☕️ 𓍯

A pele escorria, brilhando sob a baixa iluminação do local num viço sugestivo ao que você se esforçava para secá-la o mais rápido possível, pois ainda que a piscina fosse aquecida, era uma noite fria. Deu conta de se livrar da maior parte do líquido com certo pesar, teria nadado mais um pouquinho se não houvesse decidido que ignorou Jaehyun por tempo suficiente. E ele também já não poupava o próprio olhar descarado — esquecendo-se que, supostamente, deveria estar prestando atenção no vídeo que já se repetia pela quarta vez no celular.

O acordo feito precedente à viagem era de que deixariam as questões de vocês dois fora das malas, não trariam o affair junto nas férias. E não, não existia um jeito natural de fazer isso. O que sobrava para vocês era se ignorar o tempo inteiro, porém era nítido que o autocontrole ruía com o decorrer dos dias. Era engraçado, para dizer o mínimo. Foram tão teimosos na tentativa de não deixar que isso sequer tivesse início e agora tinham que lutar para evitar que acontecesse o tempo inteiro. Passar por cima do seu próprio orgulho já havia sido tarefa difícil; mas mais difícil ainda foi fazer Jaehyun engolir o dele — ou quase isso, afinal era você quem engolia o orgulho de Jaehyun quase toda noite desde que esse lance estranho começou.

Por vezes, considerava um tanto injusto. Se não dava certo com Jaehyun, também não era certo que transar com ele fosse tão gostoso. Todos os dias pensava em como tudo poderia ser diferente se ele fosse ruim de oral ou se tivesse um pau minúsculo, qualquer coisa que fosse capaz de dar jeito nesse seu amor de pica irritante. Se bem que talvez tenha sido erro seu antes de se envolver com ele, não leu nas entrelinhas do contrato de namoro que, em caso de término, pau de ex é algo que causa vício.

“Eu não preciso de babá, sabia?”, o comentário ácido estava guardado na sua cabeça faz um tempinho, desde que viu o homem se sentar ali.

“Alguém tem que te impedir de quase se afogar de novo.”, ele mostrou uma das covinhas num sorriso provocativo, tinha certo talento para rebater ironia com rapidez.

“Eu ‘tava em mar aberto daquela vez, me erra.”, lançou um olhar debochado, apertando o cabelo entre os dedos para se livrar do excesso de água nos fios. Passou a toalha pelo corpo uma última vez, jogando-a na espreguiçadeira ao lado da que ele estava deitado assim que achou ser suficiente. Cuidadosa, encarou a porta da varanda só para garantir antes de se sentar em cima das pernas de Jaehyun, confirmando uma última vez que não havia ninguém espiando. Um acordo silencioso havia sido feito com o grupo de amigos sem que uma única palavra precisasse ser dita: eles fingiam não saber que vocês dois ainda estavam transando e vocês dois fingiam não saber que eles sabiam.

A intimidade que nunca precisava ser forçada também tinha percentual de culpa na sua dificuldade em desistir de Jaehyun. Era estressante somente pensar em todo trabalho que daria conhecer alguém do zero novamente. Ter conversas rasas, ter que apresentar aos poucos seus gostos e desgostos, ter que ensinar a outro par de mãos como você gostava de ser tocada… tudo soava inconveniente demais. E a conveniência estava logo ali, disponível embaixo do seu corpo — nunca se recusava a estar.

“Sai do meu colo.”

Ou quase nunca.

“Me tira você.”, riu travessa, balançando a cabeça para fazer com que as gotículas de água restantes no seu cabelo acertassem a pele dele. Ele apertou o rosto numa expressão desconfortável, mas os dedos não se moveram um centímetro sequer. “Foi o que eu pensei.”, zombou da falta de atitude.

“Tá me molhando inteiro.”, ele passou uma das mãos pelos olhos, jogando o telefone na espreguiçadeira ao lado. O comentário gerou um pensamento sujo na sua cabeça, mas resolveu guardar para si mesma:

“Eu vou ficar calada, Jaehyun.”

Ele se levantou brevemente, inclinando o pescoço para conseguir puxar a toalha na qual apoiava a cabeça. Lançou-a por trás do seu corpo, ajustando-o para cobrir suas costas — te protegendo do frio. O gesto trouxe conforto, especialmente porque o calor corporal dele havia esquentado o tecido. Você se deitou no torso nu ansiando por ainda mais calor, as mãos envolvendo o pescoço do homem em busca do toque morno. Não surpreendeu quando o abraço apertado virou selinho e o selinho se perdeu num beijo carente.

“Vai parar de fingir que eu sou um desconhecido?”, ele murmurou contra os seus lábios.

