks on their faces. Mingyu blinks. Once. Twice. "I'm shocked that you didn't throw him out of the shop as soon as you started your shift." Mingyu states, a little shell-shocked, making Seokmin nod.

"I'm surprised he didn't come back with any bodily injuries." Seokmin quips back making you snort in disbelief at the two taller men.

"Shut up you two." You mutter out as Soonyoung's words keep ringing in your mind as if they're on replay. You grimace slightly at the memory before glancing at said rookie at the table, happily eating his lunch which makes you grimace even more.

Minghao notices, glancing towards your rookie before locking eyes with you, his gaze fleeting all over you, calculating and analyzing. You raise an eyebrow at his look. "What?" You ask, making Minghao shrug.

"Nothing. It's just…" He trails off, as if unsure if he should say it or not. It makes you uneasy.

"Spit it out Hao."

He chews his bottom lip before relenting. "If he really doesn't have what it takes like you said, you would have already taken all the high risk calls this morning so that you could wash him out as fast as possible." Minghao steels his gaze on you, tilting his head slightly. "So, is there a reason why you haven't?" You gnaw on your bottom lip. You knew the reason why.

Firstly, it's the fact that Soonyoung is right, his scores are impeccable, there was no reason for you to want to wash him out as much as you really wanted to. He is the perfect rookie on paper, almost on par with you and Hao, but he was right, you didn't know him. Second, the more obvious reason is of course the more selfish one where you could lose your job if he washes out. But you couldn't tell Hao that, so you settled for something… in the middle.

"Honestly," You start, "I want him to realize for himself that he isn't cut out for this job." You wave your fork around. "I mean, we've all been through it as well, it was hard for us the first few months. The academy can only teach you so much, when we got out of there, we were like baby birds trying to figure out how to fly again."

The three go quiet, slowly digesting your words. You had been thinking about this since this morning. You've heard Seungcheol talk about it a few times, when rookies quit on their own terms, it doesn't go on your permanent record which means that the brass would be forced to give you another rookie. Any rookie would be better than this stuck-up idol-legacy and you're sure of it.

You take a deep breath. "So, I took it easy this morning to draw him into a false sense of security before we take all the high risk calls the rest of the shift." A semi-white lie.

"Damn," Mingyu whistles, breaking the silence. "That's a very Medusa of you, Nova."

Seokmin nods. "It a little scary how your brain works Nova." He shudders. "I'm so glad that I'm on your good side."

The tension breaks as Minghao shoots you a smirk and you laugh a little at Seokmin's words. "Shut up." You say, with no actual malice this time, a small smile making its way onto your face. "Eat your food losers before we're actually late for the next half of our shift."

The rest of the lunch is filled with easy banter as you and the rest of the guys joke around, conversations flowing easily before Seokmin glances at Mingyu's watch. "Well," He lifts Mingyu's arm up. "That's all folks!" He cheerily says with a wink, making you laugh as Mingyu rolls his eyes at Seokmin's antics. He pulls his arm away from Seokmin, shoving him slightly.

"Get your own watch you loser." Seokmin lets out an astounded gasp at Mingyu's shove and opens his mouth, ready to bicker when Minghao puts up a hand, stopping the two.

"Please," he deadpans, "don't start."

Mingyu and Seokmin share a glance with each other, before turning back to the mediator. "But he—" Seokmin starts but immediately shrinks back seeing Minghao's motherly glare, looking a little like a kicked puppy.

You shake your head at their antics before standing up, rolling your shoulders. "Right," You start before eyeing your brother. "Can you help me clear my trash? I got a rookie to straighten out."

Minghao stares at you for a moment before he begrudgingly nods, making you give him a smile and a back hug. "You're the best!"

He rolls his eyes but pats your arms nonetheless. "Yeah yeah," He drawls out. "You only say that when I do something for you."

You pull away. "Because you're the best when you help your baby sister do stuff."

"Step-sister." He corrects making you roll your eyes before you bid them goodbye.

You walk over to the rookie table, steeling yourself when the baby face meets your gaze and his eyes widen as you try not to smirk at the way he starts to lose his composure. You stop right behind Soonyoung's chair before kicking it lightly, making him jump before he turns and locks eyes with you. You gesture to the shop. "C'mon Boot." You snark out. "Crime ain't going to fight itself."

You walk backwards as Soonyoung's eyes widen before he scrambles to his feet, ready to follow you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms. "Leaving without clearing your trash, Riot?" He stills at that as he turns to face the table where his food wrappers still were. "Are you expecting your fellow rookies to clear up after you?"

"No, Ma'am." He mumbles, grabbing the food wrappers and tossing them into the nearby bin as you see his fellow rookies all share a look with each other. You roll your eyes as the blonde man made his way to you before the two of you stalk off to the shop together.

The three rookies watch as the two of you walk away, Soonyoung scrambling to catch up with your fast pace. For someone shorter than him, you sure are fast. After the amusing scene, Chan eyes Vernon and Seungkwan. "I bet you $100 that she's gonna try to make him quit before end of shift today."

Seungkwan rolls his eyes as he picks up his trash. "No duh." He sarcastically states, "That's basically free money for you. We should bet on something more interesting."

Chan frowns at that statement. "Like what?" Seungkwan shrugs, throwing his trash away.

"I bet you $500 that they're going to get together." Vernon states nonchalantly, clearing his tray before placing it above the trash can. Chan and Seungkwan freeze at the statement before looking at Vernon as if he had grown a second head. Vernon looks over the two before he frowns. "What?" He asks, curious about their expressions.

"Bro," Chan drawls. "Those two?"

Vernon shrugs. "I can see it happening."

Seungkwan shakes his head in disbelief. "I think she would rather die than date Kwon."

Vernon eyes the two before raising an eyebrow. "Then it's easy money for the two of you right?" He challenges making Chan and Seungkwan look at each other, as if calculating the risks.

Vernon lifts up his hand making Chan smirk, shrugging slightly. "Sure, I'm in." He grabs Vernon's hand, shaking it.

The two look towards Seungkwan who looks like he's still contemplating before he lets out a sigh, taking Vernon's hand. "Fuck it, I'm in."

Vernon grins at the two as Seungkwan rolls his eyes again. "Don't look so happy," Seungkwan quips, starting to walk to where his training officer was with Chan by his side. "You're going to be down a thousand dollars by the end of this."

Vernon shrugs his shoulders, trailing after him before glancing at the two of you again. Soonyoung clumsily stalking after you as you try not to roll your eyes as he almost trips over air. He smiles a little to himself. "We'll see."

The shop is quiet again, the awkward silence unbearable as you drive around. You keep feeling Soonyoung's stares and glances drill into the side of your head. At first you could avoid it, focusing on the road ahead, but it didn't take long before it began to annoy you.

"If you have something to say, Boot." You say, shocking Soonyoung as your voice pierces through the silence. "Spit it out."

You see Soonyoung pull his bottom lip between his teeth from the corner of your eye as he gnaws on it before sighing. "I- I," his voice cracks slightly, no doubt from his nerves as he clears his throat. "I just wanted to thank you for giving me a chance, Ma'am. I promise you that I won't let you down."

His words make you glance at him and upon noticing the hope sparkling in his eyes, you sigh. "Like I said earlier, Officer Kwon," Your tone hard, "I would hold off on any sentiment. We had a slow start to our shift which means you still have the whole other half of it to make mistakes, so don't make promises that you can't keep." You raise an eyebrow and lock eyes with him through the rear view mirror. "Understood?"

Soonyoung visibly swallows, giving you a curt nod before he proceeds to stare out the window, taking note of the street signs.

The two of you continue to drive before you hear a gunshot, making Soonyoung flinch as your gaze hardens. "Kwon, radio it-" You stop as you watch the car in front of you swerve to the side before crashing into a lamppost making your eyes widen as you quickly pull over to the side, unbuckling and hopping out of the car in record speed as Soonyoung does the same.

You and Soonyoung pull out your guns as you round to the drivers seat and your heart drops. You see a male in his late forties, three gunshot wounds to the chest as the blood begins to seep into his shirt. You turn towards the windscreen, eyes narrowing as you notice the three shots bunched up together. You internally curse, pulling out your radio and looking at the high rise buildings. "Control, 7-Adam-21," You scan the high rise buildings. "We got an active sniper with a long gun at the 45 Bronco Avenue. Requesting backup and patch me through to 7-Adam-100."

