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new year.

new you.

and a long overdue end to your three-year-long, on-and-off relationship.

senior year you had decided she deserved better than this vicious cycle of exhilarating joy and debilitating heartbreak. she deserved a senior year that wasn’t wasted waiting around for her idiotic frat president boyfriend to treat her better than a weekend booty call. it was literally her last chance to live up the college single life she'd always thought she'd have.

but still, breakups sucked.

and as if the universe had known exactly what you were thinking, your phone vibrates with a text.

or several.

“im sry for cursing at u baby, yk i didnt mean it" "baby pls text me bak" “coming over aftr class, we need to talk"

aside from your initial irritation at the multiple spelling errors, fear grips your chest. but not because your ex-boyfriend was particularly aggressive. or had ever physically hurt you. but you just knew that one sweet smile and "baby" later, you’d be a goner. sucked back into the vicious cycle of being the on-and-off girlfriend of mark lee, president of your campus’ largest frat.

hence your current situation, standing on the stoop of the soccer boys’ house.

aka, your brother’s house.

“sorry yuu, i didn’t want to impose—“

“it’s fine,” his voice comes through the speakerphone. “it’s either you stay there, or i turn this car around and hang him by the nuts from a thorny tree.”

you sigh, used to your brother's oddly creative yet gruesome threats. koga yudai, ever the golden star of your family, had received an offer to practice with the national soccer team and was on his way to the training center in tokyo.

pfft, practice.

yeah right.

everyone knew what that meant. if kei excelled at this tryout practice, he could very well end up at the world cup in two years as a striker for japan's blue samurai.

as for you?

you were the disappointment daughter, the one who'd gotten into sunshine city university purely from legacy. who never would live up to your parents' expectations or any of your siblings' examples. who's grades could barely hold a candle to your brother's. instead you'd defied everyone and chose to pursue dance. and what you had to show for it?

nothing.

and graduation was just around the corner.

“i already told fuma and euijoo you were coming. and fuma knows i will cut off his balls if he tries to flirt with you, so don’t worry about him.”

you scoff, grabbing the spare key hidden in the door’s hinges.

"gotta go little sis, call me if you need me."

"yeah yeah i got it, thanks again-"

you're cut off by the sound of the dial tone. it wasn't like yuu had particularly terrible roommates, aside from their huge reputation around campus. byun euijoo, resident angel of the house and breakout star scouted straight out of high school. nicholas wang, star defender and worldclass flirt. and...

to no one’s surprise, you walk in to a sight straight from a porno. beer cans litter the living room, socks strewn all across the hardwood floor, two very naked girls making out on the couch, bass booming from the speakers. and at the center of it all?

murata fuma.

also known as your brother’s best friend, scu men's soccer co-captain, and resident walking std.

everyone knows that the 'f' in fuma stands for fuckboy.

"well, baby kei, wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon," fuma drawls from the couch, not the slightest bit fazed that you're standing in the foyer.

thankfully, by some miracle, he's still clothed in gray sweatpants.

having had enough of boy drama, you throw your backpack on the floor by the door, settling into the recliner to rewatch off-campus for the third time—entirely indifferent to the scene in front of you. but your teeth clench anyway at the stupid nickname.

you hated being known as kei's little sister. as if you had no identity save for being the sibling completely stuck in his shadow.

"sorry darlings, you're gonna need to go."

fuma sighs, incredulous at the fact that you've just ruined what could have been a beautiful threesome. the two girls—he'd already forgotten their names—looked about as annoyed as he feels, their eyes wide and accusing.

"what?!" the blonde one blurts out.

"my best friend's little sister is here," he sighs, shrugging on a form-fitting black t-shirt. "therefore, this house has just became a pg-zone."

he doesn't know why he cares so much. it's not like you were unaware of his debauchery. and it wasn't like he got shy if someone were watching. actually, he enjoyed it. but still, the thought of corrupting the mind of his best friend's little sister?

yikes.

"did you enjoy that?"

fuma flops down onto the couch across from you, the mess somewhat cleared to the side, the girls dressed and out the door.

"enjoy what?" you scoff, folding your arms across your chest.

"cockblocking me."

"you could've gone upstairs and finished your little party, you know. no need to stop on my account."

"you really think i could have a threesome and enjoy it knowing my best friend's little sister is down here?" he asks lazily, as if you already should've known the answer.

you roll your eyes, already engrossed in the wonder that was dean dilaurentis.

"fine. guess you'll just have to watch with me then."

"are you serious? first you cockblock me, and now i have to babysit you?"

"first of all, im an adult. and second of all, im having a crisis and you'll just have to do until juju and nico get home. otherwise, i will do something incredibly stupid and ruin my life forever."

fuma says nothing, just solemnly stands up to go to the kitchen. you watch him go, silently admiring the way the shirt hangs on his body, the glimpse of his v-line from his low-hanging sweats. you can't even lie—fuma was hot.

"if we're doing this, i need fucking tequila. get over here, sweetheart."

"it's literally four pm on a friday! i'm not drinking tequila—"

fuma chortles, pouring you a shot anyway.

"please, everyone knows you outdrink kei anyday. plus, you look like you need it."

you watch him pour.

well, your senior year had to start somewhere. and no better way to start it than mother tequila herself.

"fine. but you have to take my phone or else i'll drunk text or call him. and then that would defeat the entire purpose of me breaking up with him."

fuma grins, tipping back the shot as if it were water. he watches you, your body screaming with the obvious tension of holding everything in.

"fine, i'll bite," he leans forward, already pouring another a shot at the ripe hour of four in the afternoon. "how did you guys break up this time?"

"he was being fucking annoying," you groan, already refilling your glass. "i'm 21, of course i don't have any idea what i'm doing or how to be an adult. i want to dance, and he wants to be a finance bro. we are not the same!"

you don't even know why you were spilling your guts to fuma. and yet the two of you down more tequila anyway, your lips loosening with each sip.

"he wanted me to give up on everything and be a stay-at-home mom."

"bullshit," fuma gasps, his eyes comically wide. "there's just no way in the big 2026 he wants you to stay at home."

"EXACTLY! my biggest dream is to dance and you want me to give it up all up to be trapped in a little house behind a white picket fence?!! hell no sister."

"you know y/n," fuma tips another one back. "you're doing this whole post-breakup thing completely wrong."

"how so?" you sniff. "i happen to like spilling my feelings and watching cheesy romcoms."

"well," he watches you out of the corner of his eye, expression guarded. "everyone knows the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

"i'm not ready for that," you huff, your words starting to slur together.

"of course you are, you just need a rebound," fuma leans back against the counter, as if he were talking about something as mundane as the weather. "i can help you."

you nearly choke, the lime you were chewing on flying halfway across the kitchen.

"excuse me?!!"

but the longer you stare at him, it's actually not the worst idea. a rebound might be exactly what you need to get your mind off of mark—not with him though.

"i'm just saying, i'm the go-to no-strings-attached guy," he leans back against the kitchen counter.

"i thought kei said he would kill you if you hit on me."

"i'm simply offering to help a friend out."

but you don't miss the way his eyes linger for half a second too long on your thighs.

"in your dreams, fuma. and hush, you are distracting me from the wonder that is john logan," you scoot away, tucking yourself into the corner of the couch.

fuma follows you, but to your chagrin, flops down right beside you. and throws his arm around your shoulder as if it were the normal thing to do.

"you normally put your arms around your friends when you watch movies, fuma?"

"sure sweetheart, i even slide my hand down their pants if they ask nicely."

he grins at you, laughing as you slap away his other hand that had skimmed the top of your waistband. your shirt had ridden up a bit, his fingers like flames on the bare skin of your stomach.

you make no move to pull it back down.

"watch the movie, freak," you whisper instead.

—

"oh my god," you roll over with a groan, holding your head.

you officially have the worst hangover of your life. and yuu is going to kill you if you throw up on his clean sheets—wait.

you're not in kei's bed.

the realization hits you at the same time as a muscular arm wraps around your waist, dragging you back down onto a very naked, very muscular chest.

"morning, baby doll."

the memories of your rather eventful friday night come crashing back down in hd 4k.

you'd slept with fuma last night.

not once.

not twice.

thrice.

shit.

“mom is so going to beat your ass when she gets back from her business trip tomorrow.”

“gee ru, THANKS!” 

you hiss, elbowing your idiotic little brother in the shoulder. harua just laughs at you, tongue stuck out, looking all too proud in the driver seat for someone who’s only had their license for three days. and you can’t even blame him because somehow, you, the princess of sunshine city high school, are the one who’s stuck going to saturday detention. 

“i can’t believe dad couldn’t get me out of this,” you groan, slowly dragging yourself out of the passenger seat. “and on saturday! i was supposed to be at the mall—”

“no offense sis, but skipping class to go shopping is the whole reason you’re in detention anyway.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, slamming the car door shut. “be a good little minion and get me a milk tea when you pick me up later.”

“um, no? why would i spend a penny on you when—"

“i’ll get you a pack of whichever blind box set—“

“deal.”

with a satisfied smirk, you strut towards the distasteful library, and take a seat in the chair closest to the door while the others slowly file in.

the brain,

the athlete,

the theater geek,

and him.

“well, well, well.”

principal genda strides in through the library doors, hands deep in his pockets.

“i want to congratulate you all for being on time. that's a first! for the next seven hours and fifty-four minutes, you will not talk. you will not sleep. you will not leave this room.”

he sets a piece of paper down in front of each of you, along with a pencil that looks like it’s been kicked around the floor of the library for the last fifty years.

“you will write an essay of no less than one thousand words, describing to me who you think you are.”

“excuse me, mr. genda,” euijoo’s hand goes up in the air. “with all due respect, i have my sat scheduled next week and—“

“should’ve thought about that before you and your buddy over there decided to get into fight.”

you cough, trying to smother back your laughter. you'd rather kill yourself than parade around like an arrogant cockatoo in front of a group of misbehaving teenagers for a living. like seriously, how does one become a high school principal and continue to live life happily? 

“my office is right down the hall. any misconduct from you little brats is extremely ill-advised. i'll be watching.”

as soon as the library doors slam shut in a cloud of decades-old-book-dust, you whip around in your seat.

“do you mind?” you hiss, eyes narrowed on the one and only nicholas wang, who has yet to stop kicking your chair since mr. genda first walked in the room. 

“sorry princess,” he leans forward, that stupid holier-than-thou smirk across his face. “didn’t think i’d ever see you here. you know, with all of us, riff raff.”

you sniff, having enough sense to stay silent and feel a bit of shame at your own words being thrown back in your face. you’d been complaining to your best friend, yunjin, yesterday about the impending doom of saturday detention. unsurprisingly, kei and taki were kicked back in their own chairs, not a scribble to be found on the sheets of paper in front of them. 

“c’mon nichol,” taki groans from his corner of the room. “just shut up so i can sleep, please?”

nicholas says nothing, and the room falls into silence, save for the book thrown straight at taki's head. you sigh immediately, pretending to write on your paper as the book lands with an echoing thud. as if on cue, mr. genda's head peeps in.

“hey shitbags. QUIT IT!”

“sorry mr. genda!” nicholas calls cheekily, though his eyes don’t move from your rigid posture. the way your hair falls down your back. the curve of your neck. the hint of a tattoo poking out from under your collar. “juju is just such a klutz!”

from beside you, euijoo huffs in annoyance, already having scribbled enough word vomit to look like a decent essay. oh, how you'd kill to have his brain. and then you take a peek at his paper.

scoff.

call it a hot take or whatever, but byun euijoo, with his round eyes and soft smile, wasn't really all that smart. the guy could simply bullshit his way through everything terrifyingly well. and for as long as you'd been alive, he'd been the boy next door—your first crush actually. in a different world, maybe he'd have been the man you married, with two kids, a minivan, and a white picket fence. exactly the kind of man your parents wanted you to marry. but no, he was too vanilla for your taste, too soft to withstand your sharp tongue and nasty temper. yet someway, somehow, he was best friends with nicholas, the boy who had no problem lighting a fire under your ass and seeing how far you’d fly.

"hey princess," nicholas whispers. “now’s your chance to be a bad girl, want a puff?”

you roll your eyes, covering your nose with your sleeve as the smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the stacks. you were beyond bored out of your mind, but you’d take detention over suspension any day, so here you were, a pencil holding up your hair, walking between the stacks to find anything that could possibly entertain you for the next few hours.

nicholas leans on a shelf, watching you, that damned nicotine stick between his lips. you look between his eyes and the cig, whipping around when you realize you’ve been staring for too long. you weren’t blind; he wasn’t half-bad to look at, all angry eyes and downturned lips. his blouse is rumpled, tie loosened, a track jacket half-zipped around his shoulders, a silver ball in his eyebrow. his sleeves are rolled up, leaving the scar on his arm on total display. the gossip mill went wild about that one—a shootout with the cops, gang initiation, murder, bank robbery gone wrong, etc. the average high school mind truly had no limits. but you knew the real story—well actually, it’d kinda been your fault. just a bunch of kindergarteners playing king of the hill on the playground when you had sent nicholas toppling into the chain link fence, claiming victory.

“i don’t want lung cancer, idiot,” you reply matter-of-factly, climbing onto the ladder. “or your saliva anywhere near me. you really should think about these things, you know. i don’t know how you—" you cut off with a small scream, the ladder wobbling beneath you. 

“nice ass, princess,” nicholas stares up at you with that stupid smile, hands planted firmly on the ladder to steady you.

“ha ha,” you cough, trying to cover up your embarrassment. “take a picture, it’ll last longer, pervert.”

“deadass?”

you glare, feeling totally self-conscious, despite the fact that you had slipped on a pair of sweatpants under your skirt as soon as mr. genda had left the room.

“keep your nasty thoughts to yourself nicholas, before i throw this entire shelf of books down on your head.”

“ouch, so much violence in such a tiny person! how about you come down and stop pretending you’re actually going to read, before you send the entire library crashing down on us?”

you snort. of course he thought that: looks or academics, a girl could only be good at one. not to mention, you weren't even short.

“oh sorry, i forgot some of us actually enjoy being educated.”

then your eyes land on a familiar book spine, the breakfast club. oh how ironic. 

“catch.”

nicholas barely has time to register the hardcover book barreling towards his skull before you jump down from the ladder, dusting yourself off as he barely saves himself from getting nicked in the eyebrow.

“trying to kill me?”

“shame i failed.”

you shrug, strutting back to your seat with your hands clasped behind your back. nicholas watches you go, trying to ignore the tent now pitched in his pants, your stupid book still in hand. god, he wanted to strangle you.

—

“have you ever had sex?”

you roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling. trying to read had been an absolute fail, especially with nicholas constantly finding new shapes to make with paper to throw at your head and the intoxicating cloud of cologne and smoke that seemed to follow you no matter where you tried to sit. ever the wonderful influence, nicholas had convinced taki to smoke a blunt with him, the singular open window doing nothing to ventilate the smell. you were shocked mr. genda hadn’t come storming in yet; with any luck, he’d given up on you lot and gone home. and maybe you were getting high off of the secondhand smoke, because in what other world would you be stretched out on the floor with the rest of them under the giant skylight in the center of the library, having this sham of a heart-to-heart?

three more hours, you sigh.

“i’m not going to discuss my personal life matters with complete strangers.”

“if you say you haven’t, you’re a prude. if you say you have, you’re a slut. it’s a double-edged sword,” taki offers off-handedly, higher than a kite. “or you’re a tease.”

“i’m not a tease!” you retort.

“you’d only be a tease if whatever you did gets a guy hot.” nicholas cuts you off flatly. 

“i have no reason to get you hot,” you bite back sharply.

“who said anything about me?”

your jaw drops, then closes. for once, you’re left floundering like a fish, at a complete and total loss for words. taki giggles into his hoodie, though you can't tell if it's because of the piece of dust floating in front of him or not. euijoo, to his credit, looks straight down at his feet to avoid laughing out loud.

“god, can you guys just fuck already and save everyone the trouble of bearing witness to your romantic sparring?” kei groans, laying back flat onto the floor. “it’s so tiring listening to you guys, seriously!”

you glare back at nicholas, just now noticing that at some point during your verbal spar, you’d gotten so close that your knees were touching. but you? curse you, you didn’t move, refusing to give even an inch.

“as if i’d fuck you,” you hiss with as much disgust as you can muster.

nicholas meets your gaze, leaning forward with that stupid smirk of his.

“of course not! little miss rapunzel wouldn’t want to dirty her pretty hands with a poor gutter rat like me, right?”

you shove him away, offended.

“i’ve literally never said you were a gutter rat! and stop calling me a princess! what’s it matter to you, what i think anyway?”

really, you ought to stab your pencil straight through one of his eyeballs.

“not everything is about you! you prance around the school with your chest puffed out, treating everything and everyone like just some big fucking joke—"

“CHRIST, you piss me off! poor little y/n, god forbid the day comes when you experience the tiniest droplet of suffering. the school might just shut down without our princess here in perfect condition to govern the hallways of sunshine city.”

nicholas stands up, staring down at you.

“those earrings, they’re real diamonds, aren’t they? bet you've never worked a day in your life—"

“can you quit?!!”

“i bet my entire stash that mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for those. gee, i bet they’d—”

“SHUT UP!”

“that’s right, get angry princess. throw a little tantrum, see who comes to rescue you then! because poor, poor y/n—”

SLAP!

your chest heaves with anger, your vision going black the longer you stare at nicholas. you could never understand him—why he acted so mean and hateful towards you, yet you always caught him staring at you from around the corner, or when he thought you weren’t looking. why he teased you relentlessly with that stupid nickname, yet had shoved an umbrella into your hands the day you'd forgotten one. why he verbally flayed you to insanity almost daily, yet had landed himself and euijoo in detention after beating someone to a pulp for calling you a ‘prissy bitch.’

he stares back at you, jaw clenched, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“you don’t know a fucking thing about me nicholas,” you seethe, resisting the urge to slap the other cheek while you were at it. “go fuck yourself.”

kei whistles lowly, watching you disappear between the shelves. taki watches with wide eyes, mercifully silent. euijoo shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“damn, man. you fucked up.”

“shut up juju, i don’t have time for your shit too.”

“god, you are so emotionally constipated nicholas!” kei wheezes with all the exasperation of an auntie watching the climax of her favorite soap opera. “everyone in the whole school knows that you like each other! sure, she’s a diva. but everybody knows that, she’s never denied it. remember when she flipped her shit on yuma during p.e for breaking her nail?”

“and you know damn well that she’s never treated you as less than her,” euijoo chimes in, piling on insult to injury. “you know i have your back but to be fair, you started acting like an asshole first. you just gotta get over that shit complex of yours, man, and stop being the insufferable prick everyone thinks you are."

"besides, what her family did has nothing to do with her," taki adds, suddenly all-too-aware for nicholas' liking.

nicholas exhales, letting the cloud of cancerous smoke fill his lungs. he knew you had no idea. no idea that your family had ruined his on the very first day of freshman year when your father became mayor and bulldozed the trailer park in favor of a parking lot. actually, you’d been nice that day, all cute smiles and pink bows in your hair, holding your hand out to him to introduce yourself as the new kid around the block. oh, but he remembered you. the girl who'd given him the scar on his arm before daddy went and got rich and moved you all to the other side of town. and with only one high school in grey city, everyone from both sides of the tracks came together.

in anger, he’d slapped your hand away, had spit at the ground by your feet for good measure. then shouldered past you, and spent the last three years of high school taunting you, his insults all bark with no real bite. fast forward to now, october of senior year. he looks towards the stacks where you’d disappeared.

who cares if they had a point.

