in your orbit.

Are we still partners?

This is the first time we've ever sat together.

Partners shouldn't get emotionally involved with each other.

My job is simple, I visit friends now and again.

I don't know any of these people, they don't interest me either.

One's profession is very often determined by one's personality.

I'm a lazy person, I like others to arrange things for me, that's why I need a partner.

Everyone has a past, even an assassin once had classmates at junior high.

TIME is doing an interview with me in the next few days.

Look, for old time's sake, I'll do things for you.

Would an insurance company underwrite a professional killer?

I always wanted to go to a wedding reception, but I know it's not my scene.

Shifting through a man's rubbish can make you find clues about their background.

There are some people you can never get close to.

I'm someone who plays things by the rules.

Keep out of sight, the cops are still outside.

Sometimes, strangers can become friends or confidants

I was very talkative when I was small.

One can't afford to be selfish.

I don't make a fortune, but I am happy.

I don't accept freebies from strangers, people will talk.

Listen, I know I'm difficult but I know some who aren't.

The fact that we're both quiet and subtle, probably explains the close bond between us.

What price a human life? Depends on your luck.

So, to make a living, I'll occasionally invest in other businesses.

I hate digging bullets out of my body.

Being partners, you get to understand each other. Almost able to read each other's minds.

I'd often leave some clues, to trace my actions or my whereabouts.

[He/She/They] have become part of my life, but nothing can remain the same forever.

We were together for some time. Let bygones be bygones.

I'll marry you, but I'll need some time.

I need a shoulder to cry on. The night is full of weirdos.

I wish I could tell [him/her/them] you can't slove problems over the phone.

I keep my thoughts to myself, but somehow [he/she/they] appears, as if they could read my mind.

Most folk experience first love in their teens, I was a bit older. Maybe I am too choosy.

They say love can change a person, I find myself become more kinder.

There is no miracles in this world.

Guess why I was yelling, waving and acting crazy earlier? So [he/she/they] could see me on TV.

Time will tell, I suppose. Perhaps I'm being a bit too optimistic.

They say ' love hurts, ' but it's different with me.. Something strange happens to me.

When you live out of a suitcase, you don't need a place of your own.

I'd stay away from the bar from some time. I couldn't bear hearing that song.

Working with someone for a long time, we're bound to be influenced in some way.

I think the perfume was a bit overpowering.

You may forget my face, but you won't forget my bite.

I hope [he/she/they] soon reaches the destination & find their soulmate for life.

Do me one last favour, will you?

The best thing about my job, I don't have to make decisions.

Being photographed will shorten your life, they say.

Trust me, you have my word, we are life family, right?

Can I have some small change, please?

Sometimes I run into old acquaintances, some haven't changed at all.

I'm glad to see them, even though they may not remember me.

I ran to my first love again, I don't think they recognise me.

I firmly believe that one mustn't get emotionally involved with their business partner.

I knew we'd never be friends or confidants, we'd let too many chances pass us by.

( ... ) then she asks the million-dollar question and his chest tightens, throat seizing, as he peers at her— searching, sliding the pieces around until they fit, solving the sudoku that is hirai momo. "don't apologize," he whispers, tone catching on an accidental whine. how many times have i told you not to... "scare me? i..." the moon calls to him from just outside her window and his gaze slides to it, magnetic and hypnotized by its allure, brows now visibly pinching together as the tetris of his mind continues to play its morbid game. "just a bit, momorin," he admits truthfully, voice raw with emotion. "you... aren't looking at me either. would it be wrong for me to be scared— even a little?"

‘i know. thank you for being here. and sor—’

she pauses. sheepish grin, albeit a weak one. no point apologising, she doesn’t think he’d allow for it. not again.

but momo hears the sharp catch in his voice and the way he carefully shifts the weight of his question like it’s a fragile thing. and then he points it out. she’d been avoiding looking at him.

had she really...?

god, she had.  

it hadn’t even dawned on her that she had been. she’d just been so caught up in it all. in her fears. in that corner of the room.

she’s not sure why it twists her stomach like that, but it does. not because she wants him to worry (she despised making anyone worry), but because she hates how easily people get tangled up in her chaos without her asking for it.

she exhales, slow and measured, the kind of breath that means okay, i’m awake, i’m paying attention, i’m back in business.