"Copy." You hear dispatch state before there was static and Seungcheols voice patches through.

"Nova? What's going on?"

"Sir, we have an active sniper at the 45 Bronco Avenue." You repeat, actively scanning the buildings. "Requesting for you to shut down all eastbound traffic from Main and have Vanguard on stand-by, just in case."

"Copy." You blink in surprise as Jun's voice patches through. "Vanguard will secure the perimeter. Stay safe, Nova."

"Copy." You state, a small smile on your face at Jun's concern before Seungcheol's voice patches through again.

"Nova, Kim and Xu are on their way to your location, one minute out. Wen, I've sent Lee and his rookie to meet up with you to secure the perimeter."

"Copy Sarge." Jun says. "Nova, you and your rookie secure the scene, do not go after the shooter before backup arrives."

"Noted." You state before you address the crowd that had gathered in a panic. "Get off the street! We have an active shooter!" Your heartbeat thuds in your ear, pounding as you feel your blood pulse before you whip around to address Soonyoung. "Kwon-" You pause, noticing Soonyoung staring at the body, his face pale. You frown, "Kwon?"

He doesn't hear you, continuing to stare at the body, his chest pulsing faster and faster. Your eyes widen, realizing what was going on before you round the front of the vehicle to his side. "Kwon." You sternly say, reaching over and turning him around by his shoulders as he starts to hyperventilate. You force him to sit down, his body wrecking with uneven breathing as you gaze all over his face, your mind racing. "Breathe, Kwon! Deep breaths." You chastise, watching as his eyes unevenly focus everywhere except you, like you weren't even there in front of him.

You gnaw on your bottom lip before your ears perk up, hearing sirens behind you. You turn around, noticing Minghao and Mingyu step out of their respective shops. They jog over to you, faces serious with their rookies right behind.

"What have you got?" Minghao asks.

You stand up, blocking their view of Soonyoung. "We got a shooter, sniper from what I can tell from the bunched up shots through the windshield." You nudge your thumb towards it, your words urgent. "I've notified Sarge already, he's shutting down all traffic from Main and Vanguard is securing the perimeter with Seokmin and his rookie." You glance downwards at your rookie who is still in his head before looking towards your two fellow training officers. "We've lost about five minutes on the target but judging from the shots, I'd say they were at either of the Northwest buildings over there from the traffic flow." You gesture towards the buildings.

Chan and Vernon who were behind their TOs notice Soonyoung, their eyes wide as they start to walk towards him. You hold up a hand, stopping them in their tracks, a sharp gaze in your eyes. "I'll deal with him." You sternly say before turning back to Mingyu and Minghao. "I'll get him out of this rut and I'll secure the scene, we're already loosing precious time, go after the sniper."

Mingyu and Minghao share a glance before looking back at you, nodding curtly. They take off down the street, pulling out their guns. "C'mon, Chwe." Minghao calls out, making the rookie give one last glance to Soonyoung before jogging after his TO and clearing the streets. Chan however, ignores his TO's calls and continues to stare at Soonyoung, frozen to the spot even as Mingyu runs further away.

"Officer Lee." You call out to him, making his head snap to you, meeting your stern gaze. "I will deal with him. Follow after your training officer." You watch him swallow, opening his mouth to protest but you stop him. "If you don't, I will personally see to it that your TO writes you a blue page for not following orders." He pales a little at that which makes your gaze soften slightly, as you let out a small sigh.

"I will take care of him." You reassure, your voice still carrying the stern edge. "I promise."

He looks between you and his friend again before nodding and chasing after his training officer. You sigh, crouching back down to your rookie. You call out to him a few times before realizing that you need to shock him out of this anxiety driven state. Taking a deep breath, you slam your hands down hard onto his shoulders, startling him as you almost snap him out of it. He immediately locks eyes with you.

"Kwon." You sternly breathe out, looking directly into his eyes as his breathing is still uneven. "I need you with me." You mutter sternly, trying to get through to him. "I know it's a shocking discovery seeing a dead body but, I need you to focus on me and get through it."

He stares at you, his eyes still glassy as his breathing still doesn't stabilize. You gnaw on your bottom lip, mind racing before taking a deep breath and changing tactics.

You aren't sure if tough love would work, but you needed it to because there was a shooter at large while you're here trying to get your older rookie to get the hell back onto his feet. You level with him again.

"Officer Kwon." You spit out, shocking the rookie. "I need you to get the fuck back up on your feet." He stares at you, his breathing starting to even out due to your harsh words, colour returning to his face. You continue to get him to focus on you, coaxing him with hard words before the glaze in his eyes fade as colour fully returns to his face.

"Okay?" You ask. He shakily nods which makes you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You give him a once over before moving him to the opposite side of the street as he starts to regain his senses. You grab a bottle of water from the shop and hand it to him, not bothering to look at him before securing the scene. You don't know how long you spent trying to get Soonyoung out of his episode before navigating the scene, but Seungcheol appears as supervisor on scene.

"Nova." He greets before looking around you, his eyebrows furrowing as he frowns. "Where's your rookie?" You grimace, gesturing to the opposite end of the street where Soonyoung is, clutching the water bottle as if it's his lifeline.

Seungcheol follows your gaze before his frown deepens. "Did he puke?"

You shake your head. "Panic attack." You simply state, crossing your arms as you both stare at your rookie. "Seeing the bullet holes and the body seems to have brought up some… unpleasant memories." You give Seungcheol a condescending look. "Almost as if he shouldn't be a cop."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Luckily," he starts, a smirk pulling at his lips. "He has the best TO in the business to get him through this." You roll your eyes, ready to retort when Mingyu and Minghao jog up to the two of you, their faces grim. You watch as their two rookies immediately break away from them and jog towards your rookie before you focus on the two other TOs, your heart dropping at their expressions.

"You didn't get them did you?" The two shake their heads, matching frowns on their faces as you let out a small groan.

"Fucker got away on a zip-line before we managed to get a read on them." Mingyu bitterly states, slowly catching his breath. "We also didn't get a good look at him before he jumped off the building via zipline." Mingyu pulls out his city-issued phone, a picture of the scene on it.

You and Seungcheol lean closer, examining the picture. "Looks like the guy has elite training." You note making Minghao nod grimly.

"Mingyu and I accessed the scene after he jumped out and it looks like it was pre-planned, Sarge. The pegs in the walls to hold the zip-line look like they were hammered in, a day or two ago."

Seungcheol's eyebrows raise before fixing his gaze on Mingyu. "I'm surprised you didn't jump out after him, Kim."

You let out a snort as Mingyu blinks, a little stunned by Seungcheol's statement before scoffing. "Well, I was halfway out the window when Xu pulled me back, sir." He sarcastically states making Seungcheol roll his eyes, a ghost of a smirk tugging on the sides of his lips.

Minghao, who was examining the body and the scene, chews on his bottom lip before calling out to Seungcheol. "Sarge. We're definitely looking for a professional here."

Seungcheol's eyebrow raises. "What makes you say that?"

Minghao points towards the windscreen. "Moving car and still manages to hit their target dead center in the chest?" Minghao shakes his head. "I can think of maybe a couple dozen professionals who can do that." Seungcheol absorbs Minghao's words and nods.

"Well, at least that narrows the search down to a couple dozen people." Seungcheol says as your phone buzzes, you bring it out, scanning the report.

"Our victims name is Viktor Park." You begin to read. "He was an accountant working for ANB Funds and Savings before he quit his job. Database says that he was cited on about a dozen different laundering cases but never caught."

Seungcheol grimaces at that, "Sounds like we're looking for a gun for hire then." You glance back towards the car as you try to piece everything together while Minghao speaks up, almost as if he was reading your mind as he goes through the process bit by bit.

"So," Minghao clicks his tongue. "Viktor is a man of routine and judging from his car and the amount of papers that had fallen out of his briefcase," He gestures to the scattered papers at the backseat. "It looks like he was going to work. If he is a man of routine, it means that he drives down this street everyday because our shooter was just waiting for him to turn up."

Mingyu nods at Minghao's words. "So, maybe the person Viktor was working with needed him dead because they were scared that Viktor was going to leak information about the job?"