“what the fuck do you want, nicholas?”

and suddenly, looking at your form huddled up in a ball in that dusty corner of the library, nicholas feels incredibly guilty. suddenly, he’s acutely aware that this time, maybe he’s gone too far and crossed that invisible line in the ground.

“i genuinely don’t understand how you can be best friends with euijoo, of all people, and still be such a douche.” you laugh bitterly, keeping your face turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears running down your cheeks. “you guys have been friends for years and yet, you’re still as much of a dickhead as when i first met you. don’t you care what people say about you?”

“not really, no,” nicholas answers. “the people who really matter know who i am, so who cares what everyone else thinks?”

you can’t answer. not without sounding like a complete hypocrite anyway—your appearance and personality perfectly tailored to survive the shark-infested waters of high school. nowadays you had no idea who you were anymore, beneath the fake smiles and magazine-worthy outfits. you’d always envied nicholas, even if you would rather die than admit it aloud. he was a prick no matter how you looked at him, yet was so confident in his own skin. in the clothes he wore. in the way he carried himself. whereas you doubted yourself every single step of the way, feeling like the world's biggest imposter. 

“that sounds really nice actually,” you say, almost as if you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “not giving a fuck about meeting expectations.”

“y/n—"

“i’m not lying,” you laugh. “i can see that you're not inherently the spawn of satan, contrary to this evil she-demon idea of me you have cooked up in that brain of yours. and i know, you know.”

“i—“

“and it’s so fucked up, kicking hundreds of people from their homes for a piece of depressing asphalt.” you stare out the window, and his mouth parts. 

beautiful, he thinks.

“i know you think i’m some spoiled, rich bitch. and you’re right, i am spoiled. my family is rich. and i am a bitch. but i do care about people, regardless of what you think. i do have moral standards and i hate what my family’s done. i hate what we stand for. i didn’t ask to be their daughter anymore than you asked for your home to get torn down.”

you pause, looking back at him properly.

"you don't have to believe me, but, i really am sorry. about everything."

nicholas’ eyes widen at your words. who would’ve thunk it?

you look down at your hands, not surprised at all that nicholas has nothing to say. it was true, that your family had destroyed the lives of so many. you remember the first time you'd met nicholas, not knowing a thing about what had happened. as soon as he'd spit at you, you'd kicked him in the nuts, writing him off immediately as someone you could never befriend. but then you'd recognized that scar, the one you'd given to your old neighbor. even then, you refused to back down, rising to meet nicholas at every challenge. too bad it'd only taken over three years for you to suck up your pride and apologize. maybe you would've had a more peaceful high school career.

“look, y/n. i’m sorry.”

“for what, nicholas?” you scoff, suddenly exhausted. “you’ve had no problem being a dick to me for the past three years, what’s changed?” 

nicholas stays silent, unable to answer you. instead he sits down in front of you, the tips of his shoes kissing yours. you don’t move away, still refusing to back down, eyes locked on his.

“you.”

your heart hammers against your chest with every second that nicholas stares at you, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he says nothing, but his eyes follow your action anyway.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you drive me crazy, y/n. you've driven me absolutely insane since the day we first met and you smiled at me with your uniform all perfectly pressed and those stupid ribbons in your hair."

he cuts off, brushing a hand through his already-tousled hair.

"you think i don’t know the real reason you ended up here? we both know little miss honor roll didn’t skip class to go shopping.”

you stiffen, eyes wider than a deer caught in headlights. tentatively, nicholas reaches out, rolling up the sleeve of your hoodie to reveal bruised knuckles. his thumb brushes against them, and you wince, unable to stop yourself. but to your surprise, he bends his head and you watch him kiss each one, slowly, as if each kiss were its own apology. 

“people can say whatever they want about me, but don’t you dare ever get hurt because of me again, got it?”

you huff, looking away, embarrassed to have been caught. your hand tingles in your lap, nicholas' hand still holding yours. you didn’t know he knew, didn’t know that anyone had known. but to be fair, jennie had had it coming, ranting about trailer park trash and how they didn’t belong at your school. last thing you remembered was her saying something about people like nicholas dirtying the school—now here you were, saturday detention.

“you, y/n, are so much more than the stuck-up sunshine city princess you pretend to be. you think no one notices that you float around in the top scorers, just low enough so that people don’t notice? or that you deliberately slow down next to old people in the crosswalk to make sure they don’t get hurt? or that you can throw a wicked left hook? well, i do.”

nicholas holds both your hands now, a disbelieving laugh on his lips.

“you want to get back at your family princess? give everyone the biggest middle finger?” his voice softens to a whisper, his breath ghosting the wisps of hairs against your forehead. “it would be a disservice if i didn't offer myself as an accessory, don't you think?”

“i could be convinced,” you offer, mentally cursing at your heart to slow down as nicholas leans closer.

“the deadbeat criminal and the perfect queen bee, what a disaster.”

“a train wreck,” you whisper, lips slightly parted.

“a catastrophe,” nicholas closes the distance, his lips pressed to yours. "use me princess, any way you like."

years of mutual dislike and pining all collide into one singular point of contact where your lips meet his. and if anyone had asked either of you how it started, neither of you would have a clue how to answer. your hand finds his tie, yanking him closer, the other on the hard muscle of his chest. his hands encircle your waist, as if anchoring your body against his. you pull away with a quiet gasp, breathing hard. 

“nichol—"

“ahem.”

the two of you jump apart, embarrassment tinging your ears as you come face-to-face with taki, who clearly looks grossed-out and like he just lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors. 

“mr. genda’s gone, so uhhh. yeah i’m leaving. happy first day to the horny new couple!”

nicholas hauls you to your feet, and straight into his arms to steal another kiss. giggling, you push him off, only to drag him out the library doors by his tie. you pass euijoo, who’s scribbling away on a piece of paper, a crumpled one by his feet. you smile as you step outside, the warmth of sunshine and smell of fresh air seemingly enough to fix all of your problems. nicholas stops you just before the stairs, practically high on the taste of your lip gloss and the scent of your perfume. now that he'd gotten a taste, the idea of your lips not on his? criminal.

“see you monday?” you ask breathlessly, untangling your fingers from his.

“your wish is my command, princess,” nicholas smiles to himself, bending in a mock bow to kiss your hand. “better go though, before harua bounces his way out the roof of your car.”

you turn around, cheeks warming at the sight of your little brother making kissy faces at you through the window, a shit-eating grin on his face that promised a barrage of questions.

“he’ll live.” you reach up, fiddling with the back clasp of your earring.

smiling cheekily, you place the earring in his palm. diamond, just like he’d said.

“don’t you forget.”

nicholas laughs, bending to give you a peck on the cheek. his eyes catch on the sight of his necklace resting on the groove between your collarbones, and a proud smile makes its way across his features. good, it belonged there.

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

nicholas closes your door, watching you and harua drive away with a fool’s grin plastered on his features. euijoo comes out laughing, pointing out nicholas’s now-tomato-red cheeks.

“DUDE.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“didn’t you have an essay to write?”

nicholas grumbles, securing the earring. euijoo waves him off with a flick of the wrist, arm thrown carelessly across nicholas’ shoulders as they set off for home.

“dear mr. genda,

“mom is so going to beat your ass when she gets back from her business trip tomorrow.”

“gee ru, THANKS!” 

you hiss, elbowing your idiotic little brother in the shoulder. harua just laughs at you, tongue stuck out, looking all too proud in the driver seat for someone who’s only had their license for three days. and you can’t even blame him because somehow, you, the princess of sunshine city high school, are the one who’s stuck going to saturday detention. 

“i can’t believe dad couldn’t get me out of this,” you groan, slowly dragging yourself out of the passenger seat. “and on saturday! i was supposed to be at the mall—”

“no offense sis, but skipping class to go shopping is the whole reason you’re in detention anyway.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, slamming the car door shut. “be a good little minion and get me a milk tea when you pick me up later.”

“um, no? why would i spend a penny on you when—"

“i’ll get you a pack of whichever blind box set—“

“deal.”

with a satisfied smirk, you strut towards the distasteful library, and take a seat in the chair closest to the door while the others slowly file in.

the brain,

the athlete,

the theater geek,

and him.

“well, well, well.”

principal genda strides in through the library doors, hands deep in his pockets.

“i want to congratulate you all for being on time. that's a first! for the next seven hours and fifty-four minutes, you will not talk. you will not sleep. you will not leave this room.”

he sets a piece of paper down in front of each of you, along with a pencil that looks like it’s been kicked around the floor of the library for the last fifty years.

“you will write an essay of no less than one thousand words, describing to me who you think you are.”

“excuse me, mr. genda,” euijoo’s hand goes up in the air. “with all due respect, i have my sat scheduled next week and—“

“should’ve thought about that before you and your buddy over there decided to get into fight.”

you cough, trying to smother back your laughter. you'd rather kill yourself than parade around like an arrogant cockatoo in front of a group of misbehaving teenagers for a living. like seriously, how does one become a high school principal and continue to live life happily? 

“my office is right down the hall. any misconduct from you little brats is extremely ill-advised. i'll be watching.”

as soon as the library doors slam shut in a cloud of decades-old-book-dust, you whip around in your seat.

“do you mind?” you hiss, eyes narrowed on the one and only nicholas wang, who has yet to stop kicking your chair since mr. genda first walked in the room. 

“sorry princess,” he leans forward, that stupid holier-than-thou smirk across his face. “didn’t think i’d ever see you here. you know, with all of us, riff raff.”

you sniff, having enough sense to stay silent and feel a bit of shame at your own words being thrown back in your face. you’d been complaining to your best friend, yunjin, yesterday about the impending doom of saturday detention. unsurprisingly, kei and taki were kicked back in their own chairs, not a scribble to be found on the sheets of paper in front of them. 

“c’mon nichol,” taki groans from his corner of the room. “just shut up so i can sleep, please?”

nicholas says nothing, and the room falls into silence, save for the book thrown straight at taki's head. you sigh immediately, pretending to write on your paper as the book lands with an echoing thud. as if on cue, mr. genda's head peeps in.

“hey shitbags. QUIT IT!”

“sorry mr. genda!” nicholas calls cheekily, though his eyes don’t move from your rigid posture. the way your hair falls down your back. the curve of your neck. the hint of a tattoo poking out from under your collar. “juju is just such a klutz!”

from beside you, euijoo huffs in annoyance, already having scribbled enough word vomit to look like a decent essay. oh, how you'd kill to have his brain. and then you take a peek at his paper.

scoff.

call it a hot take or whatever, but byun euijoo, with his round eyes and soft smile, wasn't really all that smart. the guy could simply bullshit his way through everything terrifyingly well. and for as long as you'd been alive, he'd been the boy next door—your first crush actually. in a different world, maybe he'd have been the man you married, with two kids, a minivan, and a white picket fence. exactly the kind of man your parents wanted you to marry. but no, he was too vanilla for your taste, too soft to withstand your sharp tongue and nasty temper. yet someway, somehow, he was best friends with nicholas, the boy who had no problem lighting a fire under your ass and seeing how far you’d fly.

"hey princess," nicholas whispers. “now’s your chance to be a bad girl, want a puff?”

you roll your eyes, covering your nose with your sleeve as the smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the stacks. you were beyond bored out of your mind, but you’d take detention over suspension any day, so here you were, a pencil holding up your hair, walking between the stacks to find anything that could possibly entertain you for the next few hours.

nicholas leans on a shelf, watching you, that damned nicotine stick between his lips. you look between his eyes and the cig, whipping around when you realize you’ve been staring for too long. you weren’t blind; he wasn’t half-bad to look at, all angry eyes and downturned lips. his blouse is rumpled, tie loosened, a track jacket half-zipped around his shoulders, a silver ball in his eyebrow. his sleeves are rolled up, leaving the scar on his arm on total display. the gossip mill went wild about that one—a shootout with the cops, gang initiation, murder, bank robbery gone wrong, etc. the average high school mind truly had no limits. but you knew the real story—well actually, it’d kinda been your fault. just a bunch of kindergarteners playing king of the hill on the playground when you had sent nicholas toppling into the chain link fence, claiming victory.

“i don’t want lung cancer, idiot,” you reply matter-of-factly, climbing onto the ladder. “or your saliva anywhere near me. you really should think about these things, you know. i don’t know how you—" you cut off with a small scream, the ladder wobbling beneath you. 

“nice ass, princess,” nicholas stares up at you with that stupid smile, hands planted firmly on the ladder to steady you.

“ha ha,” you cough, trying to cover up your embarrassment. “take a picture, it’ll last longer, pervert.”

“deadass?”

you glare, feeling totally self-conscious, despite the fact that you had slipped on a pair of sweatpants under your skirt as soon as mr. genda had left the room.

“keep your nasty thoughts to yourself nicholas, before i throw this entire shelf of books down on your head.”

“ouch, so much violence in such a tiny person! how about you come down and stop pretending you’re actually going to read, before you send the entire library crashing down on us?”

you snort. of course he thought that: looks or academics, a girl could only be good at one. not to mention, you weren't even short.

“oh sorry, i forgot some of us actually enjoy being educated.”

then your eyes land on a familiar book spine, the breakfast club. oh how ironic. 

“catch.”

nicholas barely has time to register the hardcover book barreling towards his skull before you jump down from the ladder, dusting yourself off as he barely saves himself from getting nicked in the eyebrow.

“trying to kill me?”

“shame i failed.”

you shrug, strutting back to your seat with your hands clasped behind your back. nicholas watches you go, trying to ignore the tent now pitched in his pants, your stupid book still in hand. god, he wanted to strangle you.

—

“have you ever had sex?”

you roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling. trying to read had been an absolute fail, especially with nicholas constantly finding new shapes to make with paper to throw at your head and the intoxicating cloud of cologne and smoke that seemed to follow you no matter where you tried to sit. ever the wonderful influence, nicholas had convinced taki to smoke a blunt with him, the singular open window doing nothing to ventilate the smell. you were shocked mr. genda hadn’t come storming in yet; with any luck, he’d given up on you lot and gone home. and maybe you were getting high off of the secondhand smoke, because in what other world would you be stretched out on the floor with the rest of them under the giant skylight in the center of the library, having this sham of a heart-to-heart?

three more hours, you sigh.

“i’m not going to discuss my personal life matters with complete strangers.”

“if you say you haven’t, you’re a prude. if you say you have, you’re a slut. it’s a double-edged sword,” taki offers off-handedly, higher than a kite. “or you’re a tease.”

“i’m not a tease!” you retort.

“you’d only be a tease if whatever you did gets a guy hot.” nicholas cuts you off flatly. 

“i have no reason to get you hot,” you bite back sharply.

“who said anything about me?”

your jaw drops, then closes. for once, you’re left floundering like a fish, at a complete and total loss for words. taki giggles into his hoodie, though you can't tell if it's because of the piece of dust floating in front of him or not. euijoo, to his credit, looks straight down at his feet to avoid laughing out loud.

“god, can you guys just fuck already and save everyone the trouble of bearing witness to your romantic sparring?” kei groans, laying back flat onto the floor. “it’s so tiring listening to you guys, seriously!”

you glare back at nicholas, just now noticing that at some point during your verbal spar, you’d gotten so close that your knees were touching. but you? curse you, you didn’t move, refusing to give even an inch.

“as if i’d fuck you,” you hiss with as much disgust as you can muster.

nicholas meets your gaze, leaning forward with that stupid smirk of his.

“of course not! little miss rapunzel wouldn’t want to dirty her pretty hands with a poor gutter rat like me, right?”

you shove him away, offended.

“i’ve literally never said you were a gutter rat! and stop calling me a princess! what’s it matter to you, what i think anyway?”

really, you ought to stab your pencil straight through one of his eyeballs.

“not everything is about you! you prance around the school with your chest puffed out, treating everything and everyone like just some big fucking joke—"

“CHRIST, you piss me off! poor little y/n, god forbid the day comes when you experience the tiniest droplet of suffering. the school might just shut down without our princess here in perfect condition to govern the hallways of sunshine city.”

nicholas stands up, staring down at you.

“those earrings, they’re real diamonds, aren’t they? bet you've never worked a day in your life—"

“can you quit?!!”

“i bet my entire stash that mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for those. gee, i bet they’d—”

“SHUT UP!”

“that’s right, get angry princess. throw a little tantrum, see who comes to rescue you then! because poor, poor y/n—”

SLAP!

your chest heaves with anger, your vision going black the longer you stare at nicholas. you could never understand him—why he acted so mean and hateful towards you, yet you always caught him staring at you from around the corner, or when he thought you weren’t looking. why he teased you relentlessly with that stupid nickname, yet had shoved an umbrella into your hands the day you'd forgotten one. why he verbally flayed you to insanity almost daily, yet had landed himself and euijoo in detention after beating someone to a pulp for calling you a ‘prissy bitch.’

he stares back at you, jaw clenched, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“you don’t know a fucking thing about me nicholas,” you seethe, resisting the urge to slap the other cheek while you were at it. “go fuck yourself.”

kei whistles lowly, watching you disappear between the shelves. taki watches with wide eyes, mercifully silent. euijoo shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“damn, man. you fucked up.”

“shut up juju, i don’t have time for your shit too.”

“god, you are so emotionally constipated nicholas!” kei wheezes with all the exasperation of an auntie watching the climax of her favorite soap opera. “everyone in the whole school knows that you like each other! sure, she’s a diva. but everybody knows that, she’s never denied it. remember when she flipped her shit on yuma during p.e for breaking her nail?”

“and you know damn well that she’s never treated you as less than her,” euijoo chimes in, piling on insult to injury. “you know i have your back but to be fair, you started acting like an asshole first. you just gotta get over that shit complex of yours, man, and stop being the insufferable prick everyone thinks you are."

"besides, what her family did has nothing to do with her," taki adds, suddenly all-too-aware for nicholas' liking.

nicholas exhales, letting the cloud of cancerous smoke fill his lungs. he knew you had no idea. no idea that your family had ruined his on the very first day of freshman year when your father became mayor and bulldozed the trailer park in favor of a parking lot. actually, you’d been nice that day, all cute smiles and pink bows in your hair, holding your hand out to him to introduce yourself as the new kid around the block. oh, but he remembered you. the girl who'd given him the scar on his arm before daddy went and got rich and moved you all to the other side of town. and with only one high school in grey city, everyone from both sides of the tracks came together.

in anger, he’d slapped your hand away, had spit at the ground by your feet for good measure. then shouldered past you, and spent the last three years of high school taunting you, his insults all bark with no real bite. fast forward to now, october of senior year. he looks towards the stacks where you’d disappeared.

who cares if they had a point.

“what the fuck do you want, nicholas?”

and suddenly, looking at your form huddled up in a ball in that dusty corner of the library, nicholas feels incredibly guilty. suddenly, he’s acutely aware that this time, maybe he’s gone too far and crossed that invisible line in the ground.

“i genuinely don’t understand how you can be best friends with euijoo, of all people, and still be such a douche.” you laugh bitterly, keeping your face turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears running down your cheeks. “you guys have been friends for years and yet, you’re still as much of a dickhead as when i first met you. don’t you care what people say about you?”