“Se você souber se comportar…”, sussurrou de volta. Era impaciente demais, mal terminou de falar e já queria a boca dele na sua outra vez. E como se houvesse urgência em contrariar, as mãos grandes envolveram seus peitos num aperto ciumento — sempre ficava meio sentido quando era privado do seu corpo por muito tempo. O beijo babujado escapou dos seus lábios, Jaehyun mordiscava cada pedacinho de pele que surgia pela frente, só sossegando quando encontrou seu pescoço. Você nem por um segundo pensou em recusar ou estranhar a rapidez, esses poucos dias na “seca” foram suficientes para te fazer sentir falta de um carinho mais safado. O corpo ficando molinho ao sentir o hálito quente sendo soprado em cima de cada mordidinha dolorida.

Ele arrastou o tecido do biquíni para o lado, o bastante para fazer o biquinho do seu seio saltar para fora. A boca quente envolveu a pele antes mesmo que houvesse tempo para você se arrepiar, chupava devagarinho, aninhando o rosto contra o seu torso. Suas mãos envolveram o cabelo e o maxilar do homem, fazendo um cafuné suave para estimular que ele não parasse. Assistiu-o fechar os olhos, expondo a ponta da língua para brincar com o mamilo antes de voltar a abocanhá-lo.

Davam tudo de si para manter o que faziam debaixo dos panos, porém todos os pensamentos exibicionistas que consumiam sua cabeça quando estava com ele te faziam duvidar se a vontade de esconder era genuína. Era tentador pensar em expor, em mostrar para os amigos de Jaehyun que você ainda era a mulher que colocava ele ‘pra mamar todo dengoso — a imagem de masculinidade existente na cabeça deles provavelmente ficaria bem abalada. Imaginar o rumo dessa brincadeira era fácil demais, o desejo que castigava vocês dois era mais que óbvio, ainda que não houvesse tempo suficiente para dar conta dele.

Você deixou que um puxão de cabelo afastasse Jaehyun de você, fingindo-se de desentendida quando aproximou a boca do peitoral dele. Ironicamente, o homem sempre resmungava quando você brincava ali, só que você nunca dava muita importância — sabia que a resistência era só pirraça. Pretensiosa, acolheu um dos mamilos dele entre o biquinho que fazia. Mamou devagarinho, levantando o olhar para assistir às expressões dele. Jaehyun soltou um muxoxo que você já esperava, tanto que soube remediar na hora apertando o pau dele contra sua palma por cima dos tecidos.

Ele abriu as pernas, empurrando o quadril contra sua mão. A excitação não te admirou, sempre soube fazer Jaehyun ficar duro com facilidade. Afastou o toque numa provocação barata, correndo as pontas dos dedos em volta da ereção sem tocá-la outra vez. Brincou com a barra da peça, ameaçando puxar. Sentia tesão em assistir o olhar todo cheio de expectativa dele, o aperto na sua cintura se tornava dolorido aos pouquinhos — era engraçado notar a pressão crescendo. Selou o peitoral dele mais uma vez, descendo de forma vagarosa, lambendo em certos pontos.

Precisou encostar os pés no chão à medida em que descia, os olhos cravados em Jaehyun como uma felina faminta. Raspou os dentes no quadril dele, simulando uma mordidinha. Seu joguinho te levou até o limite da pele exposta, deixando um beijo molhado bem no comecinho da virilha. Os dedinhos se enroscaram nos passadores da bermuda que ele usava, puxou-a para baixo como se houvesse a intenção de o despir, mas tudo que fez foi largar a peça na parte mais baixa do quadril. Agora era possível ver ainda mais da trilha rala de pelinhos, que ficava um pouquinho mais cheia e espalhada ao chegar à barra da cueca.

O olhar correu para o rosto de Jaehyun por alguns segundos, ele te olhava intrigado, incerto dos seus próximos passos, afinal nem você sabe o que estava fazendo quando selou aquela área com apreço. Não sabia dizer o que havia ali que te deixava tão excitada, era um traço que te fazia entortar a boca em outros homens. Mas não em Jaehyun. Em Jaehyun era um tesão. Salivava só de ver os pelos aparadinhos, pois sabia bem ao quê eles levavam.

Colocou a linguinha para fora com timidez, correndo o músculo esponjoso pela parte inferior do abdômen dele. A sensação dos pelinhos arranhando te fez arrepiar um pouco, no entanto não foi ruim, só diferente. Resolveu ser mais atrevida, lambendo desde a pelve exposta até os gominhos que você tanto amava.

Sentiu a pele eriçar quando os dedos grossos agarraram os fios da sua nuca, o puxão numa força meio desmedida te guiou até o rosto dele outra vez. Você mordeu um sorriso no lábio inferior, era uma delícia ser subjugada assim — sem um pingo de força ou vontade de lutar contra. Jaehyun te fez engatinhar em cima do corpo dele, deixado sua orelha na altura perfeita para que pudesse sussurrar:

“Mama meu pau, vai. Para de fazer graça.”, o tom rouco beirava a súplica, mas o aperto firme no seu cabelo te dizia que aquilo estava quase deixando de ser um pedido.