Seungcheol nods slowly. "Maybe." He states. "But we need to look at the facts and investigate." He runs a hand down his face. "Just our luck that we're down our detectives today because one's out sick and the other is dealing with the overrun cases in homicide."

You glance at Seungcheol before looking at Minghao and clearing your throat. "Well, Minghao has been studying to take the detectives exam in two weeks." You state, making the three men turn to you. Minghao blinks, shooting you a panicked, 'what are you doing' look. The action makes you shoot him a reassuring wink before continuing. "You could give him your all-powerful speech and make him detective just for the case." You lock eyes with Seungcheol, giving him a cheeky look before lifting a finger. "Plus," You add. "It's good on the job learning experience."

You watch as the gears turn in Seungcheol's head before he nods, turning to Minghao, who looks like he's trying very hard to decide if he wanted to murder you or thank you. "By the power vested in me— come here." He gestures for Minghao to take a step forward, making you and Mingyu stifle your giggles at how Minghao stiffly steps forward. "By the power vested in me by the LAPD, I hereby declare you Detective for the case." Seungcheol says, knighting Minghao. "With great power comes great responsibility."

You let out a snort at the famous quote, quickly covering your mouth as Minghao looks like he's about to puke from the immense pressure. Seungcheol claps a hand onto Minghao's shoulder. "You'll be fine, Xu." He says reassuringly. "Now, I'm assigning Nova and Kim to you as well because it looks like you need the extra set of hands." Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Understood?"

Minghao visibly swallows before shallowly nodding, his still slightly pale face making Seungcheol smile and walk off to go relieve Jun and Seokmin from the perimeter. As soon as Seungcheol is out of earshot, Minghao turns towards you and Mingyu who had matching smiles on your faces. "I hate you." Minghao deadpans, making your eyes roll.

"No you don't." You quip back, making Minghao shake his head.

"I'm not ready for such a big responsibility, Pixie!" He exclaims nervously, making you soften, seeing your older brother in distress, actually believing that he wasn't ready for this.

"Hao," You gently start, grabbing your brothers hand in yours. "You analyzed the scene and connected the dots in half the time that I did, even though I was the one who secured the scene." You give his hand a quick squeeze, a small smile on your face. "You're the best one to take the task out of the four of us."

Minghao looks at you, gnawing at his bottom lip before glancing at Mingyu who gives him a reassuring smile, swinging an arm around his shoulders. "She's right." Mingyu simply assures, "You've also been studying for this exam for like ever!" He exaggerates, waving his other arm animatedly, making you giggle at his antics as a small smile ghosts over Minghao's lips. "Having this hands-on experience might make it a whole lot easier to digest the information and further prepare you for the exam."

Minghao digests both of your words, glancing between the two of you before letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, visibly relaxing. "You're right." He says, his nerves steeling. "Let's get started then."

You grin widely at your older step-brother who has a look full of determination, "That's the spirit!" You hum out, letting go of his hand. "Alright, Detective Xu." You tease, making Mingyu laugh as Minghao shakes his head at your antics. "Where shall we start?"

Minghao thinks for a beat. "Well, first we need to secure all evidence in the car, his briefcase, phone, wallet as well as the papers are all evidence for the case." He glances towards Mingyu, "Can you and your rookie help to further secure the scene? I'll get dispatch to send forensics to relieve you guys later."

Mingyu takes a quick glance at you before nodding. "On it." He says before calling out to his rookie. Chan scrambles up, shooting Soonyoung one last look before he scurries over to Mingyu as they start to secure the scene and bag evidence.

"How come you didn't want me to further secure the scene?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Minghao's gaze shifts to you before glancing towards where your rookie and his sit, making you frown as the information clicks in your head. "Right." You mutter as Minghao gives you a sympathetic look.

"As much as I want you here with me, working the scene," He chews his bottom lip slightly. "It seems as though your rookie needs to work through a couple of things before he can be allowed onto any homicide scene."

"So, you don't need me?" You ask him, voice small, making him shake his head 'no'.

"I need you and your boot to check with control and ask them to form a list of the couple dozen that could've done this to our victim. See what you can dig up on them before we knock on doors." His eyes darken as he grimaces. "Our hitman already murdered in broad daylight. I'd hate to see what would happen if we didn't have any backup." You nod slowly as Minghao locks eyes with you, his eyes softening. "There's no one else I trust with this job, Pixie." He assures, his voice gentle. "You're my number one. I'll always need you, okay?"

His assurance brings a small smile to your face as you nod in understanding. He pats your head once. "Let's get to work then." He says before looking towards the pavement where both your rookies sit, in silence it looks like. You gnaw on your bottom lip as Minghao calls Vernon over, making the rookie give Minghao a curt nod. He gives Soonyoung a solid pat on the back before he stands up and jogs over to his TO, a tense expression on his face. Minghao shoots you a look before going back to the scene as you heave out a sigh.

You walk over to your rookie, whose colour had returned to his face, and stand before him. "C'mon." You mutter, turning on your heel and walking back to the shop, pulling out your walkie in the process. "Control, I need a list of retired Army Personnel that have a registered long gun to their name."

"Copy, will be sent to your box upon completion."

As dispatch clicks off, you slip into the front seat as Soonyoung slips into shotgun, not meeting your gaze as he clears his throat.

"Ma'am, I—"

You hold up your hand, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath before opening them. "Save it, Kwon." You mutter out bitterly, shooting him a look of disbelief. "All this time when you were training to become a cop, it never occurred to you that you might need to walk into a murder scene?"

Soonyoung gnaws on his bottom lip, hesitating a little before answering. "I thought I was better. I haven't had a panic attack since my fifth session of therapy which was almost a year ago." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I guess seeing this in person again was just a little more overwhelming than I thought it would be."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Just a little?" You pointedly ask which makes him heave a sigh again.

"But this is good," Soonyoung starts, "I found another trigger and I'll continue to work through it to become a better version of myself."

You shake your head at that, chuckling to yourself in disbelief. "This isn't a therapy session, Riot." You bitter state, as you try not to burst out in anger. "This is people's lives we're talking about. What happens when we're out on the street and you have a panic attack because there's someone else lying in a pool of blood while we're in the middle of a shoot out?" You ask, getting angrier by the second as Soonyoung watches you with wide eyes. "What happens then, Officer Kwon?" You hiss out as you jab a finger into his chest, your fiery gaze hard on him. "Will you just leaving me hanging on the edge of death because you can't work through your issues? Or will you die in the line of duty because you were paralyzed?"

Silence envelops the shop at that, your chest heaving as you catch your breath from spitting out the words laced with venom, causing Soonyoung to pale even more under your stare. You take a deep breath before removing your finger pressed against his chest as you lean back into your seat. "Work through your issues on your own time, Riot." You bitterly bite out, taking the shop out of park. "If not, we're going to have a serious problem."

For the next two and a half hours, you and Soonyoung work together in silence, researching and documenting the information that Minghao needed before you and the rest could go knocking on doors. A knock on the briefing room door interrupts your silence. You peer up to see Minghao standing there, leaning against the doorframe. "How's everything?" He asks, making you shrug.

"No complaints here." You say a little curtly making Minghao's eyebrow raise, sensing your tone. He doesn't push though, not that you expect him to. He was always professional in front of your rookies, but you know that as soon as you guys get home today, he will definitely annoy you till you tell him what it was about.

You silently grimace at the thought before pushing it away. Minghao looks at the whiteboard you and Soonyoung set up with the information for the case, scanning it with a slight bit of pride in his eyes. "Ready to call in the team?" He asks, making you nod.

"Let's do it."

Less than twenty minutes later, you are seated on top of the briefing room tables (much to Minghao's distaste) in between Mingyu and Seokmin as your rookies sit on top of the tables, a few rows behind you with a couple dozen officers in between the rows. Minghao stands at the front with Vernon seated at a table by the whiteboard, while Seungcheol and Jun scan the whiteboard you and Soonyoung had filled in. Seungcheol turns to look at you. "Alright, Nova, walk us through it." You give him a curt nod before standing up and ushering for Soonyoung to hand out the hard copy prints.

"On your hardcopy list, you will find one of the dozen targets that Officer Kwon and I have accessed using the records to figure out which one could be our sniper. It's shorter than our list from this morning but an even dozen is still a lot." You pick up a laser pointer from the side of the whiteboard before continuing, shining on the map shown at the side. "Officer Xu will be splitting you guys into four respective groups and each group will be dealing with a section of the map that Officer Kwon and I have narrowed down. We have reason to believe that our suspect is still armed and he isn't afraid of us, so thread carefully and never leave each other without backup."