“not really, no,” nicholas answers. “the people who really matter know who i am, so who cares what everyone else thinks?”

you can’t answer. not without sounding like a complete hypocrite anyway—your appearance and personality perfectly tailored to survive the shark-infested waters of high school. nowadays you had no idea who you were anymore, beneath the fake smiles and magazine-worthy outfits. you’d always envied nicholas, even if you would rather die than admit it aloud. he was a prick no matter how you looked at him, yet was so confident in his own skin. in the clothes he wore. in the way he carried himself. whereas you doubted yourself every single step of the way, feeling like the world's biggest imposter. 

“that sounds really nice actually,” you say, almost as if you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “not giving a fuck about meeting expectations.”

“y/n—"

“i’m not lying,” you laugh. “i can see that you're not inherently the spawn of satan, contrary to this evil she-demon idea of me you have cooked up in that brain of yours. and i know, you know.”

“i—“

“and it’s so fucked up, kicking hundreds of people from their homes for a piece of depressing asphalt.” you stare out the window, and his mouth parts. 

beautiful, he thinks.

“i know you think i’m some spoiled, rich bitch. and you’re right, i am spoiled. my family is rich. and i am a bitch. but i do care about people, regardless of what you think. i do have moral standards and i hate what my family’s done. i hate what we stand for. i didn’t ask to be their daughter anymore than you asked for your home to get torn down.”

you pause, looking back at him properly.

"you don't have to believe me, but, i really am sorry. about everything."

nicholas’ eyes widen at your words. who would’ve thunk it?

you look down at your hands, not surprised at all that nicholas has nothing to say. it was true, that your family had destroyed the lives of so many. you remember the first time you'd met nicholas, not knowing a thing about what had happened. as soon as he'd spit at you, you'd kicked him in the nuts, writing him off immediately as someone you could never befriend. but then you'd recognized that scar, the one you'd given to your old neighbor. even then, you refused to back down, rising to meet nicholas at every challenge. too bad it'd only taken over three years for you to suck up your pride and apologize. maybe you would've had a more peaceful high school career.

“look, y/n. i’m sorry.”

“for what, nicholas?” you scoff, suddenly exhausted. “you’ve had no problem being a dick to me for the past three years, what’s changed?” 

nicholas stays silent, unable to answer you. instead he sits down in front of you, the tips of his shoes kissing yours. you don’t move away, still refusing to back down, eyes locked on his.

“you.”

your heart hammers against your chest with every second that nicholas stares at you, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he says nothing, but his eyes follow your action anyway.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you drive me crazy, y/n. you've driven me absolutely insane since the day we first met and you smiled at me with your uniform all perfectly pressed and those stupid ribbons in your hair."

he cuts off, brushing a hand through his already-tousled hair.

"you think i don’t know the real reason you ended up here? we both know little miss honor roll didn’t skip class to go shopping.”

you stiffen, eyes wider than a deer caught in headlights. tentatively, nicholas reaches out, rolling up the sleeve of your hoodie to reveal bruised knuckles. his thumb brushes against them, and you wince, unable to stop yourself. but to your surprise, he bends his head and you watch him kiss each one, slowly, as if each kiss were its own apology. 

“people can say whatever they want about me, but don’t you dare ever get hurt because of me again, got it?”

you huff, looking away, embarrassed to have been caught. your hand tingles in your lap, nicholas' hand still holding yours. you didn’t know he knew, didn’t know that anyone had known. but to be fair, jennie had had it coming, ranting about trailer park trash and how they didn’t belong at your school. last thing you remembered was her saying something about people like nicholas dirtying the school—now here you were, saturday detention.

“you, y/n, are so much more than the stuck-up sunshine city princess you pretend to be. you think no one notices that you float around in the top scorers, just low enough so that people don’t notice? or that you deliberately slow down next to old people in the crosswalk to make sure they don’t get hurt? or that you can throw a wicked left hook? well, i do.”

nicholas holds both your hands now, a disbelieving laugh on his lips.

“you want to get back at your family princess? give everyone the biggest middle finger?” his voice softens to a whisper, his breath ghosting the wisps of hairs against your forehead. “it would be a disservice if i didn't offer myself as an accessory, don't you think?”

“i could be convinced,” you offer, mentally cursing at your heart to slow down as nicholas leans closer.

“the deadbeat criminal and the perfect queen bee, what a disaster.”

“a train wreck,” you whisper, lips slightly parted.

“a catastrophe,” nicholas closes the distance, his lips pressed to yours. "use me princess, any way you like."

years of mutual dislike and pining all collide into one singular point of contact where your lips meet his. and if anyone had asked either of you how it started, neither of you would have a clue how to answer. your hand finds his tie, yanking him closer, the other on the hard muscle of his chest. his hands encircle your waist, as if anchoring your body against his. you pull away with a quiet gasp, breathing hard. 

“nichol—"

“ahem.”

the two of you jump apart, embarrassment tinging your ears as you come face-to-face with taki, who clearly looks grossed-out and like he just lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors. 

“mr. genda’s gone, so uhhh. yeah i’m leaving. happy first day to the horny new couple!”

nicholas hauls you to your feet, and straight into his arms to steal another kiss. giggling, you push him off, only to drag him out the library doors by his tie. you pass euijoo, who’s scribbling away on a piece of paper, a crumpled one by his feet. you smile as you step outside, the warmth of sunshine and smell of fresh air seemingly enough to fix all of your problems. nicholas stops you just before the stairs, practically high on the taste of your lip gloss and the scent of your perfume. now that he'd gotten a taste, the idea of your lips not on his? criminal.

“see you monday?” you ask breathlessly, untangling your fingers from his.

“your wish is my command, princess,” nicholas smiles to himself, bending in a mock bow to kiss your hand. “better go though, before harua bounces his way out the roof of your car.”

you turn around, cheeks warming at the sight of your little brother making kissy faces at you through the window, a shit-eating grin on his face that promised a barrage of questions.

“he’ll live.” you reach up, fiddling with the back clasp of your earring.

smiling cheekily, you place the earring in his palm. diamond, just like he’d said.

“don’t you forget.”

nicholas laughs, bending to give you a peck on the cheek. his eyes catch on the sight of his necklace resting on the groove between your collarbones, and a proud smile makes its way across his features. good, it belonged there.

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

nicholas closes your door, watching you and harua drive away with a fool’s grin plastered on his features. euijoo comes out laughing, pointing out nicholas’s now-tomato-red cheeks.

“DUDE.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“didn’t you have an essay to write?”

nicholas grumbles, securing the earring. euijoo waves him off with a flick of the wrist, arm thrown carelessly across nicholas’ shoulders as they set off for home.

“dear mr. genda,

“mom is so going to beat your ass when she gets back from her business trip tomorrow.”

“gee ru, THANKS!” 

you hiss, elbowing your idiotic little brother in the shoulder. harua just laughs at you, tongue stuck out, looking all too proud in the driver seat for someone who’s only had their license for three days. and you can’t even blame him because somehow, you, the princess of sunshine city high school, are the one who’s stuck going to saturday detention. 

“i can’t believe dad couldn’t get me out of this,” you groan, slowly dragging yourself out of the passenger seat. “and on saturday! i was supposed to be at the mall—”

“no offense sis, but skipping class to go shopping is the whole reason you’re in detention anyway.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, slamming the car door shut. “be a good little minion and get me a milk tea when you pick me up later.”

“um, no? why would i spend a penny on you when—"

“i’ll get you a pack of whichever blind box set—“

“deal.”

with a satisfied smirk, you strut towards the distasteful library, and take a seat in the chair closest to the door while the others slowly file in.

the brain,

the athlete,

the theater geek,

and him.

“well, well, well.”

principal genda strides in through the library doors, hands deep in his pockets.

“i want to congratulate you all for being on time. that's a first! for the next seven hours and fifty-four minutes, you will not talk. you will not sleep. you will not leave this room.”

he sets a piece of paper down in front of each of you, along with a pencil that looks like it’s been kicked around the floor of the library for the last fifty years.

“you will write an essay of no less than one thousand words, describing to me who you think you are.”

“excuse me, mr. genda,” euijoo’s hand goes up in the air. “with all due respect, i have my sat scheduled next week and—“

“should’ve thought about that before you and your buddy over there decided to get into fight.”

you cough, trying to smother back your laughter. you'd rather kill yourself than parade around like an arrogant cockatoo in front of a group of misbehaving teenagers for a living. like seriously, how does one become a high school principal and continue to live life happily? 

“my office is right down the hall. any misconduct from you little brats is extremely ill-advised. i'll be watching.”

as soon as the library doors slam shut in a cloud of decades-old-book-dust, you whip around in your seat.

“do you mind?” you hiss, eyes narrowed on the one and only nicholas wang, who has yet to stop kicking your chair since mr. genda first walked in the room. 

“sorry princess,” he leans forward, that stupid holier-than-thou smirk across his face. “didn’t think i’d ever see you here. you know, with all of us, riff raff.”

you sniff, having enough sense to stay silent and feel a bit of shame at your own words being thrown back in your face. you’d been complaining to your best friend, yunjin, yesterday about the impending doom of saturday detention. unsurprisingly, kei and taki were kicked back in their own chairs, not a scribble to be found on the sheets of paper in front of them. 

“c’mon nichol,” taki groans from his corner of the room. “just shut up so i can sleep, please?”

nicholas says nothing, and the room falls into silence, save for the book thrown straight at taki's head. you sigh immediately, pretending to write on your paper as the book lands with an echoing thud. as if on cue, mr. genda's head peeps in.

“hey shitbags. QUIT IT!”

“sorry mr. genda!” nicholas calls cheekily, though his eyes don’t move from your rigid posture. the way your hair falls down your back. the curve of your neck. the hint of a tattoo poking out from under your collar. “juju is just such a klutz!”

from beside you, euijoo huffs in annoyance, already having scribbled enough word vomit to look like a decent essay. oh, how you'd kill to have his brain. and then you take a peek at his paper.

scoff.

call it a hot take or whatever, but byun euijoo, with his round eyes and soft smile, wasn't really all that smart. the guy could simply bullshit his way through everything terrifyingly well. and for as long as you'd been alive, he'd been the boy next door—your first crush actually. in a different world, maybe he'd have been the man you married, with two kids, a minivan, and a white picket fence. exactly the kind of man your parents wanted you to marry. but no, he was too vanilla for your taste, too soft to withstand your sharp tongue and nasty temper. yet someway, somehow, he was best friends with nicholas, the boy who had no problem lighting a fire under your ass and seeing how far you’d fly.

"hey princess," nicholas whispers. “now’s your chance to be a bad girl, want a puff?”

you roll your eyes, covering your nose with your sleeve as the smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the stacks. you were beyond bored out of your mind, but you’d take detention over suspension any day, so here you were, a pencil holding up your hair, walking between the stacks to find anything that could possibly entertain you for the next few hours.

nicholas leans on a shelf, watching you, that damned nicotine stick between his lips. you look between his eyes and the cig, whipping around when you realize you’ve been staring for too long. you weren’t blind; he wasn’t half-bad to look at, all angry eyes and downturned lips. his blouse is rumpled, tie loosened, a track jacket half-zipped around his shoulders, a silver ball in his eyebrow. his sleeves are rolled up, leaving the scar on his arm on total display. the gossip mill went wild about that one—a shootout with the cops, gang initiation, murder, bank robbery gone wrong, etc. the average high school mind truly had no limits. but you knew the real story—well actually, it’d kinda been your fault. just a bunch of kindergarteners playing king of the hill on the playground when you had sent nicholas toppling into the chain link fence, claiming victory.

“i don’t want lung cancer, idiot,” you reply matter-of-factly, climbing onto the ladder. “or your saliva anywhere near me. you really should think about these things, you know. i don’t know how you—" you cut off with a small scream, the ladder wobbling beneath you. 

“nice ass, princess,” nicholas stares up at you with that stupid smile, hands planted firmly on the ladder to steady you.

“ha ha,” you cough, trying to cover up your embarrassment. “take a picture, it’ll last longer, pervert.”

“deadass?”

you glare, feeling totally self-conscious, despite the fact that you had slipped on a pair of sweatpants under your skirt as soon as mr. genda had left the room.

“keep your nasty thoughts to yourself nicholas, before i throw this entire shelf of books down on your head.”

“ouch, so much violence in such a tiny person! how about you come down and stop pretending you’re actually going to read, before you send the entire library crashing down on us?”

you snort. of course he thought that: looks or academics, a girl could only be good at one. not to mention, you weren't even short.

“oh sorry, i forgot some of us actually enjoy being educated.”

then your eyes land on a familiar book spine, the breakfast club. oh how ironic. 

“catch.”

nicholas barely has time to register the hardcover book barreling towards his skull before you jump down from the ladder, dusting yourself off as he barely saves himself from getting nicked in the eyebrow.

“trying to kill me?”

“shame i failed.”

you shrug, strutting back to your seat with your hands clasped behind your back. nicholas watches you go, trying to ignore the tent now pitched in his pants, your stupid book still in hand. god, he wanted to strangle you.

—

“have you ever had sex?”

you roll your eyes, looking up at the ceiling. trying to read had been an absolute fail, especially with nicholas constantly finding new shapes to make with paper to throw at your head and the intoxicating cloud of cologne and smoke that seemed to follow you no matter where you tried to sit. ever the wonderful influence, nicholas had convinced taki to smoke a blunt with him, the singular open window doing nothing to ventilate the smell. you were shocked mr. genda hadn’t come storming in yet; with any luck, he’d given up on you lot and gone home. and maybe you were getting high off of the secondhand smoke, because in what other world would you be stretched out on the floor with the rest of them under the giant skylight in the center of the library, having this sham of a heart-to-heart?

three more hours, you sigh.

“i’m not going to discuss my personal life matters with complete strangers.”

“if you say you haven’t, you’re a prude. if you say you have, you’re a slut. it’s a double-edged sword,” taki offers off-handedly, higher than a kite. “or you’re a tease.”

“i’m not a tease!” you retort.

“you’d only be a tease if whatever you did gets a guy hot.” nicholas cuts you off flatly. 

“i have no reason to get you hot,” you bite back sharply.

“who said anything about me?”

your jaw drops, then closes. for once, you’re left floundering like a fish, at a complete and total loss for words. taki giggles into his hoodie, though you can't tell if it's because of the piece of dust floating in front of him or not. euijoo, to his credit, looks straight down at his feet to avoid laughing out loud.

“god, can you guys just fuck already and save everyone the trouble of bearing witness to your romantic sparring?” kei groans, laying back flat onto the floor. “it’s so tiring listening to you guys, seriously!”

you glare back at nicholas, just now noticing that at some point during your verbal spar, you’d gotten so close that your knees were touching. but you? curse you, you didn’t move, refusing to give even an inch.

“as if i’d fuck you,” you hiss with as much disgust as you can muster.

nicholas meets your gaze, leaning forward with that stupid smirk of his.

“of course not! little miss rapunzel wouldn’t want to dirty her pretty hands with a poor gutter rat like me, right?”

you shove him away, offended.

“i’ve literally never said you were a gutter rat! and stop calling me a princess! what’s it matter to you, what i think anyway?”

really, you ought to stab your pencil straight through one of his eyeballs.

“not everything is about you! you prance around the school with your chest puffed out, treating everything and everyone like just some big fucking joke—"

“CHRIST, you piss me off! poor little y/n, god forbid the day comes when you experience the tiniest droplet of suffering. the school might just shut down without our princess here in perfect condition to govern the hallways of sunshine city.”

nicholas stands up, staring down at you.

“those earrings, they’re real diamonds, aren’t they? bet you've never worked a day in your life—"

“can you quit?!!”

“i bet my entire stash that mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for those. gee, i bet they’d—”

“SHUT UP!”

“that’s right, get angry princess. throw a little tantrum, see who comes to rescue you then! because poor, poor y/n—”

SLAP!

your chest heaves with anger, your vision going black the longer you stare at nicholas. you could never understand him—why he acted so mean and hateful towards you, yet you always caught him staring at you from around the corner, or when he thought you weren’t looking. why he teased you relentlessly with that stupid nickname, yet had shoved an umbrella into your hands the day you'd forgotten one. why he verbally flayed you to insanity almost daily, yet had landed himself and euijoo in detention after beating someone to a pulp for calling you a ‘prissy bitch.’

he stares back at you, jaw clenched, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“you don’t know a fucking thing about me nicholas,” you seethe, resisting the urge to slap the other cheek while you were at it. “go fuck yourself.”

kei whistles lowly, watching you disappear between the shelves. taki watches with wide eyes, mercifully silent. euijoo shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“damn, man. you fucked up.”

“shut up juju, i don’t have time for your shit too.”

“god, you are so emotionally constipated nicholas!” kei wheezes with all the exasperation of an auntie watching the climax of her favorite soap opera. “everyone in the whole school knows that you like each other! sure, she’s a diva. but everybody knows that, she’s never denied it. remember when she flipped her shit on yuma during p.e for breaking her nail?”

“and you know damn well that she’s never treated you as less than her,” euijoo chimes in, piling on insult to injury. “you know i have your back but to be fair, you started acting like an asshole first. you just gotta get over that shit complex of yours, man, and stop being the insufferable prick everyone thinks you are."

"besides, what her family did has nothing to do with her," taki adds, suddenly all-too-aware for nicholas' liking.

nicholas exhales, letting the cloud of cancerous smoke fill his lungs. he knew you had no idea. no idea that your family had ruined his on the very first day of freshman year when your father became mayor and bulldozed the trailer park in favor of a parking lot. actually, you’d been nice that day, all cute smiles and pink bows in your hair, holding your hand out to him to introduce yourself as the new kid around the block. oh, but he remembered you. the girl who'd given him the scar on his arm before daddy went and got rich and moved you all to the other side of town. and with only one high school in grey city, everyone from both sides of the tracks came together.

in anger, he’d slapped your hand away, had spit at the ground by your feet for good measure. then shouldered past you, and spent the last three years of high school taunting you, his insults all bark with no real bite. fast forward to now, october of senior year. he looks towards the stacks where you’d disappeared.

who cares if they had a point.

“what the fuck do you want, nicholas?”

and suddenly, looking at your form huddled up in a ball in that dusty corner of the library, nicholas feels incredibly guilty. suddenly, he’s acutely aware that this time, maybe he’s gone too far and crossed that invisible line in the ground.

“i genuinely don’t understand how you can be best friends with euijoo, of all people, and still be such a douche.” you laugh bitterly, keeping your face turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears running down your cheeks. “you guys have been friends for years and yet, you’re still as much of a dickhead as when i first met you. don’t you care what people say about you?”

“not really, no,” nicholas answers. “the people who really matter know who i am, so who cares what everyone else thinks?”

you can’t answer. not without sounding like a complete hypocrite anyway—your appearance and personality perfectly tailored to survive the shark-infested waters of high school. nowadays you had no idea who you were anymore, beneath the fake smiles and magazine-worthy outfits. you’d always envied nicholas, even if you would rather die than admit it aloud. he was a prick no matter how you looked at him, yet was so confident in his own skin. in the clothes he wore. in the way he carried himself. whereas you doubted yourself every single step of the way, feeling like the world's biggest imposter. 

“that sounds really nice actually,” you say, almost as if you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “not giving a fuck about meeting expectations.”

“y/n—"

“i’m not lying,” you laugh. “i can see that you're not inherently the spawn of satan, contrary to this evil she-demon idea of me you have cooked up in that brain of yours. and i know, you know.”

“i—“

“and it’s so fucked up, kicking hundreds of people from their homes for a piece of depressing asphalt.” you stare out the window, and his mouth parts. 

beautiful, he thinks.