‘i really didn’t mean to freak you out so bad. i didn’t mean to not look at you either, i swear. it’s just…’

finally, she looks at him. a quick glance, enough to check the state of his expression without giving anything away. her eyes skim over him like she’s assessing the room, not the man.

the light catches on the half-open door across the room. that damn door. the one with the creak and the shadow in the corner that makes her skin crawl every time she sees it.

‘can you… just shut it all the way? do you mind?’ she pleads, voice dry. ‘or open it. i hate it half-open like that. it’s creepy.’

and with that aired out, her posture slumps as she heads back toward the couch, each step deliberate and steady, like she’s shaking off some invisible weight.

she drops onto the cushions with a tired grunt and pulls the blanket back over her legs. her bare feet stretch out, tapping against the floor.

‘we’re watching something dumb now.’ she declares, tone final. no room for negotiation. ‘are you down?’

she grabs the remote and flicks through the options, not really looking at the screen. her eyes are half-lidded, scanning for anything that promises zero emotional investment.

‘maybe a comedy,’ she murmurs. ‘maybe a bit of cartman. have you seen any of the southpark specials?’

a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, just enough to show she’s amused at the idea of such lowbrow entertainment. a guilty pleasure of hers. and maybe that’ll ease her enough to fall asleep for real.

‘maybe scary movie? you know, the one where the guy sticks his hand in the mash?” she asks, voice low but teasing, pushing it (she knows) just a little. scary movie? even though it was far from a horror, it still existed in that realm being a parody and all. ‘might put that on.’

she doesn’t wait for an answer, but she does look over briefly, eyes sharp despite their hollowness. ‘unless you’ve got a better idea?’

there’s an unspoken challenge there. she’s trying to get back to her usual ways. difficult for the fun of it. playful. and yet…

‘and nope,’ she interrupts before he even has a chance, waving a hand dismissively. ‘today is not the day for one of those movies that make you think too much.’

her gaze flicks back to the TV as she scrolls through more options, but there’s a flicker of something behind her eyes — frustration, maybe. she hates this whole dance. the quiet worry he wears, the careful way he watches her like she’s fragile.

she hates feeling watched. and yet, she knows if the tables were turned she would react in the exact same way. with worry, with concern.

for this, she cannot fault him. only herself.

‘look,’ she says finally, voice softer but still clipped, ‘i know i made you worry. i overreacted to … a bad dream.’

a pause, long enough for her to settle the words in the air before she adds, ‘but i promise you i’m fine now. not… perfect, but fine.’

she lets the words hang, no need to explain further. fingers rub the tip of her nose, concealing her lower face. she gazes at him, then to the illuminated screen: a silent invitation for him to shift his focus on her distraction.

the TV hums as the streaming app loads a movie. the first scene flickers on, bright and ridiculous: someone slipping on ice, loud slapstick noise and over-the-top screams.

she glances sideways, and this time, holds his gaze a bit longer. not soft, not wounded, just clear.

‘close the door near that corner, please? ’she says again, a little firmer this time, sinking deeper into the couch. the absurd comedy unfolds, its silly sounds filling the room like a shield.

maybe she’ll manage to sleep tonight. and maybe she’s managed to ease his concerns, too.

here is where minghao's expression pinches, his brows furrowing and arms slowly crossing across his chest— closed off, just a bit, but now reclining against the window as he stares at her ramble, her gaze on the television despite her words directing themselves towards him. he doesn't get a chance to offer up his own opinion on the matter of which show or movie to watch, of which brainless matter they should consume in order to forget the sequence of events that had just occured.

his mind responds, though. cartman? it laughs noiselessly, it reverberating in his mind. i haven't even seen a single south park episode. then she talks about a horror movie, and he quirks a brow— the gesture subtle yet loud. what is she trying to do?

as though sliced in half with an chilled blade, his mind silences at her glance; a brief thing and yet— his posture rises from where he had been slumping against the window and something in him eases, softens like melted butter. the stiffness in his face melts away to make room for a visceral concern, arms uncrossing to loosely hang in a defeated manner. she no longer wishes to stay in this space, the one where she's desperately trying to escape from.

introspectively, he peers at the screen and watches as channels flicker here and there, the television yearning to be watched and for brainless media to be consumed by their sleep-addled brains. when it flickers to something stable, a ridiculous scene unfolding before him, she asks him to close the door this time. she wants it completely closed now.