“Você ‘tá maluco.”, fez-se de desentendida, amante fiel da dinâmica provocar e não fazer absolutamente nada depois.

“Tá todo mundo ocupado demais lá dentro.”, ele lambeu os lábios, o olhar desviando para sua boca por meio segundo. “Ninguém vai ver, amor.”, o apelo para o apelidinho carinhoso te fez querer rir — fazia parte da lista de coisas que vocês não podiam mais falar (“eu te amo” sendo a principal delas), Jaehyun deveria mesmo estar desesperado.

“Assim que eu encostar a boca aqui, alguém vai resolver jogar o Jungwoo na piscina por ter perdido no Mario Kart.”, aproveitou a posição para se encaixar no colo dele novamente, pertinho de onde ele precisava tanto de você.

“É tempo suficiente pra eu gozar.”

“Não vai dar certo.”, negou com a cabeça, apoiando as mãos nos ombros do homem como a mulher comportada que você era. “É um milagre que eles ainda não vieram atrapalhar.”

“A gente ainda não fez nada desde que veio pra cá.”, a chateação era nítida, como se ele não houvesse concordado abertamente que as coisas fossem assim durante a estadia inteira.

“A culpa não é minha, conversa com teus amigos.”, deu de ombros, era um tantinho melhor em fingir não se importar do que ele.

“Você é a amiga deles também. Conversa você.”, devolveu a responsabilidade.

“E o que você quer que eu fale?”, arqueou a sobrancelha em descrença, sorrindo de cantinho. “Ô gente, o Jaehyun quer me comer, tem como vocês nos deixarem a sós por meia horinha?”, tirou os olhos dele, encarando a varanda enquanto proferia tudo numa encenação questionável.

“Quase.”, te lançou um olhar claramente sem humor. “Fala que é você que tá querendo dar pra mim.”, encarou seu corpo de cima a baixo, um canalha completo. Seu silêncio aumentou o sorriso dele, se negasse ou concordasse, o resultado seria igual. “Que foi? Você não quer?”

“Tem câmera aqui também, sabia?”, resolveu ignorar a pergunta, olhando de canto para a parede como se lembrasse de algo.

“E quem garante que eles vão checar essa parte da filmagem?”, rebateu seu questionamento com mais um dele próprio. “Aposto que a gente não vai ser o primeiro casal a transar aqui.”, a intenção de amenizar a situação estava ali, entretanto teve efeito reverso. O termo escolhido causou estranhamento:

“Nós somos um casal?”

“Um homem e uma mulher é um casal.”, desconversou da forma mais descarada que conseguiu, dando de ombros como se o que tivesse dito fosse senso comum.

“A definição não funciona assim e você sabe o que eu quis dizer.”

“Se a dona da casa achar a gente fodendo na câmera de segurança ela com certeza vai achar que é um casal.”, fez pouco caso, ainda que fosse nítido que tentava fugir do deslize que cometeu. “Inimigo a gente não é.”

“Então você concorda que ela vai ver.”, enterrava Jaehyun um pouco mais a cada frase, lutando contra todos os demônios do mundo para reprimir o riso. Se estivesse sendo sincera, pouco se importava em ser vista — já havia fodido com ele em lugares muito menos apropriados —, mas gostava de fazer teatrinho.

“Coloca a toalha por cima.”, ele bufou baixinho, não é como se estivesse totalmente alheio às suas intenções. “Assim.”, ajustou o tecido, cobrindo parte do modo como você ainda seguia encaixada nele.

“E isso vai deixar menos óbvio?”

“Porra, hoje você tá chata…”, murmurou sem pensar, apertando os olhos numa expressão frustrada. O arrependimento bateu no segundo em que você ameaçou se levantar, as mãos de Jaehyun se fechando na sua cintura em tempo recorde.

“Me solta.”

“Foi sem querer.”, enlaçou suas costas com os antebraços num aperto firme, forçando o seu torso a se abaixar. “_____.”, quase ronronou seu nome naquele tom mansinho — o que só usava para te chantagear. “Sem drama, por favor.”

“Não é drama. Eu tô chata não, tô? Então deixa eu ir embora.”, reclamou, porém deixou de se esforçar para se afastar.

“Você sabe que não foi sério.”, selou seu cabelo, já que você se recusava a deixá-lo beijar seu rosto. “Amor, me desculpa…”, resmungou todo arrependido, fez sua pele arrepiar. “Cuida do seu homem.”, os lábios ainda colados no seu cabelo sussurraram em tom de súplica — você ainda se pegava surpreendida do quão longe Jaehyun conseguia ir só para transar. “Tô sentindo saudades.”

Gostasse ou não de admitir, o fato é que era fraca. Já havia declarado derrota para si mesma no segundo em que se sentou no colo de Jaehyun, estava ali para ceder.