“i know you think i’m some spoiled, rich bitch. and you’re right, i am spoiled. my family is rich. and i am a bitch. but i do care about people, regardless of what you think. i do have moral standards and i hate what my family’s done. i hate what we stand for. i didn’t ask to be their daughter anymore than you asked for your home to get torn down.”

you pause, looking back at him properly.

"you don't have to believe me, but, i really am sorry. about everything."

nicholas’ eyes widen at your words. who would’ve thunk it?

you look down at your hands, not surprised at all that nicholas has nothing to say. it was true, that your family had destroyed the lives of so many. you remember the first time you'd met nicholas, not knowing a thing about what had happened. as soon as he'd spit at you, you'd kicked him in the nuts, writing him off immediately as someone you could never befriend. but then you'd recognized that scar, the one you'd given to your old neighbor. even then, you refused to back down, rising to meet nicholas at every challenge. too bad it'd only taken over three years for you to suck up your pride and apologize. maybe you would've had a more peaceful high school career.

“look, y/n. i’m sorry.”

“for what, nicholas?” you scoff, suddenly exhausted. “you’ve had no problem being a dick to me for the past three years, what’s changed?” 

nicholas stays silent, unable to answer you. instead he sits down in front of you, the tips of his shoes kissing yours. you don’t move away, still refusing to back down, eyes locked on his.

“you.”

your heart hammers against your chest with every second that nicholas stares at you, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he says nothing, but his eyes follow your action anyway.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you drive me crazy, y/n. you've driven me absolutely insane since the day we first met and you smiled at me with your uniform all perfectly pressed and those stupid ribbons in your hair."

he cuts off, brushing a hand through his already-tousled hair.

"you think i don’t know the real reason you ended up here? we both know little miss honor roll didn’t skip class to go shopping.”

you stiffen, eyes wider than a deer caught in headlights. tentatively, nicholas reaches out, rolling up the sleeve of your hoodie to reveal bruised knuckles. his thumb brushes against them, and you wince, unable to stop yourself. but to your surprise, he bends his head and you watch him kiss each one, slowly, as if each kiss were its own apology. 

“people can say whatever they want about me, but don’t you dare ever get hurt because of me again, got it?”

you huff, looking away, embarrassed to have been caught. your hand tingles in your lap, nicholas' hand still holding yours. you didn’t know he knew, didn’t know that anyone had known. but to be fair, jennie had had it coming, ranting about trailer park trash and how they didn’t belong at your school. last thing you remembered was her saying something about people like nicholas dirtying the school—now here you were, saturday detention.

“you, y/n, are so much more than the stuck-up sunshine city princess you pretend to be. you think no one notices that you float around in the top scorers, just low enough so that people don’t notice? or that you deliberately slow down next to old people in the crosswalk to make sure they don’t get hurt? or that you can throw a wicked left hook? well, i do.”

nicholas holds both your hands now, a disbelieving laugh on his lips.

“you want to get back at your family princess? give everyone the biggest middle finger?” his voice softens to a whisper, his breath ghosting the wisps of hairs against your forehead. “it would be a disservice if i didn't offer myself as an accessory, don't you think?”

“i could be convinced,” you offer, mentally cursing at your heart to slow down as nicholas leans closer.

“the deadbeat criminal and the perfect queen bee, what a disaster.”

“a train wreck,” you whisper, lips slightly parted.

“a catastrophe,” nicholas closes the distance, his lips pressed to yours. "use me princess, any way you like."

years of mutual dislike and pining all collide into one singular point of contact where your lips meet his. and if anyone had asked either of you how it started, neither of you would have a clue how to answer. your hand finds his tie, yanking him closer, the other on the hard muscle of his chest. his hands encircle your waist, as if anchoring your body against his. you pull away with a quiet gasp, breathing hard. 

“nichol—"

“ahem.”

the two of you jump apart, embarrassment tinging your ears as you come face-to-face with taki, who clearly looks grossed-out and like he just lost two rounds of rock-paper-scissors. 

“mr. genda’s gone, so uhhh. yeah i’m leaving. happy first day to the horny new couple!”

nicholas hauls you to your feet, and straight into his arms to steal another kiss. giggling, you push him off, only to drag him out the library doors by his tie. you pass euijoo, who’s scribbling away on a piece of paper, a crumpled one by his feet. you smile as you step outside, the warmth of sunshine and smell of fresh air seemingly enough to fix all of your problems. nicholas stops you just before the stairs, practically high on the taste of your lip gloss and the scent of your perfume. now that he'd gotten a taste, the idea of your lips not on his? criminal.

“see you monday?” you ask breathlessly, untangling your fingers from his.

“your wish is my command, princess,” nicholas smiles to himself, bending in a mock bow to kiss your hand. “better go though, before harua bounces his way out the roof of your car.”

you turn around, cheeks warming at the sight of your little brother making kissy faces at you through the window, a shit-eating grin on his face that promised a barrage of questions.

“he’ll live.” you reach up, fiddling with the back clasp of your earring.

smiling cheekily, you place the earring in his palm. diamond, just like he’d said.

“don’t you forget.”

nicholas laughs, bending to give you a peck on the cheek. his eyes catch on the sight of his necklace resting on the groove between your collarbones, and a proud smile makes its way across his features. good, it belonged there.

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

nicholas closes your door, watching you and harua drive away with a fool’s grin plastered on his features. euijoo comes out laughing, pointing out nicholas’s now-tomato-red cheeks.

“DUDE.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“didn’t you have an essay to write?”

nicholas grumbles, securing the earring. euijoo waves him off with a flick of the wrist, arm thrown carelessly across nicholas’ shoulders as they set off for home.

“dear mr. genda,

(Y/n) took a slow, steady breath as she smoothed the fabric of her dress over her hips, the rich wine-red catching the soft light of the room. The material felt heavier than what she was used to wearing on missions, less practical, more… exposed. On the other side of the curtain, Nicholas kept talking, his voice low but constant, like he was trying to anchor himself as much as her. “Entry is at 7,” he said, pacing by the sound of it. “We stick together and get a read on the layout. Reports say the hybrids are part of the second act. That gives us time to scope exits, security, and any holding areas backstage.” (Y/n) closed her eyes for a second, letting his words settle. “And if we confirm a sale?” she asked, pulling the curtain aside as she stepped out. Nicholas turned toward her mid-sentence, then stopped. For a moment, he just stared. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat quickly, though his ears had gone slightly pink. “If we confirm a sale, we signal it in. Code amber first, then escalate if needed. We do not engage unless we have backup.”

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You forgot the part where you tell me not to start a fight.” “You always start the fight despite my warnings not to,” he shot back, though there was no real bite to it. “Only when you’re too slow,” she said lightly, stepping closer. Now that she was in front of him, she noticed the slight crookedness of his tie. It sat just off-center, like it had been adjusted one too many times. “Nicholas,” she sighed, reaching up. “Hold still.” “I can fix it,” he muttered, though he didn’t move. “Clearly.” Her fingers worked carefully, straightening the knot, smoothing it down with a practiced ease. Up close, she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders were just a little too stiff. “You hate this,” she said quietly. “I hate pretending we belong somewhere like this,” he replied. His eyes flicked to hers. “People sipping champagne while others are being sold ten feet away.”

(Y/n) finished adjusting the tie and gave it a small, satisfied pat. “That’s why we’re here.” He exhaled, some of the tension easing out of him. “Yeah. I know.” For a brief second, neither of them moved. The noise of the city outside filtered faintly through the windows, distant and indifferent. Then she stepped back, giving him a once-over. “You clean up well,” she said. He huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t get used to it.” “No promises.” Nicholas straightened his jacket, rolling his shoulders like he was settling into a different version of himself. “You ready?” (Y/n) glanced at her reflection, at the woman in the mirror who looked like she belonged at a high-end gala instead of an undercover operation. Then she looked back at him, her expression sharpening just slightly. “Always,” she said.

The moment they stepped inside, the air changed. Warm light spilled from crystal chandeliers, catching on polished marble floors and glittering glass. The place smelled faintly of citrus and expensive perfume, layered over something harder to place, something just slightly off if you paid attention long enough. Guests moved in slow, deliberate currents, laughter soft and controlled, every gesture measured. (Y/n) slipped her arm through Nicholas’s as if it belonged there. “Remember,” she murmured under her breath, her lips barely moving, “you’re insufferable.” Nicholas gave a quiet hum of agreement. “I thought that was just my natural state.” She fought the urge to smile.

They approached the bar, where Nicholas ordered drinks without even glancing at the menu. The bartender nodded immediately, like he recognized the type. Moments later, two glasses were placed in front of them, simple soda with lime, dressed up like something far more extravagant. Nicholas took a slow sip, then made a faintly unimpressed face. “Too sweet, they never get these things right,” he said just loud enough for the couple beside them to hear. (Y/n) followed his lead, glancing around the room with thinly veiled disinterest. Anyone who passed a little too close got a fleeting look of mild annoyance, as if their presence alone was an inconvenience.

Time stretched. Conversations drifted in and out around them. Laughter, footsteps, the clink of glass. Then, finally, a shift. A man approached after observing them for a while. Middle-aged, well-dressed, the kind of person who blended in until he chose not to. His smile was polite, but his eyes were sharp, assessing. “Good evening,” he greeted smoothly. Nicholas didn’t even look at him at first. He let a beat pass, then another, before exhaling softly through his nose like the interruption itself was exhausting. Only then did he turn slightly toward (Y/n), his tone dripping with casual dismissal.

“Darling,” he said, “shouldn’t we be moving along? The performance is about to begin, and I would hate for you to miss it.” (Y/n) tilted her head just enough, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. “Oh, yes,” she replied, her voice light and airy. “I’ve been looking forward to this all evening.” They began to turn away. The man’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened. “Well,” he said, almost amused, “if the lady is so interested… perhaps we could invite you both to something a bit more… exclusive after the main performance.” That made them pause. Slowly, they turned back. “A closer look at the performers,” he added, lowering his voice just enough to suggest secrecy without losing clarity.

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Nicholas’s expression. Interest, carefully measured. He glanced at (Y/n), leaning in as if to whisper, though his voice carried just enough. “What do you say, dear?” (Y/n) let the silence linger, as if weighing something trivial rather than dangerous. Her fingers traced lightly along the rim of her glass before she finally looked at the man again, a small, pleased smile forming. “We’d love to.” The man’s grin turned unmistakably wicked, satisfaction slipping through the cracks of his polished demeanor. From inside his jacket, he produced a small, elegant flyer, darker than the others scattered around the venue, embossed with subtle gold lettering. He held it out. “Consider this your invitation,” he said.

Nicholas took it between two fingers, barely glancing at it before slipping it into his pocket like it meant nothing. “Charming,” he replied. The man gave a slight nod, then stepped back into the crowd as smoothly as he had appeared, disappearing among silk dresses and tailored suits. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, quietly, (Y/n) exhaled. “Well. That was easy.” Nicholas’s gaze tracked the direction the man had gone, his expression sharpening beneath the mask. “Too easy.” (Y/n) tilted her head, her voice dropping just enough to lose the snob’s lilt. “You think it’s a test?” “I think,” he said, adjusting his cuff as if nothing had changed, “we just got exactly what we came for.”

He glanced at her, something steadier in his eyes now. “Which usually means it’s about to get worse.” (Y/n)’s smile didn’t fade. “And to think,” she said softly. “I was starting to get bored.” They found their seats among rows of velvet and gold, the kind of arrangement meant to make every guest feel important. From here, the entire ring was visible, bathed in warm light that felt almost too bright, like it was trying to distract from something lurking just out of sight.

(Y/n) adjusted the fall of her dress as she sat, her posture effortless, composed. Beneath that calm, her fingers moved quickly over her phone, shielded by the table and her body. Got invite. Possible access after main act. Delay expected. Stay ready, await the signal. She hit send and slipped the phone away just as the lights began to dim. A hush fell over the crowd. Then a spotlight snapped on.

The man from before stood at the center of the ring, transformed. Gone was the polished guest. In his place stood a showman, dressed in deep reds and golds, his posture grand, his smile wider, theatrical. Nicholas leaned just slightly toward her. “Subtle,” he muttered. (Y/n) didn’t take her eyes off the ring. “I hate him already.” The man spread his arms, voice booming as he welcomed the audience. Applause followed, eager and polished, as if everyone already knew their role in the performance. At first, it was exactly what it claimed to be. Trapeze artists swung high above, their movements precise and effortless. A pair of clowns stumbled through exaggerated routines that earned polite laughter. A man in a tailored coat guided a group of horses through elegant patterns, the animals stepping in perfect rhythm as they leapt over low bars.

(Y/n) let her gaze drift, scanning exits, counting guards, noting the subtle ways certain staff watched the audience instead of the performers. “Too many on the east side,” she murmured. Nicholas gave a faint nod. “And the doors behind the ring are reinforced. Not for show.” Everything about it felt staged, not just the acts, but the normalcy itself. Like a mask pulled too tight. Then the shift came. The lights dimmed again, slower this time. The music changed, losing its playful tone, sinking into something heavier. The ringmaster stepped forward once more, his grin stretching wider.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, his voice rich with anticipation, “you have seen talent. You have seen beauty.” He paused, letting the silence build. “But now… you will witness something far more rare.” (Y/n)’s stomach tightened. “Monsters,” he said. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Not fear. Excitement. Cages were rolled out into the ring. Metal scraped against the floor, the sound harsh and real against the polished performance. Inside the first cage, small hands gripped the bars. (Y/n)’s breath caught.

A bunny hybrid. Small. Too small. Her ears trembled, pressed tight against her head as she shrank back into the corner. Her wide eyes darted across the crowd, searching for something, anything. “Jesus…” Nicholas whispered under his breath. (Y/n)’s fingers curled tightly against her palm, nails biting into skin. “Stay focused,” he added quietly, though his own voice had lost some of its steadiness. Another cage was dragged out. This one shook. When the door opened, the lion hybrid stumbled forward, catching himself with a low, unsteady growl. He was larger, powerful even in his weakened state, but it was impossible to miss how thin he was. His ribs showed sharply beneath his skin, his movements just slightly off, like his body was running on nothing but instinct.

(Y/n)’s throat tightened. “No…” The crowd leaned in. The ringmaster raised a hand, reveling in the moment. “Observe,” he said softly. The lion’s gaze snapped to the bunny. For a second, nothing happened. Then instinct took over. He lunged. (Y/n)’s entire body tensed, every muscle screaming to move, to stop it, to do something. The bunny let out a small, broken sound as she tried to scramble away, her movements panicked, uncoordinated. “Don’t,” Nicholas murmured, his hand closing tightly around hers. “I can’t just sit here,” she whispered, her voice shaking despite herself. “You have to,” he said, firmer now, though his grip tightened as the scene unfolded. The lion closed the distance in seconds. He pounced. The impact knocked the bunny to the ground, a sharp cry tearing from her as claws scraped across her side. The lion snapped, teeth grazing, then biting down just enough to draw blood.

The audience reacted. Some gasped, others laughed. (Y/n)’s vision blurred for a split second, rage burning hot and immediate in her chest. Her hand clenched painfully in Nicholas’s, grounding her just enough to keep her from standing. “Not yet,” he said under his breath. “If we blow this now, we lose all of them.” The words landed, heavy and awful. In the ring, handlers rushed in, pulling the lion back with practiced efficiency. He struggled weakly, snarling, still trying to reach the bunny even as they dragged him away. The bunny didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, she curled in on herself, trembling. The ringmaster stepped forward again, completely unfazed, his smile never wavering. “And that,” he said smoothly, “is only the beginning.”

(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing her expression back into something neutral, something that matched the rest of the crowd. But her grip on Nicholas’s hand didn’t loosen. “Later,” she whispered, her voice barely there. “We’re ending this later.” Nicholas didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the ring. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We are.” The applause came too quickly after the previous act, like the crowd needed to drown out what they had just seen. (Y/n) forced her hands to move, slow and measured, joining in just enough to blend in. Her palms felt cold despite the heat in the room. “Psychotic,” she muttered under her breath.

Nicholas didn’t respond right away. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed forward. “Document everything,” he said quietly. “Faces, reactions, who’s enjoying this.” The cages were cleared, the blood on the floor barely addressed before the next setup began. Poles rose. Ropes tightened. The trapeze equipment creaked as it was adjusted into place high above the ring again. Then they brought them out. Two domestic cat hybrids. Older than the bunny, but not by much. Their ears were pinned low, tails twitching with barely contained fear. One of them hesitated at the edge of the platform, looking down at the empty space beneath them. There was no net.

(Y/n)’s stomach dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” Nicholas’s voice was tight. “They removed it.” The ringmaster’s voice rang out again, cheerful, delighted. “A test of grace under pressure.” The bar was lowered. Flames caught along its length. A collective murmur passed through the audience, this time edged with excitement. (Y/n)’s fingers curled into her dress. “This isn’t a performance. It’s torture.” The cat hybrids exchanged a quick glance. Something passed between them, fear, understanding, maybe both. Then one of them stepped forward. Slowly, carefully, they reached for the bar. The moment their hands closed around it, they flinched. The reaction was immediate. Muscles tensed, shoulders jerked, a sharp inhale that never quite became a scream. But they held on. They had to.

“Don’t look,” Nicholas murmured. “I’m not looking away,” (Y/n) shot back, her voice barely above a whisper. The second hybrid followed, biting down hard enough that (Y/n) could see the strain in their jaw even from a distance. The smell of burning hit again, sharper this time. Then they moved. Swinging from one bar to the next, every motion precise despite the pain. Their hands burned with each grip, but they didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t hesitate. The crowd watched, rapt. Some even clapped along. (Y/n) felt something twist painfully in her chest. “They’re going to fall,” she said, almost to herself. “They won’t,” Nicholas replied, though it sounded more like hope than certainty. “They know what happens if they do.”

The act ended without a fall. The moment their feet hit the platform again, both hybrids staggered, hands shaking violently, but they stayed upright. Applause erupted. Louder this time. (Y/n) clapped again, slower now, her expression carefully neutral. Inside, it felt like something was splintering. “Just a little longer,” Nicholas said under his breath. She nodded once. The final act began. Three figures were led into the ring. A wolf. A fox. And a red panda. The difference was immediate. They stood straighter. Their movements were smoother, less hesitant. When the music started, they moved with it, stepping into a coordinated routine that almost looked… natural.

The red panda even smiled. (Y/n)’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you see that?” Nicholas leaned back just enough to watch more closely. “Yeah. They’re not reacting like the others.” The wolf spun, landing lightly before helping the fox into a controlled flip. The red panda followed with a series of quick, playful movements, earning a ripple of genuine laughter from the crowd. It looked polished. Rehearsed. Almost willing. “Conditioned?” (Y/n) murmured. “Or rewarded,” Nicholas said. “Better treatment for better performance.” (Y/n)’s gaze flicked across the audience. That’s when she noticed it.

Small movements. Subtle. Easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. People leaning toward each other. Hands shifting. Fingers tapping discreetly against wrists or programs. Counting. Money. Her expression didn’t change, but her voice dropped lower. “There it is.” Nicholas followed her line of sight, his eyes sharpening. “Yeah. This is the beginning of the auction.” Numbers passed in murmurs, barely audible beneath the music. A glance here, a nod there. Silent bids moving through the crowd like an invisible current. (Y/n) shifted slightly in her seat, angling herself just enough to catch more faces. “I’ve got at least six active bidders in our section alone.” “More on the left,” Nicholas added. “And the guy two rows down just doubled whatever was offered.”