the puzzle, for the time being, sheaths itself into the box it had spilled out from. the tetris blocks have found their slots and have calmed the hurricane of his mind. the night, now, has become a bit kinder— its darkness a comfort rather than a fear.

minghao feels the shift in the air between them, albeit not entirely convinced that she's okay. however, he knows when to surrender when it comes to momo and he knows when to not. mentally, as he knows she'll understand, he raises his white flag.

with a grunt, he pulls himself up and off the window, then crosses the threshold to close the door completely— it creaks as it swings shut with a finality in its click. afterwards, he turns his back to the door and makes his way to the couch, too, deciding to sit beside her. his legs curl under his weight, criss-crossing, as his head tilts back to lean against the back of the couch.

reverse it, switch it up a bit, do whatever you want!

[ 01 ] sender discovers receiver trying to take care of their own wound very badly.

[ 02 ] sender discovers receiver trying to see something on their body with the aid of a hand mirror.

[ 03 ] sender discovers receiver attempting an ineffective 'home cure' for their illness.

[ 04 ] sender discovers receiver trying to style their hair but failing.

[ 05 ] sender discovers receiver precariously carrying way too much.

[ 06 ] sender discovers receiver doing home improvement incorrectly / dangerously.

[ 07 ] sender discovers receiver sitting outside after getting locked out.

[ 08 ] sender discovers receiver sitting on the ground trying to attract a street cat.

[ 09 ] sender discovers receiver looking at rings in a jewelry store.

[ 10 ] sender discovers receiver crying alone.

[ 11 ] sender discovers receiver dancing in their underwear.

[ 12 ] sender discovers receiver throwing something across the room.

[ 13 ] sender discovers receiver eating the sender's leftovers.

[ 14 ] sender discovers receiver writing / drawing in their journal.

[ 15 ] sender discovers receiver building a pillow fort.

[ 16 ] sender discovers receiver fast asleep in a weird spot.

[ 17 ] sender discovers receiver yelling at the television / a video game.

[ 18 ] sender discovers receiver terrified of a small bug.

[ 19 ] sender discovers receiver baking / cooking in a messy kitchen.

[ 20 ] sender discovers receiver trying to move something way too heavy.

[ 21 ] sender discovers receiver on the floor after they fell.

[ 22 ] sender discovers receiver drinking their fifth cup of coffee of the day.

[ 23 ] sender discovers receiver curled up on the bathroom floor after being sick.

[ 24 ] sender discovers receiver playing with fire, literally.

[ 25 ] sender discovers receiver snooping around where they shouldn't be.

[ 26 ] sender discovers receiver wrapping a present for sender.

[ 27 ] sender discovers receiver rearranging the room yet again.

[ 28 ] sender discovers receiver watching the latest episode without sender.

[ 29 ] sender discovers receiver with their head in the freezer trying to cool off.

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel if we were villains by m.l. rio. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

why are you here? you should know by now i’m not going to tell you anything.

seems safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

it must eat you alive, not knowing. not knowing who, not knowing how, not knowing why.

you’ve kept your secrets all this time. it would drive anyone else crazy. why do it?

want to come out for a smoke? might help you relax.

your time will come to be the tragic hero.

let’s go skinny-dipping! i haven’t been swimming all summer.

seems like just yesterday my dad was shouting at me for throwing my life away.

you can’t do good work if you’re hiding, so we’re going to get all of the ugliness out in the open.

if you haven’t made any enemies in life, you’ve been living too safely.

you make a surprisingly convincing villain.

i know what you’re doing. you’re baiting me.

i don’t know about you, but i want to get cleaned up and go to bed and pretend this didn’t happen for like at least eight hours.

i think we were all fucked up from the start.

you promised me you wouldn’t say a word, so don’t.

i’m sorry, what the fuck just happened?

you know, people aren’t going to put up with your bullshit for much longer.

you’re probably the only person he’d listen to.

where’ve you been all night?

i was making the rounds for a while, but i got overwhelmed and snuck upstairs to do some reading.

i’m done with this fucking party, with all of them down there. what do you want?

why don’t you just tell me what happened? no performance. no poetics.

we can’t just stand around arguing about how it happened, we have to do something.

look, i know you have a pathological need to play the hero, but right now you need to stop and ask yourself if that’s really what’s best for everyone.

someone’s dead and you don’t know where you were?

before last night, everything was fine.

i care about you, and what might happen if you carry on like this.