“Mais um vacilo e você vai dormir de pau duro hoje.”, advertiu, estapeando a bochecha dele de leve antes de deixar um selinho na boca macia. Acolheu o lábio inferior do homem dentro da boca, deixando a saliva correr livre quando o beijo se tornou mais sujo — curtia muito escutar os estalinhos molhados. As mãos se tornaram inquietas outra vez e, quando foi capaz de notar, já brincava com a barra da bermuda, correndo as pontas dos dedos pelos pelinhos como se fosse hábito.

“Deixei crescer ‘pra você, sabia?”, ele confessou num sorriso, era conhecedor da sua obsessão estranha por aquilo.

“Ainda não entendi o porquê de ter raspado.”, você correu a língua pelo cantinho da boca dele ao fim da frase. Afastou um pouco o rosto para lançar uma pergunta desconfiada: “Queria comer quem?”

“Você, amor. Só você.”, sorriu canalha, mas você deixou passar — por mais estúpido que soasse, queria acreditar que era genuíno. O olhar desconfiado não sumiu ali, entretanto. Você lançou uma expressão arteira para ele e pôde ler nos olhos do homem o momento em que ele percebeu que dali coisa boa não sairia. “Só você…”, repetiu, a atenção se desprendendo do seu rosto para observar suas ações com certa descrença. Você já afastava a própria calcinha de ladinho, abrindo as dobrinhas da bucetinha para montar no abdômen dele. “Sério isso?”, torcia para que fosse só provocação, mas te conhecia o bastante para saber que você tinha total capacidade de deixar que a brincadeira ficasse só nisso.

“Sério isso.”, você replicou num tom irônico. “É gostoso…”, fechou os olhos, tombando a cabeça para o lado. Começou devagarinho, aproveitando–se da maneira como os os pelinhos curtos espalhados ali faziam uma fricção leve, mas o jeitinho como já se melava inteira estava acabando com a sua sensibilidade. Ajustava o quadril para encontrar a posição certinha quando sentiu as mãos de Jaehyun na sua bunda outra vez.

“Detesto essa porra de calcinha.”, o comentário escorria ciúmes, você conhecia de longe. Enrolou o elástico entre os dedos como se desdenhasse do tecido.

“É? O Woo reparou em você olhando ‘pra minha bunda o tempo todo.”, alfinetou com um sorriso de canto, se esfregando com mais firmeza ao perceber que a reação dele não foi muito boa.

“Se reparou é porque também ‘tava olhando. Te falei ‘pra colocar um short.”

“Você perdeu o direito de fingir que manda em mim faz um tempinho já…”, a fala perdeu força no final, a atenção desviando para o modo como se sentia. As pernas fraquejando, o corpo se arrepiando inteiro num tesãozinho gostoso...

Jaehyun sabia bem como brincar nesse momento, mesmo quando só estava sendo usado. Os dedos ora pressionando sua cintura, ora afastando o tecido da calcinha de ladinho quando ela voltava a cobrir seu grelinho — para que você conseguisse continuar rebolando sem empecilhos. Você estava fascinada em assistir o abdômen cada vez mais meladinho brilhando sob a baixa iluminação. Jaehyun também não conseguia desviar o olhar, respirando fundo e logo apertando os músculos embaixo de você, pois sabia muito bem que era mais gostoso roçar assim.

“Tá tão molhada, linda…”, murmurou em tom de elogio. “Esfregando essa bucetinha gostosa em mim… sacanagem, amor.”, o timbre grave reverberava direto na sua entradinha. Jaehyun conhecia bem. O rostinho frustrado de quem não está tendo o suficiente poderia ser notado por ele até de longe, dizia que você precisava de muito mais do que gostaria. Afinal, era um carinho frustrante, dava trabalho brincar com o seu pontinho daquele jeito — a intensidade do toque nunca era suficiente —, mas dava tanto tesão que não conseguia nem pensar em parar, roçando com mais força para remediar.

O homem não era estúpido, sabia que aquele era o momento de se aproveitar um pouquinho de você. Segurou a extensão do próprio pau pela base, guiando-se unicamente pelo tato para encaixá-lo na sua bunda, transformando o roçar gostosinho numa espanhola não muito convencional. Jaehyun era tão faminto quanto você, por isso não aguentou e logo se colocou para dentro do tecido fininho, as peles finalmente se tocando diretamente. Apertou a carne entre os dedos outra vez, estocando devagar contra o vãozinho quente. O buraquinho mais apertadinho pulsou sozinho — era difícil ignorar o carinho que recebia ali. Não havia certeza de quando, mas em algum momento você passou a negligenciar a própria vontade de se estimular, dando toda atenção ao modo como simulava reboladinhas cada vez mais sugestivas contra o caralho encaixadinho ali atrás.

Foda-se. Pouco se importava. Precisava transar de verdade nem que fosse só por uns minutinhos.