The red panda spun again, landing in a bow, completely unaware or perhaps too aware. (Y/n)’s throat tightened. “Few more minutes,” Nicholas said, his voice steady now, focused. “We let this play out, confirm the exchange, then we call it in.” (Y/n) gave a small nod, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand again, not for comfort this time, but grounding. Her eyes stayed on the performers. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “And then we shut it all down.”

The final note of music lingered just a second too long before fading, the performers bowing as the audience rose into polished applause. The ringmaster stepped forward once more, basking in it, his smile sharp and satisfied. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “And for our most… distinguished guests, we do hope you’ll remain for a more personal experience. A chance to appreciate our performers up close.” A ripple of quiet excitement passed through the crowd. (Y/n) exhaled slowly through her nose, her hands coming together in a final, measured clap before she let them fall to her lap. “Of course you do,” she murmured.

Nicholas shifted slightly in his seat beside her, rolling one shoulder like he was easing tension out of it. “Showtime,” he said under his breath. They stayed seated as others began to filter out or linger uncertainly. (Y/n) slipped her phone out just enough to type a quick message, her movements shielded by the fold of her dress. Interfere in 15. She sent it, then tucked the phone away again, her expression smoothing out like nothing had happened. Leaning slightly toward Nicholas, she let her voice carry just enough to be overheard.

“Honey,” she said, her tone bright and indulgent, “do you think we’ll get to meet the hybrids? I would love a closer look at the dancers. They were just… adorable.” The word tasted bitter. Nicholas leaned back in his seat, one arm draped casually, his wrist turning just enough for the light to catch the face of his watch. “Oh, darling,” he replied, voice warm with effortless arrogance, “I’m sure we will.” Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/n) caught the reactions. A couple to their right leaned closer together, whispering behind raised hands. Someone a few rows ahead glanced back, their gaze lingering just a second longer than casual curiosity allowed. “They’re clocking us,” she muttered. “Let them,” Nicholas said. “We look like money. That’s all they care about.”

She gave the faintest nod. Five minutes passed slowly. Then the man returned. This time, he wore the same tailored elegance as before, the ringmaster gone, replaced once again by the composed host. He stepped into the ring and gestured for the remaining guests to rise. “If you would,” he said, his voice softer now, more intimate. “Right this way.” Chairs shifted. Fabric rustled. People stood, smoothing suits and dresses as they began to follow. (Y/n) and Nicholas rose with them, falling easily into the flow of bodies moving toward the back. The transition was subtle.

Bright lights gave way to dimmer ones. The polished grandeur of the main hall faded into something colder, more functional. The air changed again, heavier now, carrying a mix of metal, sweat, and something that made (Y/n)’s stomach turn. They stepped into the room. And everything stopped. Cages lined the walls. Not one or two. Dozens. Each one held at least three hybrids, some more. Too close together. Too cramped. Some sat huddled in corners, others stood rigid, eyes tracking every movement in the room. A few didn’t move at all. (Y/n) felt her breath catch, sharp and involuntary. “This is worse,” she whispered, barely audible. Nicholas’s hand brushed lightly against hers, a silent warning. “Careful.”

She forced her expression to stay neutral, though her nails dug into her palm again. The man moved to the center of the room, turning to face them all with that same practiced smile. “Welcome,” he said. “To our private collection.” A few people chuckled softly. (Y/n) felt sick. “These hybrids,” he continued, gesturing broadly to the cages, “have been carefully selected and trained. Each one offers something unique. Strength, agility, obedience…” His voice carried easily, confident, proud. “Tonight, they are available to you,” he finished. “To the highest bidder.”

A murmur swept through the room. This time, it wasn’t subtle. Hands lifted. Numbers were spoken, quiet at first, then louder as competition built. A man near the front stepped closer to one of the cages, pointing as he called out an amount. Another countered immediately. (Y/n)’s eyes moved quickly, scanning, cataloging faces, voices, positions. “I’ve got visual confirmation on at least twenty buyers,” she murmured. “More in the back.” “Same,” Nicholas replied. “And guards by both exits. Armed.” Her jaw tightened. “We need to time this perfectly.” A sharp voice cut through the room as a bid jumped higher. The hybrids reacted. Some flinched. Some shrank back. One pressed themselves against the bars like they could disappear into them.

Across the room, the red panda from earlier stood in a cage with two others, still wearing that faint, trained smile, though it didn’t quite reach their eyes anymore. (Y/n)’s gaze lingered for half a second too long. “Don’t,” Nicholas said quietly. “Not yet.” She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to focus. Her pulse thudded steadily now, each second ticking closer. “Ten minutes,” she whispered. Nicholas gave a small nod, his posture relaxed, his expression bored, like none of this mattered. “Then we burn it to the ground,” he said under his breath.

The room settled into a rhythm that made (Y/n)’s skin crawl. Numbers rose and fell, voices calm and practiced, like this was nothing more than an auction for fine art. Smaller hybrids went first. The bunny. The cats. The ones the crowd had barely reacted to before were now reduced to numbers, their worth measured in quick exchanges and dismissive nods. “Thirty thousand.” “Forty.” “Sold.” It happened too fast. (Y/n) kept her posture relaxed, her expression distant, but inside she was counting. Three minutes. Her fingers tapped once against her arm, subtle, hidden in the folds of her dress. The bidding shifted. The tone changed.

Now came the ones they cared about. Wolves. Foxes. Larger hybrids that drew more attention, more excitement. The numbers climbed faster, sharper, competition slipping into voices that had been bored just minutes ago. “Two minutes,” Nicholas murmured, barely moving his lips. (Y/n) gave the smallest nod. Then the man raised his hand again. “And now,” he said, his voice lifting just slightly, “we present something truly special.” The room quieted. Even the bidders who had been murmuring among themselves turned their attention forward. The red panda was brought forward. Up close, the difference was impossible to ignore. (Y/n)’s breath slowed, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she took him in.

Tall. Too tall for his breed’s standard. His frame was lean but strong, movements sharp and precise in a way that didn’t match anything she knew about red panda hybrids. There was an energy to him, a restless kind of awareness, like he was always on the edge of motion. Not lazy. Not soft. Not what he was supposed to be. He stood in the center, posture straight, expression bright, almost eager. If there was fear, it was buried deep, masked behind something trained, something deliberate.

The man gestured toward him with clear pride. “This is K, our beloved red panda,” he announced. “Despite their supposed laziness, K is remarkably energetic. An excellent companion for those with a more… active lifestyle.” A few people chuckled. The bidding started immediately. “Two hundred thousand.” “Two fifty.” “Three.” The numbers jumped so fast it barely felt real. (Y/n)’s focus sharpened. “He was marketed,” she said under her breath. “They knew he’d draw attention.” Nicholas’s voice stayed even. “Yeah. Which means he’s important. Which means we do not get involved.”

“Four hundred.” “Four fifty.” The crowd leaned in, voices overlapping now, the calm control slipping into something hungrier. K didn’t move much, but his eyes shifted, tracking the voices, the hands, the people who were deciding his future in seconds. Something twisted hard in (Y/n)’s chest. “Five hundred.” “Six.” The numbers barely registered anymore. And then, before she could stop herself, her hand lifted. “Six fifty.” The word left her mouth clean, confident. Nicholas went completely still beside her. For a fraction of a second, he didn’t react at all. Then, very quietly, without turning his head, he said, “What are you doing?” (Y/n) didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on K. “Seven hundred,” someone across the room countered immediately. Her hand rose again. “Seven fifty.” Nicholas’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested against his side. “(Y/n),” he said, low and controlled, “that is not the plan.” “I know,” she replied, just as quietly. “Then stop.”

“Eight hundred.” The numbers kept climbing. Her pulse matched it, steady but fast, something instinctive taking over, something she couldn’t quite shut down. She raised her hand again. “Nine.” Nicholas exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing calm. “We don’t win bids. We observe. We call it in. That’s how this works.” “I know how this works,” she said, her voice still smooth, still perfectly in character. “Then act like it.” “Nine fifty.” A brief pause. Then, from the other side, “One million.” A ripple went through the room. (Y/n)’s stomach flipped. Nicholas finally glanced at her, just for a split second, his expression tight. “That’s your out. Let it go.” She didn’t. Her hand lifted again. “One point two.”

This time, the reaction was louder. A few heads turned, more attention shifting toward them now. Nicholas forced himself not to look at her again, not to break the illusion. But his voice dropped even lower, sharper now. “You need to stop.” (Y/n) swallowed, her gaze still locked on K. K, who stood there like he was waiting. Like he knew. Her fingers curled slightly before she forced them still. Across the room, the previous bidder hesitated. Then, “One point three.” Silence stretched. Nicholas spoke again, quieter this time. “Thirty seconds.” The reminder hit. Backup. Timing. Everything they had planned.

(Y/n)’s hand hovered for just a fraction too long. The room watched. Waited. And for a moment, it wasn’t just about the bidding anymore. The tension snapped all at once. The doors burst open with a violent crack, slamming against the walls hard enough to echo through the room. “HPS is here, clear out!” For a split second, everything froze. Then the room exploded into chaos. Voices overlapped, no longer polished or controlled. People shouted, cursed, shoved past each other. Some threw wads of cash at handlers in desperate, greedy attempts to secure what they thought they could still take. Others rushed the cages, fumbling with locks, dragging hybrids out with no care for anything but escape. “Move, move!” “Take them!” “Now!” 

(Y/n) didn’t hesitate. She pulled away from Nicholas the moment the panic started, slipping through the confusion before anyone could grab or question her. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, adrenaline sharpening every movement, every sound. “HPS, on the ground!” “Hands where I can see them!” Boots thundered in from every entrance. Agents flooded the room, weapons drawn, voices cutting through the noise with trained precision. Within seconds, exits were blocked, escape routes gone. A man tried to bolt past one of the doors. He didn’t make it two steps before he was forced to the ground. (Y/n) barely registered it.

Her eyes were already searching. Finding him. K. He hadn’t run. He stood near where he’d been displayed, the chaos swirling around him, his earlier energy gone. Now there was something else in his posture. Uncertainty. Fear. The kind that came from not knowing who was worse. (Y/n) slowed as she approached, raising her hands slightly, making sure her movements were clear. “K,” she called, her voice cutting through just enough. His head snapped toward her. For a moment, he looked like he might bolt. “Hey,” she said, softer now, stepping closer. “Come with me.”

She held out her hand. He didn’t take it. Not right away. His eyes flicked around the room. Agents in tactical gear. Humans shouting. Other hybrids being pulled away, some resisting, some too exhausted to fight. His breathing quickened. He took a small step back. “I’m not going to hurt you,” (Y/n) said, her voice steady, grounded. “I’m with HPS. You’re safe with me.” The words hung there. He searched her face, like he was trying to find something real in it. Something that wasn’t part of a performance. For a second, it felt like he might refuse. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached out. His hand hovered just short of hers before finally closing the gap.

The moment their fingers touched, she tightened her grip just enough to be reassuring, not restraining. “Good,” she said quietly. “Stay with me.” She turned, guiding him through the chaos. Around them, agents were securing the room. Bidders were being restrained, forced to their knees, hands behind their backs. Handlers shouted protests that went nowhere. Cages were being opened properly now, hybrids carefully led out instead of dragged. “Clear this side!” “Get medical in here!” Nicholas stood near the center, already in conversation with one of their superiors, his posture composed despite everything happening around him.

His eyes flicked up the moment he saw her. Then to K. There was a pause. A very brief one. But she saw it. (Y/n) reached them just as the boss turned fully toward Nicholas, mid-sentence. The woman’s gaze shifted to (Y/n), sharp and assessing, then dropped to the hybrid at her side. Her expression tightened slightly. “And this is?” she asked, gesturing toward K. (Y/n) shrugged lightly, though her hand didn’t leave his. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just… he was scared.” The boss held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, like she was weighing that answer. Then she exhaled, shaking her head once. “Of course you did,” she muttered. She gestured toward the exit. “Get him to the transport trucks. We’re running full evaluations on all of them. Medical, identification, the works.”

Her eyes flicked back to (Y/n), more pointed now. “And don’t disappear. We’ll need your full report. Both of you.” Nicholas gave a short nod. “Understood.” (Y/n) nodded as well. “Got it.” The boss moved on immediately, already calling out new orders. For a second, the noise of the room pressed back in. Radios crackling. Voices coordinating. The aftermath settling into something controlled. (Y/n) glanced at K. Up close, she could see the tension still running through him, the way his shoulders hadn’t fully relaxed, his grip on her hand just a little tighter than before.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “We’re getting you out of here.” He didn’t respond, not in words. But he didn’t let go. She gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze, then started toward the exit, guiding him through the sea of uniforms and flashing lights. Behind them, the operation continued. Ahead of them, the night air waited, sharp and clean compared to everything they were leaving behind.

The night air hit different the second they stepped outside. Cool. Sharp. Clean enough to almost wash away the stench of the place behind them. Rows of transport trucks lined the street, doors open, agents moving quickly but carefully as they guided hybrids inside. Voices were calmer out here, more controlled, but the urgency still hummed beneath it all. (Y/n) slowed as they approached one of the trucks. K didn’t. Not at first. Then his grip tightened. It wasn’t sudden. Just a quiet shift. Fingers curling more firmly around hers, like he had realized something he didn’t like. She glanced at him. His gaze was fixed on the inside of the truck.

Hybrids sat along the benches, some wrapped in blankets, others staring blankly ahead. A few flinched at every movement. None of them looked at ease. K didn’t move. Instead, he took a small step closer to her. (Y/n) softened immediately, turning fully toward him. “Hey,” she said gently. He didn’t answer. His hand only tightened again. “I know,” she murmured. “It’s a lot.” His eyes flicked to hers, searching, uncertain. There was something almost fragile in the way he held himself now, so different from the confident energy he had shown earlier in the ring. “They’re going to take care of you,” she continued, keeping her voice calm and steady. “You need to go with them, okay?”

He shook his head, just slightly. It wasn’t defiance. It was fear. (Y/n)’s chest tightened. “I’m not sending you somewhere bad,” she said softly. “This is the safe part. I promise.” He still didn’t move. So she shifted closer, lowering her voice just for him. “I’ll come with you,” she said. “Not tonight, but I’ll come to the shelter. I’ll check on you. I won’t just disappear.” That made him pause. He studied her face again, like he had back inside. Like he was trying to decide if her words meant anything. Slowly, he stepped closer, closing what little space was left between them. Even in her heels, she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.

His free hand lifted, hesitant at first, then more certain as he reached toward her. His fingers brushed against her hair, gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear with a kind of careful focus that made her breath catch. “I’ll wait for you,” he said quietly. (Y/n) felt something pull tight in her chest. She nodded, not breaking eye contact. “I’ll come visit,” she repeated. “I promise.” For a second longer, he didn’t let go. Then, slowly, his grip loosened. Her hand slipped from his. He turned, climbing into the truck without another word, moving to one of the open spots along the bench. Once he sat down, he looked back at her, his expression still uncertain, but steadier now.

Waiting. (Y/n) stayed where she was for a moment, watching him. “Hey,” an agent called nearby. “We need to clear this area.” She nodded absently, her eyes still on K. Then she straightened, turning away at last as the truck doors began to close. Inside, K didn’t look away. Not until the doors shut completely, sealing him in with the others, carrying him somewhere unknown. Somewhere safe, hopefully. (Y/n) exhaled slowly, the weight of everything settling in all at once. “Hey.” Nicholas’s voice came from behind her. “You good?” She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the line of trucks, on the one that had just pulled away. “Yeah,” she said finally, though it came out quieter than she intended. Nicholas stepped up beside her, following her line of sight. “You broke protocol back there.” “I know.” A pause. Then, softer, “You’re going to visit him, aren’t you?” (Y/n) didn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah,” she said.

By the time the last of the trucks pulled away, the night had settled into something quieter. Not peaceful. Just… over. Hybrids were split between transports, sent to shelters across the city. Medical teams were already waiting, ready to assess injuries, check records, try to piece together where each of them had come from and if anyone was still looking for them. Behind them, flashing lights painted the street in red and blue as the rest of the operation wrapped up. Organizers, handlers, bidders, all of them were loaded into separate vehicles, their earlier confidence completely gone. No more polished smiles. No more quiet bids. Just cuffs, tension, and the reality of what came next. 

(Y/n) barely remembered the drive back. HPS headquarters felt colder than usual when they stepped inside, the bright overhead lights a sharp contrast to everything they had just come from. The hum of activity hadn’t slowed, reports already being filed, teams moving between rooms with purpose. They were separated briefly, then brought in one after the other. Testimonies. Every detail. The lead-up. The performance. The cages. The bidding. Nicholas spoke first, his tone steady, precise, laying everything out in a clean, structured way that made it easy to follow. (Y/n) followed. She didn’t leave anything out. Not the bunny. Not the fire. Not the look on K’s face when the bidding started. The room stayed quiet as she spoke. Too quiet. Then came the part they had been waiting for.

Her supervisor leaned back slightly, arms crossed, expression unreadable but tight around the edges. “You broke protocol.” (Y/n) didn’t argue that. “Yes.” “You engaged beyond observational limits. You entered an active bid with no clearance.” “I know.” Nicholas shifted beside her. “She was maintaining cover,” he said, stepping in before the silence stretched too long. “They were starting to pay attention to us. If she backed out too abruptly, it could have raised suspicion.” The supervisor’s gaze flicked to him. “Were you aware she intended to continue bidding?” Nicholas hesitated, just enough to be honest. “No. But I understood the risk in the moment.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, just briefly. The supervisor looked back at her. “Your reasoning.” She exhaled slowly. “I felt like I had to,” she said. The words sounded thin the second they left her mouth, but she didn’t try to dress them up. The supervisor’s expression hardened slightly. “That is not a justification.” (Y/n)’s jaw tightened. “He was being targeted. People were already jumping numbers for him. If I didn’t step in, it could have escalated faster, drawn more attention, made extraction harder.” A pause. Then, quieter, more honest, “And… I felt a connection to him.” That didn’t help.

The supervisor shook his head once, exhaling through his nose. “We don’t operate on feelings.” Nicholas spoke again, more firmly this time. “With respect, we also don’t ignore situational shifts. She didn’t compromise the mission. If anything, it kept us in position longer.” Another pause. Tension hung in the air for a few seconds. Then the supervisor straightened slightly, his tone shifting just enough. “You completed the mission,” he said. “You gathered evidence. You confirmed trafficking and secured a full intervention. That matters.” (Y/n) stayed still, waiting for the rest. “But this,” he added, his gaze locking onto hers again, “does not happen again.” She nodded. “Understood.”

Silence. Then a small shift in posture, less rigid now. “You’re both cleared,” he said. “Standard leave applies. One month.” Nicholas let out a quiet breath. “Copy that.” (Y/n) nodded again. The tension eased just enough for the room to feel breathable again. They were dismissed. Nicholas stepped out first, rolling his shoulders as they moved into the hallway. “Well,” he muttered, “that could’ve gone worse.” (Y/n) gave a faint hum, but didn’t follow him right away. “Hey,” he said, noticing. “You coming?” “In a minute.” He studied her for a second, then nodded. “Don’t do anything reckless without me.” She huffed softly. “No promises.” He smirked, then headed off down the hall. 