he wasn’t an easy person to like, but he was an easy person to love.

what do you do? ignore your grief, or indulge in it?

maybe every day we let grief in, we’ll also let a little bit of it out, and eventually we’ll be able to breathe again.

i’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.

it doesn’t add up. we’re missing something.

you look like you might need someone to carry you.

i’m going to bed unless you’ve got something to say.

i’ve had enough of your sexual misadventures for one year, thanks.

it’s fucking freesing and i’m not leaving you out here alone.

when did we become such terrible people?

why don’t we get a drink or something? just us. i can’t think straight with everyone watching like we’re a reality show.

i just–maybe it’s because you’re you, and i mean, look at you–but i don’t understand. why me? i’m nobody.

you know, everyone calls you ‘nice,’ but that’s not the word. you’re good. you’re so good you have no idea how good you are.

we carry on as usual, or they’re going to want to ask all kinds of questions we don’t want to answer.

are you going to cold-shoulder me all night?

what’s gotten into you? you don’t sound like yourself.

you’re smarter than this. 

i’m not keeping any more secrets for you.

you can justify anything if you do it poetically enough.

you’re just going to leave me?

i think hell may have frozen over.

when you enter the theatre, there are three things you must leave at the door: dignity, modesty, and personal space.

anything can feel like punishment if you’re taught poorly.

you can’t quantify humanity. you can’t measure it–not the way you mean to. people are passionate and flawed and fallible. they make mistakes. their memories fade. their eyes deceive them.

i want so badly to be so mad at you that i could kill you, but i can’t, so i’m mad at myself instead. do you even understand how unfair that is?

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i want to hurt the whole world.

why don’t you sit, and i’ll pour tea?

he was my friend—much more than that, truthfully—and that was enough. i didn’t need to know why.

can i help? i still–i want to help.

let me put myself back together and then i’ll come find you.

it’s like i look at you and suddenly the sonnets make sense.

tell me you didn’t do it.

i never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.

we have to go back and act like nothing’s wrong. we’ve got to get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about it. all right?

you know, it’s not too late if there’s another version of the truth you want to tell me.

will you rest easier with one less mystery on your mind?

feel free to combine prompts! add ' reverse ' to switch roles! WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol

[ GLITTER ] for my muse to brush against yours & accidentally get bodyglitter on them

[ EARPLUGS ] for my muse to be obviously overwhelmed & yours offers them earplugs

[ HEADLINER ] for our muses to finally see the act they came for together

[ SUNBURN ] for my muse to apply aloe to your muse's sunburn

[ BACKSTAGE ] for my muse to ask yours to sneak in backstage with them

[ SHROOMS ] for  our  muses  to  take  something  together  &  ride  it  out

[ REFILL ] for my muse to run into yours at the drink stand

[ LOST ] for my muse to run into yours while lost

[ SELFIE ] for my muse to take a picture with yours

[ CRASH ] for my muse to invite yours to their tent, van, or hotel

[ BAND ] for my muse to be part of the band & meet yours after the show

[ VIP ] for my muse to invite yours to a vip event

[ AFTER PARTY ] for my muse to hang out with yours after the festivities have died down for the night

[ DOWNPOUR ] for our muses to get caught out together in a sudden downpour

[ NEON ] for my muse to draw something on your muse's body that can only be seen under a blacklight

[ BUZZED ] for my muse to tipsily ramble to yours while waiting for a show

[ SHIMMER ] for my muse to do your muse's makeup

[ SKIP ] for my muse to offer to skip the show with yours

majestic✨

            𝓘F  SOMEONE  WERE  TO  ASK  HOW  MINGHAO       and  Changmin  had  gotten  from  point  a  to  point   …   whatever  the  fuck  they  were  on,  he  would  outwardly  say  that  he  had  no  clue.  Absolutely  none.  It  was,  genuinely,  the  truth  to  things   —   Minghao  had  initially  come  over  just  to  listen  to  music,  flip  through  his  ridiculously  extensive  record  collection  and  maybe  share  a  few  drinks.  A  single  glass  of  wine  each  had  turned  into  both  of  them  taste  testing  beer,  going  through  soju  and,  at  some  point,  migrating  to  his  private  media  room. 