You glance at Minghao, who gives you a curt nod before taking over as you go back to your seat. "Nova and her rookie have pulled their last known addresses from the database, their respective military missions where they served as well as any priors they may have had since being discharged from the army." Minghao grabs a list from the table before glancing around the room. "I'll be splitting you into your respective sections now so listen up."

He goes down the list, grouping people together until he reaches the last section. "Lastly, in Section D, we have Officer Kim, Officer Lee and Nova, with their rookies respectively." He says, glancing over at you and the two tall training officers. The three of you nod your head before Minghao addresses the room again.

"Sergeant Wen and his Vanguard unit will be securing a perimeter, if any of us need any help or our suspects try to run. Sergeant Choi and I will be stationed in the middle of the perimeter in a stakeout van just in case anything goes wrong." He takes a deep breath before raising an eyebrow. "Any questions?" The room was silent as Minghao scans the faces before clapping his hand. "Alright, let's get to it."

The room clears out, the different sections trailing out as Minghao turns to the three of you. "Would you like Officer Chwe as additional backup?"

You share a glance with the other two, calculating. "I guess it wouldn't hurt…" Seokmin starts as Mingyu raises an eyebrow.

"Will Choi allow you to just pass us your rookie?"

Minghao shrugs at Mingyu's question. "From Nova's list, it seems that your section has more of the dangerous targets. I don't think he would mind if I sent Chwe with you as an extra set of hands, plus," he glances towards his rookie who is still seated with the three of yours. "He won't learn a lot from me just sitting in the stake out van."

Minghao turns his attention back to the three of you. "So, what do you say?"

You quickly glance at Mingyu and Seokmin before nodding. "Sure, wouldn't hurt, just check with Sarge to see if that's okay, though." You stand up from the desk, stretching slightly. "Right, we're going to set up the shops, you should go ask Sarge now."

Minghao gives you guys a nod, turning to go find Seungcheol before Seokmin and Mingyu turn their gazes to you with a look on their face. You raise an eyebrow at both of them. "What?" You ask, getting a little uneasy at their hard stares.

"Are you sure about bringing your rookie with you after what happened today?" Seokmin carefully asks, making you blink at him in disbelief.

"Who told you?" You ask, pointedly as Mingyu looks away, a little sheepishly as the tip of his ears turned slightly pink.

Seokmin clears his throat as you shoot Mingyu a glare. "That's not the point, Nova." Seokmin says, turning you away from Mingyu and locks eyes with you, concern sparkling in them. "If you want to leave Kwon here because you feel like he isn't ready, I'm sure Sarge will understand that and let him work the front desk. Then you can take Chwe as your backup."

You stare at Seokmin, gnawing on your bottom lip as you consider his words. He is right. After the incident this afternoon, you have no reason to let Soonyoung out onto the street. Minghao probably wanted to assign Vernon under you for that exact reason — to look out for you and your rookie. You turn to look at Soonyoung who is seated with his back turned to you as he chats with the other three rookies. He smiles, almost adoringly as Chan and Seungkwan animatedly argue with each other about something as Vernon sits there, shaking his head in embarrassment.

You look at him for a beat too long before turning back to meet Seokmin's gaze. "I can't take the easy way out to train him, Sunshine." You say softly, your gaze hardening with determination. "I also can't spoonfeed him and just let him stay at the desk because it's going to get hard and he can't handle it." You shake your head. "That's not my style and that's not the training officer he needs. So," You take a breath before plastering on a determined smile, "I say he's going onto the field."

Seokmin stares at you, worry etched into his features as he glances over at Mingyu, who has a similar expression on his face. The two of them have a silence conversation before Seokmin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he relents, shaking his head. "But you are to stay with me and Boo at your 8 and 9 O'clock at any given time." He raises an eyebrow, "Understood?"

You roll your eyes at his words. "What am I? Five?" You quip back, folding your arms. "I don't need babysitting."

Seokmin sighs at your stubbornness as Mingyu speaks up. "Your brother—"

"Step-brother." You interrupt, making him roll his eyes as he breezes past your comment.

"—has asked Seok and I to keep an eye on you and your rook out in the field. I know that you can handle yourself, Nova, but this assignment can go south at any moment. So, if anything happens, I don't want you playing 'Hero' with a backup who couldn't even handle it when he saw a dead body this morning."

Seokmin nods as he levels you with a sympathetic expression. "We're just looking out for you, Nova, just like you would look out for us." A small smile appears on his lips. "Plus, we can't have four musketeer movie night if we're missing a musketeer."

You let out a breath of a laugh making Seokmin smile wider before he grabs your hands, his expression softening to one of concern. "Just promise us, please?"

You glance between the two older men before sighing and nodding your head. "Fine," you mumble, "I promise."

Seokmin nods, satisfied with your promise, giving your hands a squeeze before Minghao walks back into the meeting room. "Rolling out in five!" He announces, clicking his tongue. "And Sarge gave the all clear for Chwe to join the three of you."

Seokmin gives him a nod. "He can ride with me then."

Minghao nods, thankful for Seokmin's initiative before calling out to Vernon. "You'll be riding with Officer Lee and his boot," Minghao says sternly. "Watch their six and don't do anything stupid." He warns, his gaze hard on Vernon who swallows nervously and nods. "Yes, Sir."

Minghao locks eyes with both Mingyu and Seokmin as they silently chat, making Seokmin hop out of his seat. "Right, let's go grab extra gear." He says to Mingyu, the taller man nodding as they call out to their rookies plus Vernon, before heading out of the glass briefing room.

Soonyoung makes his way to you when Minghao held up his hand, freezing Soonyoung in place. "I need a chat with your TO, Kwon."

Soonyoung pauses at that as you internally sigh, turning to look at your rookie. "Follow Officer Lee and Officer Kim, they will brief you on how to set up our shop properly." Soonyoung takes once last glance between you and Minghao before nodding. "Yes, Ma'am."

He jogs out of the room to catch up with the others, making you turn back to your step-brother who is already fixing you with a look that you're all too familiar with. "I'll be fine." You assure him before he can say anything as you roll your eyes. "God, you guys are acting like I haven't been doing this for like, ever."

Minghao rolls his eyes at your words. "I haven't even said anything, Pixie."

You scoff, folding your arms. "You didn't have to, Hao." You shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him. "Telling Seok and Gyu to look after me? C'mon, Hao, I thought you knew that I was better at discerning these things for myself."

"Of course I know that you can discern these things for yourself, Nova," He says. "Doesn't change the fact that you have a wildcard for a rookie, who has some trauma despite his amazing numbers, and that I'm not on the field to have your back today." He factually states, shaking his head. "Plus, you also tend to let your ego get the better of you in situations like this." Your gaze slightly hardens at his words as you feel a slight thud in your chest, his words piercing you like a knife.

He shakes his head, noticing the change in your expression. "It's not a bad thing, Nova, it happens to the best of us when we think we can handle something that we can't control." He sighs, his voice dropping lower. "It's happened to all of us, you can attest to that, you were there." He runs a hand through his hair. "I just need you to push your Nova-persona to the side for a second and question whether this is actually the right move, please."

Hearing his voice crack and the pleading tone laced in his words, makes your anger dissipate slightly. You know that he means well and he has a point. However, it doesn't change the fact that he thinks that your ego is clouding your judgment, though. You take a slow inhale, composing yourself and clearing your head before fixing your eyes on your older brother. "Hao, I'll be fine. Like I said, this isn't my first rodeo." You say, as gently as you could while still being serious. "As for Kwon, I'll handle it if things go wrong. I just need you to trust me, please."

Minghao stares at you for a few seconds before sighing out in exasperation. "Fine," He says, giving in, "But radio me the second something goes wrong." He fixes you with another hard gaze. "I don't care if someone else needs my help, I'll go to your section myself."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at your older brothers words. You don't have enough time to get into another argument with him about how he is just supervising. So instead, you bite your tongue and (just) nod. "Got it."