(Y/n) turned back, knocking lightly before stepping into the office again. The supervisor looked up, mildly surprised. “Something else?” “Yeah,” she said. “The red panda. K. Which shelter?” He watched her for a moment, then reached for the tablet on his desk, scrolling through intake logs. “Transferred about thirty minutes ago,” he said. “Moon Shelter.” (Y/n) nodded, committing it to memory. “Thank you.” He gave a short nod in return. “Get some rest.” She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she turned and walked out, the hallway stretching ahead of her, quieter now that most of the immediate work had been assigned. Outside, the city was still awake, lights glowing against the night. (Y/n) stepped out into it, already pulling her phone out as she moved. Home first. Change. Then the shelter. A promise was a promise.

~~~

The Moon Shelter was anything but quiet. Even at three in the morning, the place buzzed with movement. Soft footsteps echoed down the halls, voices low but constant, the occasional metallic clink of equipment being moved. The air smelled clean, clinical, but warmer than the headquarters. Less rigid. More human. (Y/n) pushed the door open, stepping inside as it shut quietly behind her. “(Y/n)?” She looked up. Yuma stood a few steps away, half buried behind a stack of papers, dark circles under his eyes but a familiar grin breaking through the exhaustion. He straightened immediately when he saw her.

“Yuma,” she said, walking over. “It’s been a while. How are you?” He pulled her into a quick hug, tight but brief. “Yeah, no kidding. Heard about tonight. Good work.” “Thanks,” she said, pulling back, glancing down at the mess in his hands. “But hey, I asked you a question.” He let out a tired laugh, lifting the papers slightly. “I’m good,” he said. “But I don’t think I’m sleeping for a week with all of this.” (Y/n) smiled, shaking her head. “Yeah, the operation was bigger than we thought. I’m just glad we pulled it off.” Yuma nodded, his expression softening for a moment before curiosity slipped in. “So,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “what brings you here at three in the morning?”

(Y/n) hesitated for just a second. Then she smiled, a little more nervous than she expected to feel. “I kind of promised one of the hybrids we rescued that I’d come visit him.” Yuma’s grin widened immediately. “Let me guess,” he said, already turning slightly. “The red panda?” (Y/n) blinked. “How did you know?” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Just a guess,” he said. “Considering the only thing he’s been asking about since he got here is how visitors work.” That made something in her chest tighten. “Anyways,” Yuma added, jerking his head toward the hallway, “come on.”

He started walking, weaving through the controlled chaos of the shelter. (Y/n) followed close behind, her heels clicking softly against the floor, the sound oddly out of place among everything else. They passed open rooms. Some hybrids were being checked over by medical staff, quiet reassurances filling the space. Others sat wrapped in blankets, eyes heavy, finally starting to come down from the adrenaline. A few slept, curled up in corners or on cots, exhaustion winning out. “Most of them are stable,” Yuma said as they walked. “A few need more attention, but nothing we can’t handle.” “That’s good,” (Y/n) replied, though her focus had already started to narrow. They turned down a quieter hallway. Less movement here. Softer lighting. The kind of space meant for recovery instead of urgency.

Yuma slowed as they reached a door near the end. “He’s in here,” he said, glancing at her. “Been… restless.” (Y/n) nodded, her hand lifting slightly before she paused. For a second, she just stood there, staring at the door. Then she let out a slow breath, steadying herself, her fingers hovering just inches from the handle, but then she knocked softly before opening the door. A quiet voice answered from inside. “Come in.” (Y/n) pushed the door open. K stood by the window, the faint light from outside casting a soft glow around him. He had been changed into clean clothes, simple and comfortable, and though he looked better physically, something in his posture had shifted. His ears were pressed down into his fluffy hair, his tail hanging low and still behind him.

He looked… smaller, somehow. “Hey, K,” (Y/n) said gently. He turned quickly at the sound of her voice. The change was immediate. His tail lifted, moving slightly, his ears twitching as they perked up just a bit. A smile broke across his face, bright and genuine. “You came,” he said. (Y/n) smiled back, stepping fully into the room. “I promised, didn’t I?” He nodded quickly, almost eagerly, then gestured toward the small bed. “You can sit,” he said, a little awkward but clearly trying. (Y/n) walked over and sat down, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She expected him to join her, maybe sit beside her, but instead he lowered himself to the floor in front of her, settling with his back against the wall.

She blinked, tilting her head slightly. “Why are you sitting down there?” He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can look at you easier this way.” (Y/n) let out a soft chuckle. “Alright.” The room settled into a quiet calm after that. No rush. No urgency. Just the faint hum of the shelter outside and the steady, shared silence between them. K didn’t look away. His gaze stayed fixed on her, careful, focused, like he was trying to take in every detail. Like he was afraid something might change if he looked away for too long. (Y/n) noticed, but she didn’t call it out.

She had changed since earlier. The dress was gone, replaced by something simpler, more comfortable. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands escaping around her face. No makeup now, nothing polished or rehearsed. Just her. K tilted his head slightly, studying her in this new light. She had looked beautiful before, in the bright lights and expensive clothes, like she belonged somewhere far away from him. But this… This felt different. Softer. Real. And still just as beautiful.

His tail gave a small, absent flick against the floor as he kept looking at her, like he was trying to memorize everything. For a while, they just sat there, the quiet stretching comfortably between them. Eventually, (Y/n) shifted slightly, resting her hands in her lap as she looked down at him. “Is your name actually K?” she asked gently. “Or is it something else?” K went still for a moment. His fingers stilled against his tail as he thought. “It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about it,” he admitted quietly. His gaze drifted for a second, like he was reaching back for something distant. “My birth name was Koga Yudai.” The name lingered in the air. “But they shortened it,” he added after a moment. “Just to K. Simpler, I guess.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, letting the weight of that settle. “Would you prefer if I called you Yudai, then?” He looked up at her. Something in his expression softened almost instantly, like the sound of it alone had reached somewhere deeper than anything else. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It sounds… nice. Hearing that again.” (Y/n) smiled warmly. “It’s a pretty name.” Yudai tilted his head slightly, a faint, thoughtful look crossing his face as his fingers absentmindedly played with the soft fur of his tail now resting across his lap. “So,” he said after a moment, glancing back up at her, “what’s your name?”

(Y/n) blinked, then let out a small laugh, bringing a hand up to her forehead. “Oh, wow, I never actually introduced myself, did I?” She shook her head lightly, still smiling. “I’m (Y/n).” Yudai repeated it quietly under his breath, like he was testing how it felt. Then he smiled. “That’s a very pretty name too.” (Y/n) felt a small warmth settle in her chest. “Thank you.” He leaned forward just slightly, curiosity slipping into his expression now that the initial tension had eased. “So… what do you do for HPS?” he asked. (Y/n) shifted her weight, leaning back onto one hand, her posture more relaxed now. “I usually go undercover,” she explained. “Infiltrating fighting rings, black markets… places like that.”

Yudai’s ears twitched faintly as he listened. “When I put some effort in,” she continued with a small, almost amused smile, “I can look like I fit into that world.” He studied her for a second, his gaze steady and sincere. “You look pretty now too,” he said.

(Y/n) blinked, then let out a soft giggle, a little caught off guard. “Thank you, Yudai,” she said, her tone light, “but that’s not really what I meant.” He tilted his head again, clearly confused. “I meant the lifestyle,” she clarified, smiling. “Blending in with the kind of people who go to those places. Acting like I belong there.” “Oh,” he said softly, though his expression didn’t fully change. His fingers brushed lightly over his tail again as he looked at her, still thoughtful. “you still look like you belong somewhere better,” he added, almost to himself.

(Y/n) let out a quiet yawn, bringing a hand up to cover it. The exhaustion was finally catching up to her. It settled heavy in her limbs, slow and unavoidable. There was a reason undercover agents were given time off after missions like this. Weeks of pretending, staying alert, never fully relaxing. It wore you down in ways that didn’t always show right away. This one had been long. Nearly two months of tracking the circus, moving from place to place, gathering scraps of information until they found the right one. The right people. And now that it was over, her body was starting to collect the debt.

Yudai noticed immediately. His ears dipped slightly, his expression shifting as he watched her. “You’re tired,” he said quietly. (Y/n) gave a small, apologetic smile. “Yeah. It’s been a long couple of weeks.” Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment. Worry. He hesitated for a moment, then gestured quickly to the bed behind her. “You can stay,” he said. “You can sleep here if you want.” (Y/n) blinked, a little surprised. “I can stay down here,” he added, nodding toward the floor where he was already sitting. “It’s fine.” She shook her head almost immediately, her expression softening. “No, it’s okay,” she said gently. “I should go home and get some proper rest.”

The words landed heavier than she meant them to. Yudai’s gaze dropped slightly, his tail going still in his lap. He nodded, but the movement felt smaller this time, quieter. Like he already knew what that meant. Like he had heard it before. (Y/n) noticed. Of course she did. Her chest tightened just a little as she watched him, the way his shoulders sank, the way he tried to hide it. So she leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “Hey,” she said. He looked up. “I’m coming back,” she added. “I just need to sleep for a bit first. Then I’ll come visit again.” There was a pause. Yudai searched her face again, like he had earlier, like he needed to be sure. Then, slowly, a small smile returned. “Okay,” he said, nodding.

He held onto that word carefully, like it meant something important. “I’ll be waiting.” (Y/n) smiled back, a little tired, but warm. “Good.” For a moment longer, neither of them moved. Then she pushed herself up from the bed, steadying herself as she stood. The exhaustion was still there, pulling at her, but lighter somehow now. “I’ll see you soon, Yudai.” He nodded again, more certain this time. “Soon.” And as she turned to leave, his eyes followed her all the way to the door, holding onto the promise she left behind like it was something solid.

On her way out, (Y/n) stopped by the front desk where Yuma was still buried under paperwork. He barely looked up at first, flipping through a stack before pausing when he noticed her again. “Heading out already?” “Yeah,” she said, offering a small wave. “I’ll be back this afternoon. After I get some actual sleep.”

Yuma let out a quiet huff of amusement. “Good. You look like you’re about to fall over.” “Rude,” she replied, though there was no real bite to it. He smirked, grabbing a pen and scribbling something down on a nearby sheet. “I’ll make a note of it. If I’m not here, they’ll still let you in.” “Thanks, Yuma.” “Get some rest, (Y/n).” She nodded, then stepped out into the early morning air. By the time she made it home, everything felt hazy. Her body moved on autopilot, shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, clothes half dealt with before she made it to her bed. She didn’t even remember closing her eyes. Sleep took her instantly.

~~~

Hours later, she woke up to sunlight spilling through her window. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind slow to catch up with her body. The exhaustion wasn’t gone, but it had softened, dulled into something manageable. She reached for her phone, blinking at the screen. A message from Nicholas. You alive? Another followed shortly after. I might sleep for a week. (Y/n) let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you would,” she muttered. She typed out a quick response, something reassuring, something light, before setting the phone aside and dragging herself out of bed.

A shower helped. Clean clothes helped more. By the time she stepped outside again, she felt almost like herself, almost. On the way back to the shelter, she slowed as she passed a small café, the smell of fresh coffee and sugar drifting out onto the street. She paused. Then turned. Inside, the display case was lined with pastries and desserts, neat rows of things that looked far too nice to ignore. She scanned them for a moment, thinking. She didn’t know what Yudai liked. Did he even know what he liked? The thought lingered just long enough to make her decision for her.

“I’ll take a few of those,” she said, pointing to a mix of cakes and small desserts. “And… two iced coffees.” The barista nodded, already packing things up. (Y/n) took the bag when it was handed to her, balancing the drinks carefully in her other hand. If he didn’t like it, that was fine. Someone at the shelter would. But as she stepped back out onto the street, heading toward Moon Shelter again, she found herself hoping he would.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure when it had started. That pull. It didn’t make sense. She had been doing this for years, stepping into places most people didn’t even know existed, seeing things most people would never believe. She had cared, always. That was why she stayed. Why she kept going back. But this felt… different. Too personal. Too focused. She adjusted her grip on the small bag of desserts as she walked, her thoughts drifting despite herself.

Her mind wandered further back than she expected, to a fifteen year old her. That was when everything changed. She hadn’t known what it was at first. Just an invite, passed along like something exclusive, something exciting. A place where “interesting things” happened. She had been curious. Careless, maybe. She remembered the noise when she first stepped inside. The way the air had felt thick, wrong. The crowd too loud, too eager. And then she had seen it. The fight. Hybrids forced against each other, injured, exhausted, with nowhere to go. People cheering. Betting. Treating it like entertainment. She hadn’t stayed long after that.

She had stepped outside, hands shaking, and called the first number she could find connected to something called Hybrid Protection Services. She expected them to show up. She didn’t expect them to ask her to stay. To watch. To tell them everything she could. “I can’t go back in there,” she had said, her voice barely steady. “You don’t have to,” the voice on the other end had replied calmly. “Just tell us what you saw. Anything helps.” But she had gone back.

Carefully, quietly watching. And when it was over, when HPS had stormed in and shut it down, they had found her. Asked her questions. Then something else. “You got in once,” one of them had said. “You think you could do it again?” She should have said no. Instead, she had said, “Yeah.” And she never really stopped. (Y/n) exhaled softly, shaking her head as she stepped up to the shelter doors, pushing them open. Years of that. Of going undercover, blending in, pretending to be someone who belonged in those places. And in all that time, she had never felt like this about any of them. Not like she did with Yudai.

The thought lingered as she stepped inside, the familiar hum of activity greeting her again. This time, though, it felt calmer. Slower. At the front desk, Yuma was slumped forward, head resting awkwardly on a stack of papers, very much asleep. (Y/n) walked over quietly, setting the drinks down carefully before reaching out and nudging his shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly. “You’re going to break your neck like that.” Yuma stirred, blinking awake in confusion, his head lifting too quickly before he winced. “Oh, that already hurts,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. (Y/n) laughed lightly. “Told you. Find somewhere better to nap.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, glancing down at the mountain of paperwork still waiting for him. He let out a long, defeated groan. “I hate this part of the job.” She smiled sympathetically, sliding one of the iced coffees toward him. “Peace offering.” Yuma looked at it like it might save his life. “You’re my favorite person right now.” “I figured.” He took a long sip, sighing like it actually helped, then glanced back at her. “You’re here for Yudai, right?” She nodded. “Yeah. Is he still in his room?” “Should be,” Yuma said, then paused, tilting his head slightly. “Well… again.” (Y/n) frowned just a little. “Again?” He nodded, setting the coffee down. “Yeah. They pulled him in for another med check earlier.” Her expression tightened slightly. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Yuma said quickly. “He’s actually one of the better cases. No major injuries, no severe physical trauma. Which is… rare, considering where he came from.” (Y/n) let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “But,” Yuma added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “he’s been a bit of a challenge in other ways.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Yuma leaned back slightly in his chair, folding his arms. “He keeps bringing you up.” (Y/n) blinked. “What?” “Yeah,” he said, clearly amused now. “Every time we try to ask him something, redirect the conversation, get background info… somehow it circles back to you.” (Y/n) felt her cheeks warm just slightly. 

“That’s… not helpful for you.” “Not even a little,” Yuma said with a laugh. “But it does tell me something.” She crossed her arms lightly, trying to ignore the small knot forming in her chest. “What’s that?” He gave her a knowing look. “He trusts you.” That landed heavier than she expected. Yuma reached for his coffee again, taking another sip before gesturing down the hall. “Go on. He should be back in his room by now.” (Y/n) nodded, picking up the bag and the second drink. “Thanks, Yuma.” “Anytime,” he said, already glancing back at his paperwork with a resigned sigh.

(Y/n) made her way down the hallway, her steps a little lighter this time. When she reached the door Yuma had shown her earlier, she paused for just a second, then knocked. She expected the same quiet come in. Instead, the door opened almost immediately. “(Y/n)!” Yudai stood there, eyes bright, his tail moving behind him in quick, uneven sways that were probably the closest thing to wagging he could manage. The shift from earlier was obvious. Lighter. Happier. (Y/n) smiled without even thinking about it. “I brought some snacks,” she said, lifting the bag slightly. “Or… sweets, I guess. And a coffee for you, if you want it.”

His smile widened as he took the bag from her, careful but eager. “Come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside. She walked in, setting the drink down on the small table before turning back toward him. Yudai had already settled onto the floor again, like it was the most natural place for him to be. (Y/n) watched him for a second. Then, without much thought, she lowered herself down to sit across from him. He blinked, clearly surprised. “You can sit on the bed,” he said, gesturing quickly. “It’s more comfortable.” She shook her head lightly. “I’m fine here.” He hesitated, like he wanted to argue, then gave in with a small nod.

His attention shifted to the table. “There’s only one,” he said, pointing at the coffee. (Y/n) leaned back slightly, resting her hands behind her. “I did buy two,” she admitted. “But I gave mine to Yuma. He looked like he needed it more than me.” Yudai’s expression softened again, something quiet and thoughtful settling in his eyes. She’s so kind, he thought, almost absently. Then he looked back at the drink. “You should have this one then,” he said, nudging it slightly in her direction. “I don’t need it.” (Y/n) looked at him, then shook her head. “It’s not about what you need,” she said. “It’s about whether you want it.” He paused. Then a small smile returned, softer this time. “How about we share it?” he suggested. (Y/n) let out a light laugh. “Alright,” she said. “If that’s the only way you’ll accept it.”

Yudai’s tail flicked again, a little more relaxed now as he opened the bag, peeking inside at everything she had brought. For a moment, the room felt easy. Simple. Just the two of them, sitting on the floor, deciding which dessert to try first. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a mix of things,” (Y/n) said, watching as he carefully unpacked the bag. Yudai smiled, a soft, pleased expression. “Mm… I like most things.” One by one, he took the desserts out, setting them between them like something precious. His eyes lingered on each one, a quiet kind of awe in the way he looked at them, like he wasn’t used to having options. “They’re… really pretty,” he murmured.

(Y/n) reached into the bag again, pulling out two small wooden spoons. “They’re not the best to eat with,” she admitted, handing him one, “but they’ll have to do.” “I don’t mind,” he said, taking it carefully. They started slow. Trying one thing, then another, occasionally pausing as he reacted to the taste, sometimes surprised, sometimes just quietly pleased. The room filled with small sounds. Soft laughter. The faint clink of spoons against containers. 

For a while, it was easy again. Then (Y/n) set her spoon down. Yudai noticed immediately. She leaned back slightly, reaching for the coffee and taking a small sip before looking at him. “I have a few things I want to ask you,” she said. He straightened just a little, his ears giving a small twitch. “What do you want to know?” (Y/n) hesitated briefly, choosing her words. “Yuma mentioned it’s been a bit difficult to get information from you,” she said, her tone gentle, not accusatory. “So I thought I’d try.” Yudai didn’t look defensive. Just… attentive.

She took another small sip of the coffee, then continued. “How long were you at the circus?” He went quiet. Not shutting down, just thinking. “Maybe around five years,” he said after a moment. “Maybe a bit more. I stopped counting.” (Y/n)’s brows pulled together slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “That long?” He nodded faintly. Her gaze dropped to the desserts between them, her fingers tightening just a little around the cup. “They kept you for that long,” she murmured, more to herself than him. Yudai’s eyes followed hers, settling on one of the untouched pastries. His fingers brushed lightly against it, but he didn’t pick it up.

“They would auction me,” he said quietly. “At the special events.” (Y/n) stilled. “But then they’d find a reason to take me back,” he continued, his voice calm in a way that felt practiced. “Something would always go wrong. Paperwork. Fake payment problems. Behavior.” He gave a small, almost humorless smile. “There was always an excuse for them to take the money but not send me away.” Her grip tightened slightly. “They knew I drew crowds,” he added. “People liked watching. Bidding.” His gaze flicked up to hers for a second before dropping again. “So they used it.”