            It  was  there  that  things  seemed  to  absolutely  barrel  out  of  control.  Changmin  had  started  on  what  the  other  Tohoshinki  member  lovingly  called    ‘  the  yap  ’     which  really  just  meant  he  started  prattling  on  about  the  ridiculous  wall  of  figures,  toy  cars,  and  lego  sets  he  had  covering  almost  every  available  wall  and  flat  surface.  At  this  point,  both  of  them  were  a  happy  buzzed   —   a  fuzziness  settling  behind  their  eyes  that  settled  their  inhibitions  quite  a  bit.  It  was  nice,  it  had  been  a  while  since  he  had  decided  to  drink  with  someone  that  wasn’t  Yunho  and,  as  much  as  he  loved  them,  they  really  couldn’t  hold  their  liquor  well. 

            At  some  point  both  of  them  had  sprawled  out  on  the  elder  idol’s  ridiculously  plush  couch,  a  random  DC  show  turned  on  for  background  noise  and  bodies  sinking  into  the  fabric.  Changmin  had  asked  at  some  point  about  what  it  was  like  working  in  such  a  huge  idol  group,  having  only  experienced  five  himself  when  they  were  all  still  together  before  eventually  becoming  just  two  :  Shim  Changmin  and  Jung  Yunho.  The  concept  of  a  huge  group  was  absolutely  foreign  to  him,  but  he  was  enjoying  hearing  all  of  the  different  stories  about  Seventeen.  Each  one  was  so  much  more  fascinating  than  the  last. 

            And  the  drinking  stories   …   ?  They  were  absolutely  out  of  this  world   —   every  time  that  Mingho  started  a  new  story  they  got  crazier  and  crazier.  It  was  clear  just  how  close  all  of  them  were  from  the  consistent  antics,  and  it  amused  Changmin  to  no  end.  The  other  was  currently  going  on  about  a  drinking  contest  that  they  had  gotten  into  when  they  all  still  lived  together,  prattling  on  about  some  sort  of  game  lost  and  Minghao’s  punishment  being  to  recite  the  Greek  alphabet  of  all  things.  It  had  Changmin  laughing  out  loud  as  he  refilled  both  of  their  glasses,  the  wine  they  had  initially  picked  out  completely  gone  and  now  being  replaced  with  Soju. 

            “  The  Greek  alphabet?!  That  sounds  a  little  bit  like  torture,  but  I  guess  if  you  were  in  a  punishment  round  for  whatever  game  you  were  playing  it  checks  out.  ”     He  replies  back  with  a  grin  as  he  fills  both  of  their  glasses  up  about  halfway  before  adding  ice  to  his  own  from  the  small  bowl  he  had  brought  in  full  of  it  from  the  kitchen.  Every  once  in  a  while  he  had  some  odd  drinking  habits,  and  iced  Soju  was  absolutely  one  of  them.  Sue  him  for  liking  some  of  his  alcohol  picks  chilled.    “  Did  you  actually  manage  to  get  through  any  of  it?  I  have  to  assume  you  did  this  from  looking  at  it  online,  unless  you  just  randomly  have  it  memorized.  ” 

"hyung," he drags out, syllables slurred with the lull of the alcohol, and then proceeds to take another sip as though the mere memory of the punishment were inflicting him negatively (it isn't and he's simply a secretive creature of intense dramatics). "yeah, fuck if i remember what the game was— but it was some punishment," he mumbles into his glass, tone whiny even as he nods his gratitude at the refilling of the soju, watching the ice with a slight morbid curiosity.

what a sight, in all honesty. minghao is known for being put-together— the member with the highest level of emotional intelligence, the one who will stay sober to drag the drunkards back home, and the one with the leashes tight around his knuckles. it's rare for him to let loose this much and, in all honesty, it had been a long time since he had last drank so much.

though if he attempts to remember the last time in his current state, he'd end up sinking into the plush couch and disappearing altogether. so, he decides to not do that. the pinch in his brow smooths out, his visage devoid of any wrinkles now, and he leans forward to clumsily place an ice cube in his glass too. with a pleased hum, he swirls the liquid in the glass, watching the ice dance around with each gentle movement— then, as though he were shot with a remembrance bullet, he sits up a little, continuing where had left off.

a sip, his words muffled as the soju coats his lips, chills his teeth, and makes his entire body shiver from the sudden wave of cold. "randomly memorized while drunk off my ass? nope, i needed to look it up on my phone." now, this memory flutters to the forefront of his mind and he ends up laughing at it, uncontrollable and infectious.