A mão trêmula tateou até conseguir encontrar a base da extensão e livrá-la do aperto da sua calcinha, segurando-a num ângulo desconfortável para encaixar a bucetinha ali. Forçou tudo para dentro, sentando devagarinho, você e Jaehyun grunhindo em uníssono. Foi tão gostoso sentir ele ali após tanto tempo que precisou de bons segundos para colocar sua cabeça no lugar.

Experimentou um rebolado lânguido, parando abruptamente ao sentir seu estômago revirar, o interior das coxas tremeu. Porra, não é possível que já tava ‘pra gozar. Tentou mais uma vez, só confirmando a suspeita de que era completamente fraca pro pau do “seu” homem. Jaehyun, se leu a situação da forma certa ou não, fez a coisa errada: roçou seu clitóris com o polegar, espalhando a lubrificação que restava ali.

“Não…”, cravou as unhas no pulso dele, empurrando a mão dali com muito esforço. “Eu vou gozar…”, reclamou baixinho, arrependia-se de ter se estimulado tanto antes de finalmente colocá-lo dentro de você, porque agora mal conseguia sentar nele sem sentir que ia se molhar inteira de tanto êxtase. “Jae… Jaehyun…”, choramingou. “Espera. Espera… Calma…”, pediu mansinha, tentando afastá-lo do seu corpo. Qualquer coisa era muita coisa, sentia-se superestimulada. Ele não desistiu, no entanto, gostava de te ver fraca, burrinha, totalmente sem controle das próprias reações. Chegou ainda mais pertinho, quase se sentando.

“Quer porra aqui dentro, amor?”, como se a voz sussurradinha já não fosse demais para a sua cabeça, ele forçou a palma da mão na parte inferior da sua barriga, tornando a pressão ainda mais forte. Você balançou a cabeça para concordar desesperada, afastando a mão dele outra vez. “Senta mais um pouquinho, senta. Vou te deixar cheinha.”, roçou o nariz na lateral do seu pescoço, largando um beijinho molhado ali. “Tá escorrendo no meu pau, amor. Você quer tanto…” ele morde devagarinho, prendendo a pele entre os dentes.

O aperto na sua bunda se firma, os dedos grossos agarrando os lados para te deixar bem abertinha. Jaehyun toma a iniciativa de fazer você se mover, usando o aperto para forçar um vai-e-vem vagaroso em cima do pau dele. A entradinha tentava se fechar a cada movimento e a sensibilidade fazia uma dorzinha gostosa pulsar no meio do estômago.

“Sobe comigo ‘pro quarto?”, a proposta soou nos seus ouvidos ao que ainda tentava adiar o próprio orgasmo, mas ainda assim conseguiu discernimento para lançar uma expressão desgostosa. “Todo mundo sabe, amor. Ninguém é idiota.”

“Vai ser constrangedor…”, mais gemeu que falou de fato.

“Constrangedor vai ser eu entrando de pau duro depois que a gente terminar aqui.”, resmungou. “Posso te colocar de quatro lá, amor. ‘Cê gosta tanto de dar ‘pra mim assim, não gosta?”, era pura provocação e, pior: do tipo que funcionava. Deixou um chorinho tão dengoso escapar que foi até humilhante. “Fica toda abertinha, falta chorar…”, envolvia a proposta num timbre doce, no jeitinho manso de falar que era tão… Jaehyun.

Você não conseguia mais.

Deixou de dar ouvidos ao homem, não era capaz de responder por si mesma estando tão cheia dele — provavelmente acabaria aceitando qualquer besteira que ele quisesse te propor pelo simples fato dele te fazer gozar gostoso. Respirou fundo quando finalmente se afastou, empurrando de volta na espreguiçadeira para que ele voltasse a se deitar.

Abriu os olhos por muito menos que um segundo, vendo a sombra de uma silhueta esguia deslizando pelas cortinas. Julgou ser Jungwoo ou ou Doyoung — os cortes de cabelo eram parecidos. Sua espinha gelou em adrenalina quando a sombra pareceu pairar muito sobre a porta encoberta pela cortina. Tremeu, a cinturinha desesperando-se com o pensamento de ter mais um orgasmo com Jaehyun arruinado. Um arrepio esquisito correu pela suas costas quando a porta se abriu aos pouquinhos, revelando um Jungwoo curioso — que ajustou a visão até ser capaz de enxergar você.

Contrário ao que achou que faria, não se sentiu minimamente compelida a se esconder ou mesmo interromper o que fazia. Talvez pudesse culpar a vontade tão teimosa de gozar ou o ruído no seu ouvido que mais soava com a sua consciência suja te pedindo para deixar que o homem visse você usando Jaehyun sem pudor algum. Jungwoo hesitou por meio segundo, quase se virando para entrar novamente, mas o modo como você sorriu toda sapeca ‘pra ele soou como um pedido para que ficasse ali.