Minghao's eyes soften at your tense tone as he lets out a soft exhale. "Be safe." He says softly, his older brother persona shining through as he gives your hand a quick squeeze, before leaving the briefing room. You let out an uneasy exhale of a breath as everyone's words swarm in your mind.

You run through them for a few seconds, letting your guard down as everyone's worries highlight in your mind. You know it's risky, but you're Nova, if you didn't have that, you didn't have anything. You shake your head, slapping your cheeks a little. "Focus." You softly scold yourself. With a deep breath, you jog out of the room to meet up with Soonyoung who is already seated in shotgun. You slide into the shop, fastening your seatbelt as quickly as you can while Minghao calls for roll out, making you shift into drive.

"What did Officer Xu want?" Soonyoung ask, making you click your tongue. "Nothing that you should be concerned with." You answer briefly and curtly before casting a stern glance his way. "What you should be concerned with is whether you're ready to handle things later if shit hits the fan."

Soonyoung is silent as you fix him with a look as soon as you reach a red light. "Are you going to break down on me again?"

"No, Ma'am." He answers fast, almost a little too fast despite not sounding so sure of himself.

You nod, "Good." You focus your eyes on the road again, "Let's do this."

"Third house is clear." Mingyu says through the walkie which makes you signal to Soonyoung to cross the name off of the list. "Neighbours said that the family went on vacation to the Maldives on Monday and they'll be back next week."

"Must be nice having government pension money to bring your family to Maldives." You say into the radio earning a laugh from Seokmin and a scoff from Mingyu.

"Well, after doing around four tours for them, I bet you he got a raise in between." Mingyu states, making you smirk and shake your head at the small skit you guys are doing, looking over at Soonyoung.

"Who's next?"

He runs his finger down the list, landing on the fourth name. "Liam James," He reads out. "Lives just two streets from here. He did two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before becoming a private contractor."

"To be honest, that just sounds like a fancy way of saying he became a hitman." Mingyu says over the radio making you snort.

"Let my rookie finish, please, Officer Kim."

"Sorry, sorry."

You gesture for Soonyoung to continue. "Some domestic priors with an ex-wife while he was still in the army but nothing since." You nod. "Kwon and I will take first point this time."

Seokmin and Mingyu chirp a 'copy' over the radio as you shift the gear into drive and head two streets down, with them keeping watch at the edge of the street. You reach the house, giving it a once over before turning to Soonyoung. "Alright, what's the game plan, Boot?"

"We knock on the door and see if he's home."

You raise an eyebrow. "And if he isn't?"

Soonyoung's eyes flit between you and the house. "Then we look for probable cause. If we find one — like a gun for example, we radio it in to Officer Lee and Officer Kim."

You nod. "Good, let's go."

The two of you hop out of the shop, walking towards the front door of the house. It looks almost like a summer home, white fresh paint on the walls, white picket fence as well as a blue roof. It looks exactly like one of the houses that a seasoned veteran would spend their money on. You gesture towards the door. "Go on." Soonyoung nods and clears his throat before giving the door three firm knocks on the door.

"Liam James?" Soonyoung shouts towards the door. "LAPD, we have a few questions to ask you." The door opens and a tall man in his 40s appears, dressed in denim jeans, a plaid shirt with a bomber jacket on. He looks shiftily between to the two of you.

"What do you want?" He asks gruffly.

"LAPD, sir," Soonyoung starts, flashing his badge. "We'd just like to ask, where you were this morning around 11am?"

The older man looks between the two of you before huffing out a chuckle, making you raise an eyebrow. "That's an ominous question." Liam says, glancing suspiciously between the two of you as a wary smile appears on his face. "Why'd you need to know?"

"There was a sniper shooting this morning." You simply say, making Liam click his tongue in recognition.

"Ah, yeah, heard that on the 1pm news just now and because of my background, you guys came to see me." You nod, noticing him shift on his feet, a nervous tick that you silently take note of as he looks directly at your rookie.

"Your question actually has some irony to it because I was at the gun club just a few blocks from there."

Soonyoungs' eyes flit to you for a second, looking back at the suspicious man as you plaster on a small smile. "Lucky us then," You reply, your tone even. "Got any proof of that, Sir?"

Liam nods. "I think I have a receipt for some ammo and a new gun that I bought. Let me go in and get it."

You nod, stepping forward slightly, "Mind if we step inside, sir?" You say, your voice feigning cheerily. "It's really hot out today and we've been looking for this guy since this morning."

He looks between the two of you, his face unreadable. "I do actually," Liam says, closing the door a few more centimeters to prevent you from peering inside. "But, I'll be out in a second." He gives you one last smile before disappearing and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door closes, Soonyoung whips around to you, his eyes wide. "I'm getting a vibe."

"Good," You curtly reply, your eyes narrowing at the door. "At least your instincts are working." His eye twitches a little, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your tone and sarcasm. "His alibi is pretty solid though." You hum out, peering into his living room through the side windows.

Soonyoung nods at your words as he follows your gaze, scanning the living room with you. "Gives him a reason to be in the vicinity but his vibe is really off." You hum at his words, the gears in your head turning as you pull out your walkie talkie. "Officer Kim? Officer Lee?" You say into the walkie.

There was some static but all you were met with was silence, making you frown, "Gyu? Seok?" Still no reply.

"Er, Ma'am?" Soonyoung calls out to you, making you look over at him, your walkie talkie still in hand. Soonyoung peers into the house through the translucent and semi-opaque windows before pulling out his gun. You watch, your eyebrows furrowing before he gestures for you to look inside. Turning to where he gestured, you see a rifle propped up against the cabinet near the front door, making your eyes widen.

"That gives us probable cause, right?" Soonyoung whispers to you, which makes you nod, stashing your walkie and pulling out your own gun. "Should we call for backup?"

"Signal isn't going through." You say, your voice hard as your heart starts to race. You take a step back, gun still in hand as you scan the house before something glints on the top of the roof, catching your eye.

"Kwon," You call, getting Soonyoung's attention as you squint. "Is that what I think it is?" Soonyoung squints the sunlight out of his eyes as his gaze flits around the rooftop, before narrowing on the object on the roof.

"Yep," He confirms, visibly grimacing. "It's a signal jammer."

"Fuck." You curse, your blood pumping faster as you run through a million scenarios in your head.

On one hand, you knew that this guy was armed and dangerous, waiting for backup is the smart thing to do. Not to mention that you had promised your fellow TOs that you would wait for them if something goes wrong. Prior to hitting the streets, the three of you came up with a plan. As house visits were meant to be wrapped up fast, it shouldn't take more than ten minutes per house unless something goes awry. If it does go awry, the other two officers would rush down with their rookies to check whether everything is alright.

You glance at your watch. Seven minutes had passed. You calculate the probabilities in your head, before making a decision that you are sure is going to come back and bite you in the ass.

"Here's the plan." You tell Soonyoung sternly. "According to the plan, Lee and Kim will come in three minutes but by how calculated this guy is, he might disappear the second they get here and we can't afford to lose him due to his backup plans upon backup plans." You point out, running through the points. "So, we take the probable cause and we start the timer for three minutes. No matter what happens, we stall." Your eyes flit between Soonyoungs'. "Understood?" He visibly swallows before nodding. You give him a curt nod as you hold up your gun higher and use your free hand to open the door.

Stepping into Liam's house, you peer at the rifle before gazing into the living room, the first room of the house. "I told you to wait outside." Liam says, his tone serious and angry as you step forward, meeting him halfway in the middle of his living room, your gun pointing straight at his chest.

"Sir." You say, your voice low as you noticed his hands wedged into his pocket. "I'm going to need you to show us your hands."

Liam lets out a chuckle in disbelief, "This is a mistake." He spits out, looking between you and Soonyoung, "I have the receipt for the stuff right here." He holds out the piece of paper towards you as you take a step back, making his arm falter.

"And we will get to that sir. But right now, my training officer has asked you to show us your hands."

Liam's eyes flit between you and Soonyoung before he lets out an exhale of disappointment, shaking his head. "You really don't want me to do that," He warns the two of you, making your eyes narrow.

"We'll be the judge of that." You narrow your gaze, aiming your gun at his shoulder. "I'm only going to say this one last time," You say, your voice even as you enunciate each word. "Show. Us. Your. Hands."

Liam chuckles lowly before his face twists into something more menacing as he shrugs. "Fine," he barks out. "But you asked for this." Everything happens in a split second.