indeed, it had been when they still lived together— three floors, three dorms, and the guys were quite the clingy sort. even if a couple of members had differing schedules, it had felt as though they hadn't seen one another for a month or so. minghao can hardly remember the occasion, really, but he remembers them gathering on the wood flooring, a rug thrown on there to lessen the eventual pain to their rears. he remembers glasses being clinked, heads leaning on shoulders, the sticky sweetness of somaek, and the lingering taste of fried chicken in the air.

conversations traveled all around the world and lingered in places where home burned the brightest— they were young, it's to be remembered, and hadn't the best handle on sentimentalities just yet. they combatted it the only way they knew how, and that had been with some ridiculous drinking game.

"korean games of any sort were my ultimate weakness," minghao murmurs, as though entranced by the memory and the dc show running on the television in front of him. he inhales through his soju-coated teeth, tongue running across the front of them before taking another long sip. "so i lost, naturally, and the punishment was decided by joshua hyung."

there's a flatness to tone and face, the glassiness disappearing as his memories filter just the same way each scene animates into the next on the screen. his head tilts to the side, falling back on the plush edge of the couch, and he offers a loose grin. "joshua hyung was a menace back then, too. he pinned that on me, but i didn't feel like looking like an idiot and having that video of me used for blackmail so i just took a shot." minghao shrugs, not seeing it as anything different than the usual antics, and he wonders distantly, amidst the fuzz and the intoxication, if the elder has gone through anything like he has with his group back in the day.

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

( ... ) another beat of silence before he shifts to fully face her, long legs crossing as he sits openly, his gaze imploring and his smile so, so warm. "i thought, maybe... ah, maybe it would help if you heard that," he whispers, then it's clear that he's fallen into a bout of contemplation. he gets up, disappearing for a moment, and returns with a glass of water. "drink, noona. do you want to just sit here for a moment or go out for a walk? the night's young and the ocean's inviting. we can walk along the shoreline, if you want?"

momo didn’t speak, not right away.

somewhere within, there were words. but they had curled in on themselves, like overwatered petals. she sat there, statuesque, wilting away. not moving, not blinking. her limbs trembled faintly as a cold glass was pressed into her hands, the heaviness anchoring her in reality. condensation bled down her knuckles as she lifted it to her lips. she drank it all at once, a conspiracy of thirst and a desperate desire to grasp at herself.

still, it sat too heavy within her stomach, sloshing with every breath as if she had swallowed a small sea at storm, restless and wild.

there were more pressing things, however. like how she could feel his eyes on her, wary, unsure. she could hear the soft scrape of oversized jeans on the floor whenever he moved. she could smell the familiar but faint scent of his cologne. and most of all, she could feel his presence near her.

and yet, she didn’t look at him.

couldn’t, maybe. not yet.

the silence was thick, yet, unlike before, it was breathable. bearable. like she could wade out these waters without being dragged under.

‘sorry,’ she said, her voice barely there. a poor, fluttering thing.

for what exactly, she offers no further clarification. mainly because she, herself, is unsure of where to start. for the scream, perhaps. for the sheer foolishness of her reaction. for being someone who could be seen like that.

her hands continued to shake slightly as she set the empty glass down on the floor beside her. then, they clasped together in her lap in an earnest prayer, wishing herself a stillness that equates only to peace.

‘i think i’ve been… overdoing it,’ she mumbled, more to herself than anything else. ‘the late nights. all the weird shit. the horror movie marathons alone, scary stories to fall asleep to…’

her voice trailed off. she couldn’t finish the sentence because it felt like lying.

in truth, she hadn’t had much time to consume media in general. maybe a few weeks ago, sure. however, she was far from convinced that this was an explanation to her demeanour. after all, she was still grappling with the idea that she had even been asleep.

she stood, slow and careful, like someone recovering from fever, moving towards the window. her palms press against the glass. outside, the night was smudged in charcoal, scattered lights blurred at the edges, and a slip of moonlight not yet shrouded by clouds.

her reflection looked tired, waxy. was she haunted or haunting?

her breath left a patch of fog against the pane, and she wiped it away without thinking. the coolness soothed her further, but she was still not fully herself.

the seconds stretched like taffy: slow, sticky, impossible to break free from. ‘it’s stupid,’ she added, trying to close the wound she’d opened. ‘i’ll be fine tomorrow. i just need to get some proper sleep. promise.’

finally, she turns to him, flashing a weak attempt at a smile.