Você passou a sentar mais forte, desfazendo de vez o nó do biquíni para deixar seus peitinhos pularem sem empecilho algum — como um prêmio pro seu espectador. Apoiou as mãos nas próprias coxas para erguer mais o torso, olhando para baixo de relance só para constatar que Jaehyun ainda estava burro demais com o próprio prazer para ser capaz de abrir os próprios olhos.

Mordeu a boquinha, apertando as sobrancelhas ao notar Jungwoo ajustando o próprio pau dentro da bermuda que usava. A carinha que ele fez quando apertou de levinho te fez ficar tão desconcertada que precisou sentar com mais força em Jaehyun, a mãozinha trêmula correndo pro grelinho sem que você pudesse pensar. Se masturbou toda desesperadinha porque sabia que já gozava, só não tinha certeza se tentava remediar ou piorar a queimação gostosa no seu estômago.

O chorinho sensível escapou da boquinha sem que você conseguisse evitar, forçando os olhos a ficarem abertos, fixados em Jungwoo, enquanto molhava o pau de Jaehyun inteirinho. Aguentou quase nada, revirando os olhinhos quando o buraquinho arruinado se apertou ‘pra esguichar mais um pouco do melzinho para fora — ficando molinha demais até para continuar sentando. Jaehyun, que já era muito bem habituado a lidar com você, tomou as rédeas rapidinho, usando o aperto na sua bunda ‘pra foder a bucetinha por conta própria.

Não demorou para que Doyoung também colocasse a cabeça para fora da porta, provavelmente estranhando o fato de Jungwoo sequer se mexer. Você ainda estava meio grogue quando precisou morder o lábio para conter o riso assim que ele também ficou de olhos arregalados ao notar o que acontecia, puxando o homem mais novo pelo braço antes de fechar a porta num baque surdo.

A expressão estúpida parecia ter triplicado quando voltou a encarar Jaehyun. Se contraiu inteira sob o olhar desconfiado do homem, o bastante para fazê-lo perder o restinho do autocontrole, apertando suas coxas todo afoito ao que estocava para cima. Socou gostosinho sem encontrar nenhuma resistência no caminho, pois mesmo sensível você ainda era faminta por ele — tinha aprendido a levar tudinho que ele quisesse te dar.

Você se abaixou, enfiando o rosto no pescoço masculino. Quase se babando e gemendo baixinho enquanto deixava ele meter rapidinho até esporrar. Só soube que o fim tinha chegado quando ele empurrou até a base, ficando parado para largar a porra quente bem no fundo da sua bucetinha.

Jaehyun mordeu o lábio dentro de um sorriso safado ao se retirar devagarinho, era completamente doente no jeito que você se apertava inteira — como se não quisesse deixar ele sair. Colocou sua calcinha no lugar com certo empenho, pois não queria deixar nada vazar para fora. Ele sentiu um suspiro mansinho no pescoço, já ensaiava qual desculpa precisaria dar para quando entrasse te carregando no colo — tinha plena noção que você entraria trocando as pernas se tentasse andar por conta própria e isso era muito pior de tentar explicar.

“Sabe, Jae…”, murmurou toda dengosa, ganhando um carinho no cabelo como se ele te incentivasse a falar. “Acho que não vai ser tão constrangedor assim…”

─── se você chegou até aqui, obrigada por ler! [🤍]

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: look at that, a yojeongin update !! I enjoyed writing this too much so I hope you guys like it. btw if you want to be tagged for part 2 just lmk or fill out the taglist form in my masterlist; btw im sorry its so long 😭 I try to shorten them but they each get increasingly longer; a playlist for this does exist so listen it please <3 spotify in my masterlist

Mark never expected his life to crumble at such an early age. It was all falling out of place so rapidly that he didn’t really know what to do. 

One second he was his college prodigy, opening exhibition after exhibition, and next he’s wheeling out suitcase after suitcase from this grimy taxi that he could barely afford last minute. The odor of rotting deli meats suffocating him the longer the car ride became.

Struggling to get them out of the car as the driver refused to even look his way, Mark cursed under his breath at how useless someone could be. But he bit his tongue as the words of his own father calling him such, rang through his ears. Perhaps he was right all along and his words were rather a prophecy than a silly scolding at the time. 

The pavement was littered with puddles of rain and the sky threatened to make more droplets fall so once all of his items were out of the car, Mark made his way towards the well kept building, reciprocating the neglect of the driver. As he drove off some puddle water splashed onto his shoes making the young man grunt in frustration. 

Life was only getting worse. 

The lobby was cold and brightly lit, almost too clean but he only dirtied it with his wet shoes dragging to the elevator. A trail of his mistakes following him around. He was freezing inside but with the note on the elevator doors reading that it was broken, Mark would surely warm up with his walk up all those stairs to the fifth floor carrying all his suitcases. 