Before you can even react, Liam pulls out a pistol from his pocket which makes your eyes widen. "GET DOWN!" You yell at Soonyoung, diving behind the coffee table as Liam pelts bullets into both your directions. Your eyes close tightly on instinct, placing your hands above your face to shield it from the concrete wall shavings and wood splinters flying your way. The clicks of the gun trigger fades down the hallway but the shots continue, making your blood rush as you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You peer above the coffee table, scanning the room till you notice Liam standing behind the connecting wall of the living room and the kitchen, making you scowl as you fire a few shots at said wall, missing him by a few millimeters. You continue to fire and duck before looking to your left to see Soonyoung on the floor, cowering behind the display cabinet near the front door.

Soonyoung whose gun is near his thighs, not a single bullet fired as he peers from behind the cabinet every few seconds while his hands shake uncontrollably as he looks as paralyzed as he was this afternoon. His chest heaves, making you curse under your breath as Mingyu and Seokmin's words flash in your mind. Their concerns had come true at this very instance.

"OFFICER KWON!" You yell out over the shots, making him look directly into your eyes as you pelt a few more bullets into the wall. "IF YOU DO NOT FUCKING GET UP AND ENGAGE THE SUSPECT—" You pelt a few more bullets up at the suspect, letting the threat fall on his ears as you duck down and meet his gaze again, hard. "GET THE FUCK UP, KWON SOONYOUNG!"

Soonyoung continues to blankly stare at you as you reload your gun with your spare clip, watching from the corner of your eye as Liam moves even further towards the backdoor. Your blood runs cold as panic ensues. If he gets to the back door, it's game over.

You faintly hear Mingyu and Seokmin's shops in the distance as they race down the road. The sirens should've placated your adrenaline rush, but all you could focus on, is the man moving closer and closer to his exit. Without a second thought, you lunge over the coffee table and run to the connecting wall that you were pelting bullets into, just a few minutes ago.

Your heart races as you duck behind any surface you can as Liam continues his assault of bullets, one of them grazing your shoulder and causing you to flinch in pain as you feel the sting and burn it leaves behind. You grit your teeth, continuing to run and duck as you reach the connecting wall, slamming your back hard against it as you try to catch your breath. The assault of bullets cease, making you peer around the wall to catch a glimpse of Liam reloading his gun as he makes a break for the kitchen counter. Your eyes narrow as you fire a few rounds at him, cursing as he manages to evade them. He ducks behind the kitchen counter, his escape route through the backdoor almost clear, making your heart pound in your ears. Liam fires a few shots back at you without looking up, making you crouch even further behind the wall to check your clip.

Two bullets left.

"Fuck my life." You mutter lowly. "Liam! It's going to be really bad for you in about thirty seconds." You shout, hearing him scuffle behind the kitchen counter.

"You're going to have more cops out there than you can handle." You shout, wincing as you feel a spike of pain from the bullet graze, your adrenaline waning as your heart rate starts to slow down. "You'll have an easier time with the DA if you surrender now because if you kill an officer, you'll never see outside of the four gray walls ever again." You reason, trying to get him to relent.

"Shut up you bitch!" Liam yells before firing a few more rounds as you making you shelter yourself behind the wall. "I rather die than go to prison."

You click your tongue, "I don't know about that, Liam!" You say calmly, trying to push him to talk more. "If you shoot me, my rookie will have to put a bullet between your eyes. I'll be pissed off and have to take a few weeks to recover but you?" You chuckle lowly. "Will never see the light of day again."

You hear him bark out a laugh, "You mean the guy who hasn't fired a single bullet at me?" You tune into the sound of his voice as you slowly round the wall and walk towards the counter as quietly as you can as he continues with a scoff. "Yeah, right, sweetheart." You grimace at the pet name, feeling your blood boil slightly at it. "I bet he's cowering behind the display shelf isn't he? What a rookie you raised." He chuckles mockingly, as you reach the counter before jumping over it and pointing your gun dead center between his brows, making his eyes light up with shock as he stares at you.

"It's his first day." You shrug,nonchalantly as you keep your hand still, never wavering, "But it'll be your last, the second you reach for the gun again." You harden your gaze on him. "Drop it." You say calmly, your tone even and hard. Liam's gaze switches between meeting yours, eyeing the gun in your hand and his that is pointing towards the floor.

There's silence for a beat before he sighs and throws the gun to the side, raising his hands in surrender as he give you a condescending smile. "Alright, sweetheart," He says,"You're smart, I'll give you that." You narrow your gaze before his eyes widen like a madman, "But not smart enough."

Before you could even think, he swipes his feet under yours, knocking you off your feet and the air in your lungs as you choke on your shock and saliva. Liam quickly jumps to his feet as he whistles lowly and steps his boot onto your wrist, crushing it as you let out a yell of pain.

He gives you a sick smile as he picks up the gun from your hand with no push back and crushes your wrist harder under his boot making you gasp from the pain. Liam cocks his head to the side, in mock sympathy. "Poor you," he coos out, his voice laced with fake honey, "This is what happens when they put women in command, sweetheart." He chuckles lowly, shaking his head. "You ladies all think that you're smarter and better than us but working in the government is a man's job, darling."

You grit your teeth at his words as he applies even more pressure on your wrist and leans in closer, leveling the gun with your face. "Such a shame that I have to kill you." He clicks his tongue, "You really do have a pretty face." His smile widens as your blood runs cold.

This is it. You had let your ego get in the way and you were never going to see your friends or Minghao again. You brace for impact, closing your eyes as you hear him cock the gun before hearing a shot.

The gunshot rings loudly in your ears as you feel the pressure on your wrist immediately fade. Muffled voices come from behind you before Minghao appears by your side, his eyes wide with concern as his mouth moves too fast for you to catch what he is saying while he sheathes his gun back into his holder.

"Pixie." He breaths out, his voice getting clearer and clearer as each second passes. "Chwe!" He yells, almost out of breath. "Request for an RA and an ambulance now!"

You hear a thousand different dialogues going on as Minghao gets you to try and focus on him. "Suspect in custody, requesting for an RA and ambulance to our location, over." You hear Vernon briskly say as Minghao accesses you for damage as he mutters on about how stupid you are. He freezes, seeing your shoulder and grimaces at the amount of blood there was, seeping through your uniform.

"Nova!" You hear Mingyu and Seokmin's footsteps before you see them, as they crouch in front of you, just behind Minghao who's still holding your face between his hands as his eyes flit around your face.

"I can't tell if she has a concussion." Minghao says, his voice cracking slightly. "Pixie, can you hear me?" You blink, feeling your body start to crash from the adrenaline as your head starts to unfog, watching Seokmin chew on his bottom lip.

"I think she's in shock, Hao." He says before Mingyu gets your attention.

"Blink twice if you can hear us, Nova." Mingyu says, concern lacing his voice as you respond by blinking twice along with a shaky exhale.

"I'm—" You manage to choke out, feeling all your senses returning as your body aches and your wrist throbs, "I'm okay." You breathe out, causing Minghao to let out a shaky exhale before he pulls you straight into his chest. Your head collides into his shoulder as he chokes back a sob, making your heart clench as he squeezes you tighter into him, not caring who is watching. "Hao…" You slowly say as you run a hand soothingly down his back as you meet Mingyu and Seokmin's eyes which are swirling with relief.

"Fuck you, Pixie." He spits out into your shoulder, "I thought you were gone." Your heart clenches a little more as you slowly push yourself out of his embrace to look him in the eyes.

"Hao," you say gently, coaxing the boy to lock eyes with you. "Look at me." He looks at you and your chest drops at how broken and empty his eyes look. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that." You whisper out as you try for a small smile. "But I'm okay, you saved me." You let out a shaky breath, teething on the edge of sobbing as the shock hits you fully. "Thank you for saving me."

Minghao gnaws on his bottom lip as you let a few tears fall, sobbing slightly making him pull you back into his chest as he runs a hand through your hair. "I'm here." He says quietly, gently kissing your hair as you soak his uniform. "You're safe."

Minghao doesn't leave your side once, even as you're getting patched up for the bullet graze as the paramedics check you for any other injuries, clearing you from all signs of a concussion. "You're very lucky." The paramedic tells you, eyeing you as she cleans the bullet graze. "A couple more centimeters to the left and it would've hit you in the neck."