The room felt heavier now. The untouched desserts sat between them, suddenly less inviting. (Y/n) didn’t interrupt. She just listened. “I noticed something,” (Y/n) said after a moment, her voice softer now. “Last night… you looked a bit happy. Despite everything.” Yudai didn’t seem surprised by the question. He just shrugged lightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns along the edge of a pastry. “They treated me better than most,” he said. “So I didn’t have much to complain about.” (Y/n) frowned slightly, but didn’t interrupt. “I like moving,” he continued. “Dancing. Running. Doing things.” A faint, almost sheepish smile crossed his face. “Not very typical for a red panda, I guess.” She let out a quiet huff of amusement. “Yeah, you’re definitely not what people expect.” He nodded. “So… I got to do something I enjoyed. Perform, move around, stay active.” His voice dipped just slightly. “Considering everything, I felt kind of happy.” Then his gaze dropped. “But I also felt terrible,” he added more quietly. “For everyone else.” (Y/n)’s expression softened. That made sense. More than she liked. “Yeah,” she said gently. “That makes sense.”

There was a brief pause before she shifted slightly, picking up her spoon again only to set it back down without using it. “Okay,” she said, her tone careful. “Before the circus… where were you?” Yudai’s shoulders lifted in another small shrug, but this one felt heavier. “I didn’t really have a home,” he said. (Y/n) stilled. “I was kicked out when I was younger,” he continued. “Maybe fourteen.” Her grip tightened slightly on her knee. “They said I was too energetic,” he went on, his voice flat in a way that felt learned. “Too much. Not what they expected.” (Y/n) didn’t look away from him. “It was easier for them to just…” he made a small, vague motion with his hand, “get rid of me. Than to go through the process of handing me over properly.”

Her jaw tightened. “So I left,” he said simply. “Wandered around. Took care of myself.” For a second, the room felt very small. “And then,” he added, almost like it was just another step in a long line of things, “the man from the circus found me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sharpened slightly. “He offered me a job,” Yudai said. “A place to stay. Food.” A pause. “I didn’t ask questions,” he finished. Silence settled between them again. (Y/n) exhaled slowly, leaning back just a little, her gaze dropping to the floor for a second before lifting again. “You were just a kid,” she said quietly. Yudai didn’t respond to that. He just picked up his spoon again, though he didn’t use it, turning it lightly between his fingers like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands anymore.

“We don’t have to go through everything today,” (Y/n) said gently. “If it’s too much, we can talk about something else.” Yudai shook his head almost immediately. “No,” he said. “I’d rather get everything out now.” She studied him for a second, making sure. Then she nodded. “Alright.” She shifted slightly, her tone careful again. “You said they treated you better than the others… but did they ever hurt you? Abuse you in any way?” Yudai went quiet. His hand tightened around his tail, fingers gripping the fur as he took a slow breath in.

“In the beginning,” he said. (Y/n) felt her chest tighten. “They would hit me,” he continued, his voice steady in a way that felt practiced. “Starve me. Make sure I understood I had to listen.” Her jaw clenched. “I also went through the same kind of… thing you saw last night,” he added, quieter now. “Like the bunny.” (Y/n)’s stomach turned. Yudai hesitated, then lifted his shirt slightly. “Wait, you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to, I already believe you, I just-” She stopped mid sentence. Her breath caught. Along his side, a large scar stretched across his torso. Jagged. Uneven. Too deep to have ever been anything minor. A bite mark.

“Oh, Yudai…” she said softly, the words barely above a whisper. He lowered his shirt again, like it didn’t matter much. “It’s healed,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s just a bad memory now.” (Y/n) shook her head immediately. “That doesn’t make it okay,” she said, her voice firmer now. He didn’t argue. He just looked down again, his fingers loosening slightly in his tail. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then (Y/n) leaned forward just a little, her tone softening again. “They shouldn’t have done that to you,” she said quietly. “To any of you.” Yudai’s ears twitched faintly. “I know,” he replied, though it sounded like something he was still learning to believe.

(Y/n) blinked quickly, lifting her hand to brush away the tear that had almost slipped free. She let out a slow breath, steadying herself. “I think that’s everything we needed to go over,” she said, her voice gentle again. “I’m guessing the shelter already knows about the scars?” Yudai nodded. “Yeah. They saw them during the checks.” He paused, his gaze drifting slightly. “They asked about them too.” (Y/n) tilted her head a little. “But you didn’t answer.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why,” he admitted. “I just… couldn’t. Not with them.” (Y/n) nodded, understanding settling easily. “That’s okay,” she said softly. “They get that. Not everyone is ready to talk about everything, especially with people they don’t know yet.”

That seemed to ease something in him, even if just a little. Silence settled again, lighter this time, less heavy than before. A few seconds passed before Yudai shifted, glancing down at the small spread of desserts between them. He pointed to one of the cakes they had already tried, a small, thoughtful smile returning. “I think that one’s my favorite,” he said. “It was really good.” (Y/n) followed his gesture, smiling. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That one was delicious.”

Her mind still lingered on the scar. On what it meant. On everything he had gone through. But she pushed it back, gently but firmly. Not now. Right now, he was here. Safe. Sitting across from her, talking about cake like it was the most important thing in the world. So she focused on that. On him. The way his eyes seemed to catch the light when he smiled. The small, almost constant movement of his ears, reacting to every little sound. The way his nose scrunched just slightly when he tasted something he didn’t like earlier. The quiet, genuine sound of his laughter. Not the pain. Not the past. Just this.

After another bite of cake, Yudai glanced up at her, curiosity slipping back into his expression. “What do you do,” he asked, “when you’re not working undercover?” (Y/n) leaned back slightly, thinking. “Not much, honestly,” she said with a small shrug. “I hang out with friends sometimes.” He tilted his head, listening closely. “Like Nicholas,” she added. “You saw him last night.” Yudai nodded faintly. “We met when I first started at HPS,” she continued. “He had just started too. We actually hated each other at first.” Yudai blinked, a little surprised. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a quiet laugh. “Couldn’t stand him. But then we realized we had more in common than we thought. Same kind of work, same way of thinking about things.” Her smile softened slightly. “We became friends after that.” She shifted a little, resting her arms loosely on her knees. “Then there’s people like Yuma. I don’t see him as often, since we’re both busy most of the time.” Yudai nodded again, his gaze steady. “And during time off?” he asked. (Y/n) let out a small breath. “I mostly just stay home,” she admitted. “Being undercover takes a lot out of you. I’m usually exhausted the first week after a mission, so I just… rest.”

He watched her for a second longer. “Isn’t it lonely?” he asked quietly. (Y/n) looked up toward the ceiling, considering it. “Sometimes,” she said after a moment. “Yeah.” Her gaze dropped back to him. “But I’m lucky,” she added. “I’ve got Nico. We’re almost always paired together for missions. A lot of people in HPS work completely alone.” She gave a small shrug. “At least we have each other to lean on.” Her expression shifted slightly, something more thoughtful settling in. “But… it’s a lonely world,” she admitted. “Most people are just focused on themselves.” 

Yudai nodded slowly, like he understood that more than she expected. Then he spoke again. “What if you didn’t have to be alone?” (Y/n) blinked, her attention sharpening as she met his gaze. “What do you mean?” Yudai looked down at his tail, his fingers brushing through the soft fur as he gathered his thoughts. “Like…” he started, hesitating just a little. “What if you had a hybrid?” He glanced up at her again, more uncertain now. “Adopted one,” he clarified. “Someone who would always be there for you.”

(Y/n) looked at the window, her gaze lingering on the faint reflection of the two of them in the glass. “I’ve thought about it,” she said, her voice quieter than before, like the admission carried more weight than she wanted it to. “But… I never found a hybrid that I felt connected with.” Her fingers traced lightly against the edge of the bed as she spoke, unfocused. “And even if I had… I didn’t think it would be right for me to adopt one.”

She exhaled slowly, shoulders dipping just a fraction. “Sometimes I have to be gone for a week or two for work,” she continued, glancing down briefly before looking back out the window. “No warning, no set schedule. I can’t always bring someone along, and even if I could, it wouldn’t be safe.” A faint crease formed between her brows. “I’m not sure I’d be able to provide a good home for a hybrid. Not the kind they actually deserve.”

Yudai listened closely, his attention never wavering. His tail twitched in his lap, the soft fur shifting under his fingers as they absentmindedly brushed over it. There was a slight tension in his posture now, something quieter, more careful, as he processed every word she said. “But what if the hybrid would be okay with that life?” he asked. His voice was gentle, but there was something underneath it. Not pressure. Not quite. Just… hope, carefully tucked between the words. (Y/n) turned her head at that, meeting his gaze fully this time. For a second, she didn’t answer. She just looked at him, really looked. The way his ears had dipped just slightly, like he was bracing himself. The way his fingers stilled against his tail, waiting.

She knew what he was doing. He wasn’t just asking a question. He was asking for himself. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel it too. That pull. That quiet, persistent feeling that had been there since the moment he took her hand in that chaos. It hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only settled deeper. But that didn’t make it simple. Her expression softened, but there was hesitation in it now, something more guarded. “Yudai…” she started, then paused, her voice catching just slightly before she found it again. “It’s not just about being okay with it.”

Her fingers curled faintly against her palm, like she was grounding herself in the thought. “Sometimes people think they can handle something,” she said carefully, “until they’re actually living it.” Her gaze didn’t leave his. “Being alone more often than not. Waiting. Not knowing when someone’s coming back.” There was a flicker of something in her eyes. Not doubt in him. Just… doubt in the situation. “I don’t want to be the reason someone feels like that,” she admitted quietly. The room fell into a softer kind of silence after that, the kind that wasn’t empty, just full of everything neither of them was quite saying yet.

Yudai nodded, but the movement was small, almost hesitant. His gaze dropped for a moment, and even though he didn’t say anything, the shift in his expression said enough. The brightness from earlier dimmed just slightly, something quieter settling in its place. His tail stilled in his lap, the earlier flicks fading into stillness. (Y/n) noticed immediately. Guilt pressed at her chest, heavier than she expected. She looked away for a second, her jaw tightening just a little. She wished, not for the first time, that things were different. That her life didn’t revolve around missions, undercover work, disappearing for days at a time without warning.

But it wasn’t something she could just walk away from. HPS needed people like her. People who could blend in, who could hold their ground in places like that circus without breaking cover. And she and Nicholas… they had spent years building that rhythm together, learning how to move, how to think, how to trust each other without hesitation. No one else at HPS had anywhere near as many successful missions as they did. That wasn’t something she could abandon.

(Y/n) leaned her head back slightly, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I know what you’re asking,” she said quietly. Her voice was softer now, more careful. “And Yudai…” She lowered her gaze again, looking back at him. “I really do like you,” she admitted, the words coming easier than she expected, but no less true. “You’re… special.” Yudai looked up at her then, his eyes glazy, like he was holding onto every word she said, afraid of what might come next. “But I don’t know if I can,” she finished.

The words lingered between them. For a second, neither of them moved. Then Yudai leaned forward just slightly, his expression shifting, something hopeful pushing through the uncertainty. “We can make it work, can’t we?” he asked. His voice was soft, but there was a quiet determination there. Not forceful, not demanding. Just… believing. (Y/n)’s chest tightened. She should have said no. She knew she should have. It would have been the safer answer. The more responsible one. But when she looked at him, really looked, at the way he was watching her, waiting, hoping… She couldn’t find it in herself to say it. Instead, she exhaled softly, her shoulders easing just a little. “We can try,” she said.

For a split second, Yudai just stared at her, like he needed to make sure he heard her right. Then his expression broke into a smile, bright and unguarded, something warm rushing back into his eyes. Before she could react, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her in a quick, instinctive hug. (Y/n) stiffened for half a second, caught off guard, then slowly relaxed into it, her arms coming up to return it just as gently. Yudai held onto her like it meant something. Like she meant something. “You feel like home,” he whispered. The words were quiet, almost lost in the space between them, but she heard them clearly.

After a while, the quiet in the room shifted, not uncomfortable, just… aware. Time had passed without either of them really noticing, but it caught up eventually. (Y/n) let out a soft breath, glancing toward the door before looking back at him. “I should go,” she said gently. Yudai’s expression changed almost instantly. Not dramatically, but enough. His ears dipped just slightly, and his fingers curled faintly where they rested in his lap. “Oh,” he said, quieter now. She offered him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she added quickly. “I just… I need to figure some things out first. Find a way to make this work.”

He studied her face for a second, searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe certainty. Then he nodded, even if it looked reluctant. “Okay,” he said.

There was a pause, like neither of them quite wanted to be the first to move. Eventually, Yudai let go of her hand. He walked her to the door, slower than necessary, like stretching out the last few seconds. When she stepped into the hallway, he lingered there, watching her. There was something in his eyes now, something he didn’t say out loud. A quiet fear. That she might not come back. But he didn’t voice it. Instead, he gave her a small smile. “I’ll be here.” (Y/n) nodded, meeting his gaze. “I know.” And then she turned, walking down the hall without looking back, even though she could feel his eyes on her until she disappeared around the corner.

~~~

The air outside was cooler now, the evening settling in. (Y/n) stepped out of the shelter, pulling her jacket a little tighter around herself as she exhaled slowly. Her mind was already moving, turning over everything that had just happened. She didn’t wait long before pulling out her phone. Nicholas picked up on the second ring. “Miss me already?” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. She huffed a quiet laugh. “Something like that. You got time to meet?” There was a pause, then a tired exhale on the other end. “Yeah… but you’re coming to me. I’m not moving.” (Y/n) smiled faintly. “Figures.” “Door’s unlocked,” he added. “Just don’t judge the state of my apartment.” “No promises,” she said, hanging up.

Nicholas’s place looked exactly how she expected. Shoes kicked off near the door. A jacket draped over the back of a chair. The faint smell of takeout still lingering in the air. The lights were dim, giving the whole space a tired, lived-in feel. He was sprawled on the couch when she walked in, one arm thrown over his eyes like he hadn’t bothered to fully sit up. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled. (Y/n) kicked off her shoes and walked further in, glancing around with a small smirk. “Wow. You really went all out cleaning up for me.” “Be grateful I’m conscious,” he shot back, though there was no real bite to it.

She huffed softly, dropping onto the couch beside him, leaning back with a quiet sigh. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just… existed in the shared quiet. Then she turned her head slightly. “I need your opinion on something.” Nicholas shifted, lowering his arm just enough to look at her. “That sounds dangerous.”“It probably is.” That got him to sit up a little more, running a hand through his hair as he blinked away the last bits of sleep. “Alright. What’s going on?” (Y/n) hesitated for a second, then started talking. She told him about Yudai. About the conversation. About what he asked. What she said. The parts she wasn’t sure about.

Nicholas didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression gradually sharpening as the tiredness faded into something more focused. When she finished, the room fell quiet again. (Y/n) stared at the floor, her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap. “I just don’t know if I can give him what he needs,” she admitted. “I’m barely home half the time. And when I am, I’m usually exhausted or prepping for the next mission.” Nicholas leaned back slightly, watching her for a moment before speaking.

“It’s not always about having the perfect home on paper,” he said. (Y/n) glanced up at him. “It’s much more important to have the right heart,” he continued, his tone steady, certain. “And you have that. No question.” She frowned faintly, like she wasn’t fully convinced. “The fact that you’re even here, stressing about whether you’d be good enough?” he added. “That already puts you ahead of most people.” (Y/n) let out a quiet breath, her shoulders easing just a little. “Yeah, our job makes things complicated,” Nicholas went on, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“We disappear. We don’t have normal schedules. But we’ve made it work before. We adapt.” He glanced at her, a small, knowing look in his eyes. “And let’s be honest. If anyone could make something like this work, it’d be you.” She huffed softly. “You’re biased.” “Obviously,” he said without hesitation. “But I’m also right.” That pulled a faint smile from her. Nicholas’s expression softened just a little. “And from what you’re saying… that red panda’s already halfway attached to you.” (Y/n) looked down, thinking about it. About the way Yudai had looked at her. The way he had said he’d wait. “…Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “So it’s not just about whether you can handle it,” Nicholas said. “It’s about whether you want to.”

That made her pause. Really pause. Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as everything he said settled in. Did she want to? Images flickered through her mind. Yudai smiling when she walked in. The way he sat on the floor just to be closer to her. The quiet trust in his voice. You feel like home. Her chest tightened slightly. (Y/n) exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling now. For the first time, the thought didn’t feel impossible. Complicated, yes. Difficult, definitely. But not impossible. And that was new.

Nicholas watched her, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “There it is.” She blinked, looking at him. “What?” “That look,” he said. “The one where you’ve already decided and you’re just catching up to it.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes lightly, but there was no real denial behind it. “Maybe,” she muttered. But as she sat there, turning the idea over in her mind, she could finally see it. Not just the risks. But the possibility. And for the first time since Yudai asked, it didn’t scare her quite as much.

After she left Nicholas’ place and made her way home, the city felt quieter than usual. Or maybe it was just her, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice anything else. By the time she stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind her with a soft click, the silence wrapped around her completely. (Y/n) stood there for a moment, not moving, just letting everything settle. Would it actually be possible? Could she really do this? Her eyes drifted slowly across the space, taking it in like she hadn’t seen it properly in a while. The living room was neat, familiar, everything in its place. It had always been enough for her. Functional. Comfortable.

But now she was looking at it differently. She stepped further in, setting her things down absentmindedly as her thoughts kept turning. She wanted to make it work. That part was becoming clearer with every passing second. Her gaze shifted down the hallway, landing on the closed door at the end. The spare room. It had always just been there, used occasionally when someone stayed over, otherwise untouched for weeks at a time. Slowly, she walked toward it. Her hand rested on the handle for a second before she pushed it open. The room inside was simple. A bed, a dresser, a small desk by the window. Clean, but impersonal. It didn’t feel like anyone’s space. Not yet.

(Y/n) stepped inside, looking around more carefully now, imagining instead of just observing. It wouldn’t take much to change it. A few adjustments, something more personal, something that actually felt lived in. “That could work…” she murmured to herself. Her mind kept going. Money wasn’t an issue. That had never really been a concern. She could afford it. Food, supplies, anything he’d need. That part was easy. It was everything else that made her hesitate. Her job. The unpredictable schedule. The long absences. (Y/n) exhaled softly, leaning against the doorframe as she thought.

He was active. That much was obvious. Always moving, always needing something to do. But her building had a gym. She glanced back toward the main area of the apartment, picturing it. He could use that. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. A place for him to move, to burn off that endless energy. A small smile tugged at her lips at the thought. Then another idea followed. Yuma. Her brows lifted slightly as she straightened. He already had a hybrid of his own. He understood what it meant, what it required. And more importantly, he was someone she trusted.

“If I’m away…” she murmured, thinking it through. “He could help.” It wouldn’t be all the time. She wouldn’t ask that. But enough to bridge the gaps. Enough to make sure Yudai wasn’t alone. And knowing Yudai… He’d probably get along with Yuma’s bunny hybrid. The thought came easier than she expected. She could already picture it, in a vague way. Not perfectly, but enough to feel possible. Not just manageable. Possible. (Y/n) stepped further into the room, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the desk as her thoughts settled into something more solid.

Maybe it could actually work. Maybe all the things she thought were obstacles… weren’t as impossible as she had made them out to be. Her chest felt a little lighter. She turned slightly, looking back out into the apartment, seeing it differently now. Not just as her space. But something that could be shared. Something that could be a home. “Maybe…” she said quietly, almost to herself. Maybe she could give him that. A real home. A good home.