After some inner complaining and cursing, Mark simply sighed, feeling his brain begin to swirl in frustration as he looked everywhere to find the staircase. The receptionist was of no help, slumped over the desk and intensely staring at the small television perched on the top counter, a drama in a language he couldn’t quite grasp, taking her entire attention. 

Tiresomely, Mark finally arrived to the fifth floor, pearls of sweat decorating his pretty face and the sound of labored panting slipping through his parted lips. He could barely open the door to the floor but he managed to do so even with all the luggage handles in one hand, threatening to slip and fall down the staircase. Almost like his life. 

Life was only playing joke after joke as the minute he managed to pull off the suitcases in front of him, the elevator dinged. Its doors opened widely, almost as if it was in a rush to kick out the couple that had disturbed its peaceful area. 

Their loud bantering could make anyone feel crazy and at this state right now, Mark was the most easily affected. 

“So now I’m crazy because I’m telling you that that bitch coworker of yours keeps flirting with you?” Your chuckle was anything but playful and joyous like he’d heard before. Trailing behind you, his best friend had nothing but a tired sunken look along with the anger that was bubbling up because of you alone. 

“You’re crazy in general, you don’t have to bring her up for me to know you are.” 

Mockery was delivered by the hazel haired boy that pulled at those same strands, feeling like he was pulling patches. His steps became harsher and louder to catch up to you. 

Despite his initial personal frustrations, Mark was at least glad you’d two helped to lighten his mood (argument or not). 

Just as vile spilled from his friend’s lips, your body swung, turning to your husband and taking his left arm onto one of your hands. Your grip tightening just by recalling his words. 

“Don’t fucking call me crazy,” your eyes projected the fiery pits of hell, your burning anger too obvious to try and hide. Boring holes into Haechan’s own eyes and speaking through gritted teeth hoping that he could feel a hot wrath. 

Just as he was to speak, continuing his hate filled words, your eyes averted, finally taking in the figure that stared at both of you dumbfoundedly. 

“Mark!” That seeping anger from just seconds ago had dissipated into thin air, almost as if it had never been there just from seeing an old friend. 

Letting go of your husband, you ran towards his best friend taking him by surprise with the force of your embrace against him. Mark only chuckled as he wrapped his own arms around your waist, pulling you in as tightly as you did him even if he felt gross from his work out up those stairs. 

“Stop hogging him.” Hyuck spoke poutingly, pulling at your arm to let go of his friend. Halfway off him, Hyuck took him into his own embrace, slightly uncomfortable as you refused to let go of the older male. 

“When did you get here?” Hyuck questions, taking some of the suitcases off of Mark’s hands despite his protesting. 

Shaking his head while thanking him, Mark felt your hand slightly squeeze his arm letting him know it was no problem. “Literally just got here actually.” He chuckled not before showing you a tender smile as a thank you. 

With the door finally unlocked, you pushed it widely to let him in. Mark was in awe with the way the apartment was decorated. He knew it was all your doing besides the desk in the corner of the living room that was hidden from view with the kitchen wall. That was surely Hyuck’s.

It was cozy and warm, just the way you always said you wanted your place to be and he was glad that you’d still held this up despite how things seemed to be looking. At least from the occasional letters you’d both write to him for updates.

In fact he still noticed that youthful joy and hope when he looked at you as of now. The pep in your step as you giggled towards the fridge and pulled out a beer for all of you. 

“To celebrate your new exhibition!” Naive too. 

Your smile was so wide and your eyes seemed to show how proud of him you were that he didn’t have in his heart to let you know that his life had gone downhill and his exhibition was a failure. 

You had approached him with a freezing cold bottle to the point your fingers felt numb but you graciously opened it with that silly shark bottle opener with googly eyes that bounced every time a bottle was successfully opened. 

He had given it to you once the three of you had gone to the local fair. A vendor had lent it to him to open a bottle of coke while the three of you had tacos for dinner,he ended up forgetting to give it back. 

Seeing as you had found it adorable on the ride back to his now old apartment, Mark told you to just keep it at that point. 

His eyes followed every movement of your hands, how you tried your best to move as quickly as you could when opening your own. How your hands wiped at the skirt of your dress to gain some warmth but you’d only clamp them together in pain trying to relieve some of it. 

Once you deemed them to be alright to manage, you rushed back to the kitchen followed by Donghyuck’s whining on to why you hadn’t opened his only to be received with a low and angered: “Open it yourself.” Obviously, you were still very much upset with him.   

Mark gave Hyuck a look, jokingly laughing at him for the favoritism displayed. His friend only shoved him playfully before taking the opener into his hands. 

“Sorry I wasn’t able to go to the opening. Hyuck worked until late and you know him, I can’t be out late without him. Right, dad?” You teased, turning to glare at your husband as you set down the bowl of seasoned peanuts for Mark to enjoy. Hyuck pretended to mimic you watching as you settled at Mark’s feet right across from him.