You felt lucky. You knew that if Minghao and the rest were even a second later, you would've died. Minghao's hand holds yours as they check your wrist before placing it in a small brace, ruling it as a bad sprain that would heal in a few days. You thank them, looking at your brother as he fills you in.

Seokmin and Mingyu requested backup the second they heard the gun, but due to the shots getting fired, they had no clear way to enter.

Minghao, who was in the stakeout truck, immediately rushed over without a second thought. They formed a quick plan for Seokmin, Mingyu and their respective rookies to secure the back of the house just in case the suspect ran. Minghao and Vernon took the front, waiting for the right time to enter. But the moment Minghao heard your scream, he lost all sense of the entire plan, running inside and firing into Liam's shoulder.

Minghao stays quiet for a beat after finishing his retelling, making you take a few sips of water from a plastic bottle that Minghao got from his shop. "Slowly." He chastises as you gulp down, not noticing how dehydrated you are. "You're going to choke." You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that Minghao is doting on you because you nearly died in front of him.

After you get patched up, Minghao insists on driving the shop back to the station for debrief. "Don't we need to get Kwon?" You ask, slipping into shotgun as Minghao scowls.

"I asked Mingyu and Seokmin to take him back to the station." He levels you with a gaze before starting up the car as you slump into the seat. "You're going to wash him out, right?" Minghao asks after a few beats of silence. "You kind of have to at this point."

You chew your bottom lip, "I don't know, Hao." You softly say, making Minghao let out a scoff of disbelief.

"You're kidding, Pixie." He says, his tone incredulous. "You've washed out rookies for less!" He bites out, his voice getting louder and louder with each word as they're laced with more and more venom.

"It's not that simple, Hao." You shoot back, your voice low as Minghao snorts.

"Pixie, it's as simple as riding a fucking bike." He spits back, his fingers squeezing the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles start to turn white. "He's clearly going through a midlife crisis of becoming a cop. He was a fucking idol for godsake!" He laughs, not a single trace of humour in it as he rambles on. "He may have gotten good scores, Nova, but that doesn't change the fact that he almost let you die and didn't have your back." He briefly locks eyes with you through the rear-view mirror before looking back at the road. "I have your back if you need to wash him out so please, Nova." He lets out a quiet exhale, "Don't be a hero and try to train the impossible rookie."

You let silence envelop the shop as you take in Minghao's words. He is right. You had washed out rookies for less and over smaller mistakes. This situation is different though. The consequences of you washing out this rookie are different.

Kwon Soonyoung has a tie to your career that either means you keep getting to do what you love or risk loosing it all because he was not prepared. If you'd place both options on a scale, you honestly wouldn't know where it titled to more. Lady luck is not on your side either way.

"Pixie." Minghao breathes out, shaking you out of your thoughts. "What are you keeping from me?" He asks, his low voice making your heart clench slightly.

You could tell him. Keeping it from him even for just the past shift was already making his perception of you change. You don't know how to tell him that Soonyoung needs to pass by any means necessary in order for you to keep this job. You live and breathe this job and no one knows that better than him. But you also know that he would force you to take all the easy calls, or that he would fight tooth and nail to get the rookie transferred to him because there is no consequences for him, and you simply can't let that happen.

"I'm not hiding anything, Hao." You say, your voice calmer than you thought it would be as you gaze out the window, the streets of Los Angeles whizzing by as you refuse to meet his eyes. "Can we please, just get back to the station for debrief?"

Minghao lets out a sigh, sounding like he wants to argue but nothing comes as he continues driving. You spend the rest of the way back in silence as you try not to let your exhaustion get the better of you and fall asleep in the shop, opting to just crash in your bed later after getting a cup of hot chamomile tea and a shower.

You and Minghao hop out of the shop and go straight to the meeting room where you are met with Seungcheol's stern gaze as he stands at the front door of the meeting room. You feel uneasy as he accesses you from top to bottom, an unreadable expression on his face with his arms crossed.

You tiredly brace for impact as he meets your gaze. "Glad to see you're alive." Seungcheol says, his voice even, "I also see that your rookie came back earlier without you." You swallow, opening your mouth to respond when Minghao beats you to it.

"I told Kwon to ride with Kim back to the station." His tone eerily even as he takes a quick sharp glance at you. "I needed Nova to debrief me in the car so I drove the shop back and we took the scenic route to have more time."

Seungcheol looks between the two of you before sighing and shaking his head, "I expect your reports on my desk before the end of shift." He relents, walking into the briefing room as you trail in after him with Minghao behind you.

You meet Soonyoung's gaze as soon as you walk through the door and notice the way his face pales as he immediately breaks eye contact and fiddles with his fingers. His face is filled with regret that makes your blood boil at the thought of him cowering behind the desk. Clenching your fist, you take your seat between Mingyu and Seokmin who share an uneasy glance at the obvious growing tension between you and Minghao.

The debrief goes quickly. You opt to stay quiet for most of it, only filling in the parts you need to before the shift ends. You stand up and walk out of the meeting room when Seungcheol's voice stops you as he calls Soonyoung, a tense tone in his voice.

You opt to stay quiet for most of it and only filling in the parts you needed to before the shift ends. You stand up and walk out of the meeting room when Seungcheol's voice stops you as he calls Soonyoung, a tense tone in his voice. You watch from the outside as Seungcheol slowly walks over to your rookie, his gaze hard with his arms crossed.

"I hear you left your training officer to fend for herself." Seungcheol says, his voice low. If looks could kill, Soonyoung would probably be six-feet under with how intensely he looks at him.

Soonyoung swallows, "Sir, I—" Seungcheol holds up a hand, interrupting Soonyoung before he could start rambling.

"Save it," Seungcheol hisses out. "I don't need your explanations or excuses, Officer Kwon. I will know all the reasons as soon as your TO gives me the report later." He steps closer to Soonyoung. "And if she writes something just a little out of place," He quietly threatens. "You're done, Officer Kwon."

Soonyoung nods grimly before Seungcheol shoos him away, making him walk out of the room, his head hung low before he almost runs into you with your arms crossed and an unreadable look on your face.

The two of you stare at each other for a beat before Soonyoung clears his throat, "Ma'am." He starts, his voice soft as he takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that whatever you write in the report, I take full responsibility." You don't respond, opting to let him continue. "I know I let you down today. You gave me a shot and I screwed it up." Soonyoung locks eyes with you, "But if by some grace of some God out there that I make it through till tomorrow. I promise you that I'll be the best rookie that you ever have."

You let his words fall into the silence surrounding the two of you, letting it sit there as you let the guilt in his heart stew a little longer. "I'm not going to fire you, Officer Kwon."

His eyes widen at that. "What?" He sputters out, not doing anything to mask his shock.

"Don't get me wrong, Kwon." You say, your voice tense and low, "I should be firing you for the stunt that you pulled off today. Whatever you did and didn't do at the sniper's house just proves to me that you are a liability to the department and to me." You shake your head as you let out a bitter chuckle before narrowing your gaze on him. "But I want you to admit it to yourself."

Soonyoung hesitates as you take a step closer towards him. "You're going to walk in here tomorrow and quit because you won't be able to get any sleep tonight." You tell him, your voice low, "Because the events of today will haunt you and eat away at you until you have no choice but to quit."

You take a few steps backwards, almost walking off when Soonyoung stops you.

"Why don't you just fire me then?" He says, his voice slightly bitter and low making your jaw clench.

"I'm trying to save you from the shame and ridicule, Officer Kwon." You bark out a curt laugh. "There is honour in resigning and realizing that you aren't up for this job. That this is just a walking mid-life crisis moment that will either get you or me killed." You spit out, walking closer to him before jabbing a finger into his chest. "Because if you get fired from this job, what's next, Kwon Soonyoung?"

You let the words sink in before shooting back more, "Go back to being an idol? Live a quiet life?" You spit out, venom lacing every word. "You will have nothing." You say, your tone hard and tense, before dropping your hand and shaking your head. "And haven't you been through enough of that for just one lifetime?"

Soonyoung doesn't reply you, opting to just stare at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "I figured." You mutter, taking a step back. "Goodnight, Kwon Soonyoung." You curtly say, "It was nice to meet you." With those words, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Soonyoung by himself to deal with the aftermath of your words.