~~~

The next day, when (Y/n) arrived at the shelter, her steps slowed slightly as she entered the building. The familiar sounds greeted her almost immediately. Quiet conversations, paperwork shuffling, the occasional metallic clink from somewhere deeper in the facility. It felt calmer than it had the first night, more settled. For a brief moment, her eyes flicked toward the hallway leading to Yudai’s room. Then she forced herself to look away. Not yet.

Instead, she made her way toward the front desk, where Yuma sat half buried beneath another mountain of paperwork. This time he looked at least somewhat awake, though only barely. He glanced up when he noticed her approaching, and a small grin immediately appeared on his face. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite undercover agent.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes lightly. “You say that like you know more than three people.” “I know four, actually.” “Impressive.” Yuma huffed a laugh, setting his pen down. “You’re here early.” “Yeah.” She hesitated briefly, shifting her weight slightly. “Do you have a few minutes to spare later? Maybe lunch?” His brows lifted just slightly at the tone in her voice, curiosity flickering across his face almost immediately. “That serious, huh?” “Maybe.” Yuma glanced down at the stack of papers in front of him, visibly debating how much he cared about them. Then he sighed dramatically. “I can spare thirty minutes.” (Y/n) smiled faintly. “I’ll take it.”

The lunch place nearby was small and quiet, tucked between two larger storefronts. The kind of place that smelled constantly of warm bread and coffee, where conversations stayed low and unhurried. By the time they sat down across from each other, Yuma already looked suspiciously interested. “You’ve got that look,” he said, pointing at her with his fork before they had even started eating. (Y/n) frowned slightly. “What look?” “The one where you’re overthinking something important.” She let out a quiet breath through her nose. “That obvious?” “To people who know you? Yeah.” (Y/n) looked down at her drink for a second before finally speaking. “I’ve been thinking about adopting Yudai.” Yuma’s expression softened almost instantly, like the answer made perfect sense to him. “But,” she added quickly, “I still don’t know how to make it work.”

He leaned back slightly in his seat, listening quietly as she continued. She explained everything. Her schedule. Missions. Being away unexpectedly. The apartment. The uncertainty that still lingered in the back of her mind no matter how badly she wanted to ignore it. Yuma listened without interrupting, his attention fully on her the entire time. When she finally finished, exhaling softly like she had been carrying the thoughts around for too long, he smiled. And it was annoyingly knowing. “Oh no,” (Y/n) muttered immediately. “You’re about to say something wise, aren’t you?” “I’m always wise.” “You fell asleep on paperwork yesterday.” “And yet, I’m still right.”

(Y/n) shook her head lightly, but a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. Yuma rested his arms on the table, his expression growing gentler. “Listen,” he said, “it’s not about having the perfect home.” Her eyes flicked up to him. “It’s about having the right heart.” The words hit differently this time, maybe because she had already heard them once before. Maybe because hearing them again made them harder to dismiss. Yuma continued before she could say anything. “And honestly? It’s pretty obvious Yudai likes you.” A faint grin appeared again. “A lot.”

(Y/n) felt warmth creep faintly into her cheeks. “Yuma.” “I’m serious,” he said with a laugh. “He barely spends time with anyone else unless he has to. Half the conversations I’ve had with him somehow end up back on you.” She looked away briefly, trying and failing not to smile a little. “There isn’t a single person here more perfect for Yudai than you,” Yuma said more softly now. That made her go quiet. Not because she didn’t want to respond. But because a part of her was finally starting to believe it. Yuma watched her for a second before adding, “And for the work thing? I’ll help you.” Her brows lifted slightly. “You would?” “Of course.” He shrugged easily. “It’s fine. You’re not asking me to raise him. Just help out sometimes when missions come up.” A small smirk tugged at his mouth. “Besides, Harua could probably use another friend around.”

(Y/n) let out a soft laugh at that, the tension in her chest easing little by little. Everything she had worried about suddenly felt… manageable. Not perfect. But real. Possible. She sat there quietly for a moment, taking a slow breath as the last pieces finally settled into place. Then she nodded once. Firmly this time. “Okay,” she said. Yuma blinked. “Okay?” (Y/n) looked up at him, and for the first time since all of this started, there was certainty in her expression of hesitation. “Okay,” she repeated, a small smile forming. “Let’s do this.” Yuma’s face immediately broke into a grin. “There she is.” He pointed at her like he had been waiting for that exact moment. “Good. Because I was already mentally preparing the paperwork.” (Y/n) laughed softly, shaking her head. “Of course you were.”

By the time they walked back to the shelter, something inside her felt lighter. Nervous, still. But lighter. Yuma peeled off toward the front desk almost immediately. “I’ll get started on everything,” he said, already pulling files toward himself. “You go talk to him.” (Y/n) nodded slowly. Then she turned toward the hallway. Toward the door she had already become far too familiar with over the last few days. Her heart beat a little faster as she approached it this time. Not from uncertainty. But anticipation. (Y/n) didn’t even have time to knock before the door suddenly opened. Yudai stood there, already smiling the second he saw her.

“Hi,” he said excitedly, the word coming out almost too fast. (Y/n) blinked once before laughing softly, caught off guard by how eager he looked. “Eager, are we?” she asked, amusement warming her voice. Yudai’s ears twitched immediately in his fluffy hair, and his tail swayed once behind him before he stepped back quickly. “Come in,” he said. “Come on, hurry.” That only made her laugh more. “Alright, alright,” she said, shaking her head as she walked inside. The room already looked more lived in compared to the first night she visited. A blanket draped messily over the bed now, a few books stacked near the window, little signs that someone was settling into the space instead of just occupying it.

(Y/n) sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight. Then she patted the spot beside her. Yudai closed the door almost immediately before crossing the room toward her without hesitation. He sat down close beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. His fluffy tail curled naturally across the bed, ending up resting between them. (Y/n)’s eyes dropped to it automatically. Up close, it looked even softer than before, thick fur catching the warm light of the room. His ears twitched faintly again as he noticed her staring. “Can I touch your tail?” she asked. Yudai looked surprised for half a second, then nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Carefully, (Y/n) rested her hand against the soft fur, gently running her fingers along it. Her brows lifted slightly. It was warm. Really warm. And softer than she expected, the thick fur smooth beneath her hand as it shifted faintly under her touch. Yudai visibly relaxed beside her almost immediately, his shoulders loosening as a quiet sound left him, somewhere between a sigh and contentment. (Y/n) smiled faintly to herself as she continued absentmindedly petting his tail. It kind of resembled Yudai himself. Warm. Soft. Comforting.

There was an energy to it too, subtle movements beneath her hand, little twitches every now and then that reminded her so much of him it almost made her laugh. Kind. Gentle. Fun. The thought settled somewhere deep in her chest, smoothing out the last traces of uncertainty that had been lingering there since yesterday. And before she could stop herself from overthinking it again, the words left her mouth. “I’m adopting you.” Her hand froze against his tail. Yudai froze too. The room went completely still. For a second, he just stared at her. Like he hadn’t understood the words. Or maybe like he had understood them perfectly and simply couldn’t believe them.

(Y/n)’s heart jumped slightly at the expression on his face. His eyes widened slowly, the brightness in them wavering with something much more fragile. He had prepared himself for the opposite. Prepared himself to hear no. Prepared himself for her to sit him down gently and explain why it wouldn’t work, why she couldn’t do it, why this was where things ended. He had come into today already trying to brace himself for goodbye. Like he always had to. But she wasn’t saying goodbye. She wasn’t leaving him behind. Instead, she had just opened a door he had convinced himself would always stay locked. Yudai’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out at first. His tail twitched once beneath her frozen hand. Then again.

And suddenly his eyes looked glazy all over again, emotion rising too fast for him to hide properly. “You…” he started softly, almost breathless. “You mean it?” (Y/n)’s expression softened instantly at the sound of his voice. “Yeah,” she said quietly. The second the word left her mouth, something in Yudai cracked completely. Not painfully. Just suddenly. His ears dropped low into his hair as he looked down for a second, one shaky breath leaving him before he laughed softly under it, like he didn’t know what else to do with the feeling building in his chest. “You’re really…” He swallowed hard, looking back at her with eyes that were shining now. “You’re really taking me home?”

(Y/n) felt her own chest tighten at the way he said it. Home. Not adopting. Not ownership. Home. “Yeah,” she repeated softly, her hand finally moving again against his tail. “If you still want that.” Yudai looked at her like the question itself was ridiculous. Then, before she could react, he threw his arms around her so suddenly she almost lost balance on the bed. (Y/n) let out a startled laugh as he held onto her tightly, his face burying against her shoulder. “Yes,” he whispered immediately. “Yes, I want that.” Yuma came by the room not long after, a thick stack of papers tucked beneath one arm and a pen hooked loosely between his fingers. He paused when he stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene before him.

Yudai was sitting impossibly close to (Y/n), his tail curled halfway around her side now like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Meanwhile, (Y/n) looked calmer than Yuma had seen her in days. A slow grin spread across his face. “Well,” he said lightly, lifting the papers slightly, “judging by the looks on your faces, I’m guessing this is good timing.” (Y/n) laughed softly, a little embarrassed now that someone else was witnessing this moment. “Something like that.” Yudai looked between them, still visibly overwhelmed, like he hadn’t fully come back down from what she had said yet.

Yuma’s expression softened slightly as he stepped further inside. “I’ve got the paperwork ready,” he explained. “Just some signatures and confirmations.” (Y/n) nodded immediately, taking the papers from him carefully. Yudai watched everything. Every page she flipped through. Every line she read. Every signature she wrote. His eyes followed the movement of her hand across the papers with almost painful focus, like he was terrified something would suddenly change halfway through. Like one wrong word might make all of this disappear. But it didn’t. Page after page, she signed. Calmly. Certainly. Without hesitation. Yudai’s chest felt tight. Too tight.

He had spent so long preparing himself for disappointment that his mind still couldn’t fully catch up to what was happening. This wasn’t temporary. She wasn’t reconsidering. She wasn’t backing out. She was choosing him. Actually choosing him. His fingers curled tighter against his lap as emotion swelled too quickly inside his chest, his ears twitching faintly where they hid in his hair. Yuma glanced at him briefly, his expression softening further before he looked back toward (Y/n). “That should be everything,” he said after the final paper was signed. (Y/n) handed the pen back, exhaling softly. “So that’s it?” “That’s it,” Yuma confirmed with a smile. Then his gaze shifted toward Yudai. “You can go home now.”

Home. The word hit him so hard he almost stopped breathing for a second. Home. Not another room. Not another cage. Not another temporary place where he waited to see what happened to him next. Home. Today. His first real home. Yudai stared at the papers in stunned silence, his thoughts suddenly too loud and too tangled to sort through properly. Then warmth touched his hand. He looked down instinctively. (Y/n)’s fingers had slipped gently around his. When he looked back up, she was smiling at him, warm and bright and real, her head tilting slightly as she spoke softly. “Let’s go home.”

Something in his chest cracked open completely after that. He couldn’t speak. Not because he didn’t want to. There were too many things trying to come out all at once. Relief. Disbelief. Happiness so overwhelming it almost hurt. Instead, he just squeezed her hand tightly. And followed her. Out the door of the room first. Then down the hallway he had slowly become familiar with over the past days. People smiled at them as they passed. A few staff members waved softly, some looking emotional themselves after hearing the news. Yudai barely noticed any of it. His attention kept drifting back to the hand holding his. To her. To the fact that she was still there. Still leading him forward instead of away.

By the time they stepped through the front doors of the shelter together, the sun had already started setting, warm golden light spilling across the streets outside. The fresh air hit him immediately. Yudai slowed without meaning to, his eyes lifting upward toward the sky. The sunset painted everything in shades of orange and gold, the light catching against windows and cars and people passing by. For a moment, he just stood there breathing it in. No handlers. No locked doors. No eyes constantly watching him. No shackles holding him back anymore. Only the warm pressure of (Y/n)’s hand in his. Freedom. Real freedom. The realization washed over him so suddenly it almost made his knees weak. His chest rose with a shaky breath as his eyes stayed fixed on the sky above him. And for the first time in his life, Yudai truly felt free.

They walked back to (Y/n)’s apartment together, their hands brushing occasionally as they moved through the evening streets. The city around them buzzed softly with life, people passing by without a second glance, completely unaware that Yudai felt like his entire world had just changed. He stayed close to her the entire walk. Quiet. Not withdrawn, just overwhelmed in a way words couldn’t quite reach yet. (Y/n) noticed, but she didn’t pressure him to speak. Every now and then she glanced over at him, offering a small smile whenever their eyes met, and every single time he looked back at her like he still couldn’t fully believe she was real.

By the time they reached her apartment complex, the sun had dipped lower, warm light fading slowly into evening. (Y/n) pulled the front door open for him, gesturing inside. “Okay,” she said lightly, trying to ease some of the intensity hanging around him. “First things first.” Yudai blinked, following her inside. The lobby was clean and modern, warm lighting reflecting softly off polished floors. A few residents passed through here and there, though none paid them much attention. Instead of heading straight for the elevators, (Y/n) guided him further down the hall. “There’s something I want to show you first.”

Yudai followed quietly beside her until she stopped in front of a large set of glass doors. Inside was a gym. Not huge, but more than enough. Treadmills lined one wall, weights and machines spread neatly throughout the room, a smaller open area toward the back with mats and space to move freely. Yudai’s ears twitched immediately. (Y/n) noticed the subtle shift in his expression and smiled faintly. “Anyone who lives in the building has access to it,” she explained. “Even hybrids. So you can use it whenever you want.”

His gaze moved slowly across the room, taking everything in carefully. “You can run around in here,” she added. “Work out. Burn off some of that endless energy.” That finally earned the faintest hint of amusement from him. Yudai nodded slowly, his tail swaying once behind him as he continued looking through the glass. He still hadn’t really spoken since they left the shelter. Not because he was unhappy. If anything, it was the opposite. Everything still felt too big inside him. (Y/n) gently nudged his shoulder with hers. “C’mon. Let me show you the actual apartment too.” He followed her back toward the elevators after that, staying close again.

The elevator ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of movement as they ascended floor after floor. Yudai watched the numbers light up above the doors while (Y/n) leaned casually against the wall beside him, occasionally glancing over at him with quiet fondness. When the doors finally opened, she led him down the hallway before stopping in front of one of the apartments. “This is us,” she said softly. Us. Yudai’s chest tightened all over again. (Y/n) unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside first before turning back toward him. “Come in.” Yudai hesitated only briefly before crossing the threshold. The apartment was warm. That was the first thing he noticed.

Not physically, though it was that too. It just… felt warm. Comfortable in a way he didn’t have words for yet. (Y/n) slipped off her shoes near the door and glanced around almost sheepishly. “It’s not much right now,” she admitted. “I moved in pretty recently.” Yudai looked around quietly as she continued. The apartment wasn’t empty by any means, but it clearly wasn’t fully settled either. Some walls were still bare, certain shelves half filled, corners untouched like she simply hadn’t had time to think about them yet. “Okay, technically it’s been six months,” she corrected herself with a small laugh. “But I’ve been consumed with work for more than half that time.” Yudai finally spoke then, his voice soft after so much silence. “It’s perfect.” (Y/n) looked back at him, surprised. Yudai’s eyes settled on her, steady and sincere. “Because you’re here.”

The words hit her immediately. Warmth spread across her face before she could stop it, a helpless smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head lightly. “You really know how to say things that make it impossible not to like you.” Yudai’s ears twitched faintly, pleased by her reaction. Still smiling, (Y/n) gestured further inside. “Even so, we should decorate a bit more,” she said. “Especially your room.” She glanced down the hallway toward the spare room. “It’s extremely plain right now.” Yudai looked in that direction too, but honestly, he didn’t care if the room had nothing in it at all. Not when he was here. Not when this place already felt more like home than anywhere he had ever been before.

(Y/n) showed him around the apartment slowly after that, giving him time to take everything in instead of rushing from room to room. “It’s not huge,” she admitted as they walked further inside, “but it’s enough for two people.” Yudai followed close beside her, his gaze moving carefully over everything she pointed out. The kitchen came first. It was simple but warm, soft lighting beneath the cabinets casting a cozy glow across the counters. A few mugs sat near the sink, one noticeably chipped near the handle. The fridge had barely anything on it besides a couple magnets and a sticky note she had probably forgotten weeks ago.

(Y/n) noticed him looking. “I’m warning you now, I survive mostly on coffee and takeout when I’m working.” That finally earned a quiet laugh from him, soft and breathy, but real. Then she showed him the bathroom, apologizing immediately for the products cluttering half the counter. Yudai just nodded quietly, still absorbing everything around him with wide, attentive eyes. The living room came next. A couch sat facing the television, a blanket carelessly draped over one side from where she had probably fallen asleep there at some point. A bookshelf stood near the wall, half filled with files, books, and random things that clearly hadn’t found proper places yet.

“It still kind of looks temporary,” (Y/n) admitted, rubbing the back of her neck lightly. “I kept meaning to settle in properly, but…” “Work,” Yudai finished softly. “Yeah.” Then she showed him her room. It was the most personal space in the apartment by far. Clothes tossed over a chair, books stacked unevenly on the nightstand, a jacket hanging near the closet door. It looked lived in. Comfortable. Yudai lingered there for a second longer than the other rooms. Not because of the room itself. But because it was hers. Then finally, (Y/n) led him down the hallway toward the last door. “And this,” she said softly, resting her hand on the handle, “is your room.” She opened the door.

Yudai stopped immediately. Completely still. To (Y/n), the room wasn’t anything special. A bed neatly made with fresh sheets. A desk beneath the window. A closet against the wall. Plain walls that still needed decoration. Empty shelves waiting to be filled. Simple. But when she looked at Yudai, she realized he was seeing something entirely different. His breath caught softly. His eyes moved slowly across the room like he couldn’t take it in fast enough. A real bed. One that belonged to him. A desk where he could leave things without someone taking them away. A closet for clothes that would actually be his. Places to exist. Places to belong.

And the window… His gaze settled there longest. Large enough to let the fading evening light spill inside, overlooking the city beyond. Cars moving below, lights glowing warmly against the darkening streets, people continuing on with their lives. A world outside. One he was finally part of now. (Y/n) looked at him quietly, her expression softening more with every second. His ears twitched faintly in his fluffy hair, little uneven movements like he was trying to process too many emotions at once. His tail swayed slowly behind him at first. Then faster. And faster. The movement gradually picking up speed until it became impossible to miss how happy he was trying and failing to contain. (Y/n) felt warmth bloom in her chest at the sight.

Then suddenly Yudai turned toward her, a bright smile finally breaking fully across his face, unrestrained and overwhelming in the best way. Before she could say anything, he crossed the room quickly and wrapped his arms around her again. (Y/n) laughed softly as she hugged him back immediately, her arms settling around him without hesitation now, like it was already becoming natural. Yudai held onto her tightly, his tail practically wagging behind him now. And for the first time since bringing him here, she felt the last of her doubts disappear completely. This was right. She knew it now. Her hand slid gently into his hair for a second, fingers brushing softly near one twitching ear as she smiled against him. “Welcome home,” she whispered.