‘not sure a walk will do either of us any good, i might end up waking the whole country if my eyes start playing tricks on me again.’ the joke hung in the air like a three-day-old helium balloon, barely afloat. she tries to laugh, but can’t fully commit. a balled fist rubbed at one eye, somewhat of a deterrent in her mind, a way to chase away the tricks.

minghao, however, has been at the receiving end of her weak attempts at levity in even the most trying of times. this is just how she functions. anyone who knows her in any capacity should know this.

she watched him for a moment longer. or rather, watched around him, the outline of his shoulder, the shadow of his hand. her gaze never quite settled on his face.

then she turned back to the window.

her arms folded across her chest, a self-contained gesture. the kind meant to hold herself together, even if she no longer felt as though she was falling apart. it was a preventative measure, as is much when it comes to momo.

‘i don’t want you to think i’m—' she began, but the sentence crumpled under its own weight. she exhaled sharply through her nose. a humourless sound. ‘nevermind.’

it would have been a futile task to try and explain herself to him. from all she had gathered and gained in experience with the other, she knew it was not necessary to do so. he would ask the questions he wanted the answers to, but for the most part, he enjoyed the act of solving souls as if they were sudoku. almost methodical in the manner in which he unpicks people.

at least, that’s what she thinks.

regardless, momo was not under any delusions to know that her own fright had frightened him. and to keep her calm, to keep her grounded, he would tread carefully. and he would work overtime to show he understood her over explanation, even if it made little to no sense.

her reflection blinked back at her. hollowed-out eyes. the colour drained from her cheeks, like a photograph exposed to too much light.

and as much as she tried to ignore it, there it still was. that churning in her gut. not fear exactly. not anymore. more like a strange nausea, low but continuous. like she’d swallowed a piece of machinery that should have died by now, but still manages to keep going. a rusted thing, clicking and turning in her gut, out of sync with her jittering heartbeat.

eyes flutter shut. inhale. exhale.

then, her hand dropped from the window, arm heavy at her side.

she turned slowly and leaned back against the glass, head tilted until it touched the cold pane.

no more of this, she thinks.

‘i am really sorry.’ it’s sincere, though she attempts to sound lighter than before. she rubs her nose, her sheepish little habit, and although there’s a ghostling of a smile upon her lips, it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.

their souls, integrated with the ties of familiarity and shared secrets. they see one another with the naked truth displayed like scars on their backs— it was hard not to know.

engulfing blacks stare at her with a deep desire to know, to hear her story scrawl itself out in the space between their bodies— heaving with gentle, stilted breaths but very surely them. why isn't she... why can't she look at me? his mind travels countries, crosses oceans, skips through universes and dips in different galaxies to search for an answer but this is one he cannot find, much to his chagrin. he watches her quietly, watches the way she moves from where he's settled; a quiet analytical moment before his head tips down, tongue running along the backside of his teeth in thought.

it's true how he's able to pick souls apart, that he should only need a couple of days and heartfelt conversation to truly know the depths of a person or at least how far down their sensitivities lay; momo, however, had always been someone that he craved to understand. for as much as he prides himself on knowing her, he knows her depths lie even further down beneath his feet.

a soft sound clicks from his mouth, between the press of his teeth. does he believe her explanation? no, replies the ache in his chest. no, you do not believe her explanation. there is something more.

... why can't she look at me?

in a brief flash, he wonders if it's better for him to go— then he remember her scream. his body numbs with minute fear, panic, and he decides he shouldn't even think of offering that up.

"yeah?" he ends up replying, soft as a feather brushing the floor— a whisper, fragile. he doesn't look at her, not for a while, not while his thoughts are still tetris-ing and he knows she would be able to see it. he still looks at his socked feet, the fraying edges of his oversized jeans. "maybe you shouldn't be watching those things, staying up so late, and overdoing it so much... at least, not..." he leaves a certain word unsaid, hesitation palpable in his tone.

then, unable to take the silence and the hesitation any longer, he gets up. he strides to the window, too, his jeans scraping along the floor and the cologne drifting after him like a ghost. a haunting. his arms hang loosely beside him, hands sliding into his pockets with ease, and his eyes find her face in their reflections.

she looks tired, the moonshine highlighting the bags under her eyes and the pull of her lips— the way there's still an edge of that spooked deer-in-headlights look to her gaze even as she sighs, defeated almost, after her trailing and stilted string of words. "i don't," he responds immediately, just as sharp and hopelessly adamant. "and i don't think it's stupid, i don't think you should think it's stupid." his gaze watches her thoughtfully as she turns from the window and leans against it, taking her in with a slight pinch of his brow.

a puzzle he has not yet figured out, an enigma of a person, and yet...