REPORT 2 OF 546 - THE FIREBALL OF SECOND CHANCES

You feel a migraine coming on as soon as you walk into the locker room, slightly later than you normally would. Everyone had given you funny looks on the way in and you can't blame them, you look like straight death.

You didn't get as much sleep as you thought you would last night. You had gone home and locked yourself in your room, barely saying a word to Minghao who didn't say anything to you either, not that you expected him to. During your arguments or disagreements, there are always a few days of silence and no interactions between the two of you. Having grown up in the same household for majority of your adolescent to teenage years, you both realized that the best way to deal with fights or disagreements was to give each other space until one was ready to talk without wanting to throw something at the other.

This decision was made because the last time you and Minghao had tried to solve a fight, only a couple of hours after you had it, a few cups had broke from the pillows thrown across the room at each other. Minghao was always the calmer one of the two of you, keeping himself in check with his meditation and tea, which meant he would normally be the first to calm down and talk to you.

However, this time around, you are sure that Minghao is adamant on not speaking to you until you come to him first. Minghao had a couple of old rules that he used to ground himself with. One of them being that if you'd lie to him and cause a fight, he wouldn't be the one to break the silence.

You sigh, opening your locker before a frown makes it way onto your lips as an old picture of you and Minghao taken during your rookie days blatantly stares back at you, making you nearly slam your head into the locker door. You hold off on that sentiment though, opting to freshen yourself up before putting on your uniform and walking out the door. You walk to your desk to gather some paper work when you hear someone clearing their throat beside you. You look to your right to see Seungcheol standing there with his arms crossed in-front of his chest.

"Got a second, Nova?" He asks making you nod as he gestures you to follow him into his office, closing the door behind him after you enter. You stand with your hands behind your back as he stands in-front of you and accesses you for a beat, his eyes flitting around your face. "Rough night?" He asks making your eyes widen slightly before you mask it almost immediately by shaking your head.

"No, sir." You state, making Seungcheol's eyebrow raise before he goes to sit at his desk.

"Take a seat Nova, I have a few questions about the report that you submitted last night." A small 'Oh' escapes your mouth before you can stop it, making Seungcheol look at you, his gaze hard. "Would that be an issue?"

You awkwardly clear your throat. "No sir." You say, trying to make your tone as even as possible as you take a seat. "By all means, please ask away."

Seungcheol stares at you for a few seconds before placing two reports in-front of you, one being yours and the other being Minghao's. "When I was reading yours and Officer Xu's report last night, I couldn't help but notice a couple of discrepancies between the two of you." He raises a hand slightly, "Now, don't get me wrong, officers do have different ways of doing the incident report but the main incidents are normally the same, the only discrepancies being just the way they write it. Overall, the gist of the report doesn't change." He uses both hands to point at the report summary that you and Minghao had written. "The two of you however," He starts, his tone serious. "Seem to have different opinions on what actually happened in the house."

You feel your mouth dry up as you stare at the two different report summaries, running through a million thoughts in your head. When you were writing your summary last night, you had opted to not mention anything about Soonyoung's second panic attack or him leaving you to fight for yourself and just wrote that you had tried a different approach to put yourself in harms way instead of him.

Minghao, on the other-hand, had written the truth and nothing but the truth. He had written about how Soonyoung didn't fire a single shot at the suspect and did nothing to stop the misogynistic words coming out of the suspects mouth and had opted to do nothing while you were getting hurt. You continue to stare at the reports, not knowing what to say. Seungcheol sighs in frustration, "Nova." He starts, his serious tone making you peer up at him sheepishly, meeting his unamused face. "Did you or did you not intentionally lie on your report?"

You chew your bottom lip, "I may have exaggerated the truth slightly?" Is all your brain can come up with, making Seungcheol sigh as he presses two fingers at the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

"And why would you do that?" You keep quiet at that, making Seungcheol lock eyes with you as his jaw clenches slightly, "Well?" He asks, getting impatient which makes you sigh.

"Because if I had written that in the report, I would've been forced to wash him out." You mumble out, making Seungcheol's frown deepen even more.

"Instead you told him off last night outside the briefing room to try and get him to quit this morning." Seungcheol pieces together, making you nod. He stares at you in disbelief, leaving you to sputter out reassurances.

"On the bright side, I think he's coming to quit today and I need you to not stop him."

Seungcheol stares at you for a second longer before leaning back in his chair slightly. "Nova," He starts, a slight edge to his tone, stopping you in the middle of your ramble. "Did you purposely put yourself in danger so that you could get him to quit?"

Your eyes widen at Seungcheol's accusations. "What the hell?" You sputter out, unsure if you heard him right. "Are you seriously asking me if I risked my life to give Kwon Soonyoung a heart attack and get him to quit?" You ask, your tone strained as you give Seungcheol a once over in disbelief. "Do you really think I would do something like that?"

Seungcheol clicks his tongue as he eyes you carefully, as if he's calculating his words. "Given your explanation and how you risked everything yesterday after you promised both Officer Kim and Lee that you would call for backup, with you lying on your report, putting yourself in a situation when there were a hundred other ways to solve it given your training and adaptability…" Seungcheol trails off, shaking his head, "I don't know what to think, Nova. I've never seen you like this."

You feel your heart sink lower and lower into your stomach at every word that comes out of Seungcheol's mouth. He is right. You've never lied on a report, there were a hundred different ways you could have handled yesterday and you know because you ran through all the scenarios in your head. However, only one of them gave you the highest percentage of Kwon Soonyoung walking out and realizing that he wasn't cut out for this job.

You could've gone with Nova or yourself and you went with Nova. "Sarge." You say after finding your voice and resolve, "My job is on the line." You say, your voice strained, bitterness lacing every word. "I've had to work twice as hard as any other officer here, Seungcheol." Your eyes locking with the older man, "I have to make sure that every report is written to expectation, that every case I take is flawless because that was just the hand that was handed to be because of my gender, Sarge."

You let out a bitter laugh. "But because I am ruthless when I have to be, that I take no bullshit and train the rookies after me to be the best of the best especially if they're girls, I get handed a shitty hand because my wash out rate is too high." You take a shaky inhale of a breath, feeling your chest tighten. "So, if Kwon Soonyoung walks in here with the intention to quit today, I beg of you to please let him." You say, your voice softer than it has been since you had entered the office. "I need this, Seungcheol, more than anything."

Seungcheol stares at you, his expression softening from what it was a few moments ago. His heart aches for you. Of course he knows that you had worked harder for than anyone else for this opportunity. It was evident when he had met you on that first day of the academy. You, bright-eyed, nudging Minghao at every single relic or clipping that was on the wall, ecstatic and not believing that you were finally here.

He remembers all the boys mocking you behind your back as they watched you that first day, how you were the only girl in the class which automatically put you at the bottom of the food chain without even giving you a chance. However, his favourite moment from that was how you proved all those boys wrong that very day in combat class. You had gone against every single one of those assholes and flipped them over as if they weighed nothing, effectively knocking out more than just the wind in their lungs and the smug smiles on their faces.

You had also effectively knocked out everyone's perspective of you, replacing it with the hard determination on your face as you looked around the room, an eyebrow raised as you wondered aloud who wanted to go next. He was so glad that he decided to take the assistant teaching role for that class because he hasn't seen something as amazing as that before then. Now, as he stares at you, that memory at the back of his mind, he sees the same girl with the same quiet resolve. Except, now, it is slowly breaking before his eyes. The girl, who made everyone jump out of their skin at just the thought of her, was looking at him as if she was about to lose everything, just because of a bad dice roll that was handed to her.

There is only one right choice.

He calls out your name softly, grounding you slightly as you continue to stare at him as he studies you for a beat. "If he does step into my office to quit," Seungcheol lets out a slow exhale, "I will let him."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, your eyes widening as you open your mouth to thank him. He holds out a hand, stopping you.

"However, if he does not quit today, or any other day, I need you to promise me that you won't treat him as if he's some lost case, Nova." He says sternly, his eyes boring into yours with a fiery look in them, "Because if he's as stubborn as you, Nova, the minute you give the guy an expiration date, he will try his very best to prove to you that he's worth it which will lead to stupid and reckless decisions."

He glances down at the reports on the table before flitting his eyes back to yours. "And I think one case filled with stupid and reckless decisions during the first month of his probation is enough, don't you think?"