"we don't have to walk then. we can stay here, talk until you find sleep coming to you, and..." he hesitates again, his gaze falling to the skyline of south korea, throat bobbing with the weight of his swallow. "and i'm here— for you. you know that."

then she asks the million-dollar question and his chest tightens, throat seizing, as he peers at her— searching, sliding the pieces around until they fit, solving the sudoku that is hirai momo. "don't apologize," he whispers, tone catching on an accidental whine. how many times have i told you not to... "scare me? i..." the moon calls to him from just outside her window and his gaze slides to it, magnetic and hypnotized by its allure, brows now visibly pinching together as the tetris of his mind continues to play its morbid game.

of all places, it was the company bathroom. a silence hung in the air, lingering awkwardly only because the older had walked in on soobin hunched over the counter with bloodshot eyes. this hadn't been the first time he'd found himself curled into his own body - a comical sight, really, if the circumstances had been different - breath labored and sweat dripping from the strands of hair that fell over his eyes. this was, however, the first time he'd ever gotten caught in the act. 

“ah… hyung,” he exhales a pathetic laugh, though there was nothing funny about the situation anyways. “i didn't think… i didn't expect- wow, sorry…,” he stutters his way through blurbs of words, even going so far as to offer the older a smile that clearly doesn't reach his eyes. like he was going to try and steer the conversation elsewhere, like he wasn't actively a mess in front of his hyung right now. 

it'd been a particularly bad day of practice, he'd made one too many mistakes he's normally quick to catch and perfect, gotten yelled at a couple times. but most importantly to him, felt like he was holding the team back. when it came to the other members, especially given his leader status, soobin felt an extra fifteen layers of pressure smushed on top of the already pre-existing pressure placed on him by the industry. so, there he'd been, camped out in the company bathroom and unraveling piece by piece. 

“hiding out here for a minute… yeah, that sounds nice," he eventually nods, backing away from the sink and patting his palms against the front of his sweats, a desperate attempt at seeming more put together than he actually was in the moment. “but aren't you busy? i don't want to hold you up, either…” he trails off, voice much softer than before, cheeks flushing a light shade of red, embarrassment from the other seeing him in such a state. 

“so uh… you come here often?” what the fuck was he saying? 

a soft sigh had escaped his lips as he turned and went up a floor to seek out a bathroom that he knew not many utilize— however, to his surprise, he had walked in on someone hunched over the counter.

lashes flutter as he blinks a couple of times, assessing the situation with rapid-fire observation, sliding inside of the bathroom and closing the door gently as his lips lift upwards in a gentle, warm smile. he recognizes this form and would recognize him anywhere— quite literally does he stick out like a sore thumb, with his height and his bunny-like smile and minghao, to no one's surprise, has managed to gain a soft spot for the other. "soobin-ah," he greets with a nod of his head, allowing him a moment to stumble through his clear embarrassment.

he feels almost bad for having walked in on this moment of distress and internal spiral, but perhaps his feet had led him here for a reason.

betwixt them, the air is twined with a warring feel of desiring normalcy and the fraying edges of pressure. minghao's smile doesn't waver, though the concern grows in his chest— instead, he makes for normalcy for soobin's sake and edges closer to the sink next to him, turning on the tap to splash cold water on his own visage. as he washes his face, allowing the water to rush into the sink and spiral into the drain, he finds himself laughing at the shaky concern.

it's only too bad, he muses, that i can read him like a book.

"you ask me if i'm busy," he murmurs as he pats his wet cheeks, shaking his head soon thereafter to rid his fringe of the moisture. a cheeky smile reveals itself the moment his head lifts, the same hand coming up to push his hair back. "and then you ask if i come... to the bathroom often?"

hilarity rises in his chest, unable to hide the laughter twinkling in his eyes and the way a laugh escapes his pressed lips, but he tilts his head to contemplate for a moment. "we got off from practice early, so not as busy as you may think."