Mark continued his silent laughter, taking a chug from his drink while demonstrating the pain the coldness of it was causing in him. “It’s fine, you wouldn’t like it either way. At least others aren’t liking it.” 

Huge disappointment was laced with every word. The critics were getting to him and it was so evident in the way he spoke. With his words you looked at Hyuck questioning what was going on but he gave you no response. 

“What? Why? Your work is amazing.” You comforted him, giving his knee a slight squeeze that was only received with a smile. 

Shifting in his spot making sure to not give you a nudge or kick, he spoke, “It hasn’t really been the best days lately…” his sight shifted from you to his knees. “Some investments went horrible and the exhibition tanked. It’s doing really bad so yeah, everyone has their downfall and I guess this one’s mine.”

Even though he laughed to ease the tension, Mark felt it present in the room. Noting the pout on your face knowing you felt sorry for it, he gave a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah, so– yeah that’s why I’m really thankful you guys are letting me stay a while here, it means a lot.” Though you never minded if he stayed, you were still confused.

Your face a dead giveaway that was making the male panic slightly. “Stay? Hyuck didn’t say any—“

“Oh… oh shit, I can leave of course,” He rubbed a hand over his face, guilt and embarrassment embroidered in his words. “My bad I didn’t mean to just barge in.”

He chuckled nervously, shifting in a way to stand without disrupting you, yet you rushed to sit besides him, taking his arm into a tight hug while telling him not to.

“No! Oh my God. No!” Desperately you’d plead, Hyuck standing up himself to sit Mark back down, his words drowning in the ocean of your apologies. 

“Nah nah, it’s fine, dude.” He was obviously tired, his eyes trying their best to not shut while trying to calm down his friend. Though drowsy, neither you or Mark missed the harsh glare he threw your way. Almost trying his best to not scold you through gritted teeth.

“I'm sorry, Mark. Hyuck just didn't tell me at all. I would've had the guest room clear for you by now, it’s full of stuff even the bed is gross—“ You stopped to catch your breath, a sigh releasing instead whilst looking at him with pleading apologetic eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Mark. I’ll bring you some covers.” All you mustered was a nervous smile as you scurried off to the guest room for his sheets, leaving the two men alone.

Haechan leaned back on the molding couch, his legs spread enough for a person to sit between, and the perspiration of the bottle seeping through his slacks. The man was gone and tired but even then he tried his best to comfort his best friend. “I’m sorry about her—“ Mark tried cutting him off to no avail. 

“It is my fault I forgot to tell her, I mean you saw how we came home— It’s been rocky so having a normal conversation is so foreign to us now.” Neither expected him to just minimally vent about the marriage but he needed it out. Mark only nodded, uncomfortable and with no advice at hand. 

“But yeah, man— you know y/n loves you, she doesn’t mind you staying at all.” He finally cracked a smile or a laugh during this entire awkward conversation. Mark smiled in return, warm to how much love the two of you had for him.

“Thanks… It’ll be just for a bit, I promise.”

Hyuck shook his head, eyes fluttering from exhaustion. “Don’t worry about it, It’d actually be best if you just stay forever .” 

Mark’s laugh was louder and genuine this time, shaking his head in denial. As of that moment, you had emerged from the guest room.

Your presence alone was draining Hyuck. His laugh faltered and so did his smile, glowering as he sipped on his drink. 

But to Mark it only increased his giddiness, standing up to help you with his blankets and laughing even more when you pulled on your husband’s arm to get him off the larger couch and start arranging the sheets.

He didn’t wait until you finished, Donghyuck just sighed and looked at his surroundings before blurting out that he was heading to bed already in the process of pulling Mark in an embrace again.

You didn’t spare him a glance, smoothing up the cool fabric under your palm. The sound of it louder than the tapping of Haechan’s dress shoes on the cold tile.

Being left with you never felt like a drag, Mark always enjoyed his time with you so this didn’t feel much different when you began to speak. “I imagine you’re drained, huh?” You threw him a glance over your shoulder, shooing his hands away every time he tried to help you.

Mark just nodded, nervously smiling as he pulled his hands back, rubbing it the few times you swatted it. “I-I like the way you decorated the place by the way! Really screams ‘y/n’— it’s nice.” He stuttered, his nose scrunching in embarrassment.

“Thanks…” Your body faced him, words refusing to continue cascading whilst your eyes danced across his features. “It’s really the only thing I got going for myself as of now.” 

He felt his heart shatter the moment your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. Mark always knew you to be outspoken and firm on your desires. Before you married his best friend you were an art consultant. Hired by his company to find anything to decorate the dull walls of their building, there Donghyuck found himself drawn to you.

Every Friday he awaited impatiently, his knee bouncing just to see your beautiful smile cross the threshold of the company doors with paintings upon painting you had traveled countries to get just for his boss.

Hyuck always used the excuse that there were too many for you to have multiple trips up and down the elevator so he’d offer to help you carry them to his boss’ office.

You also looked forward to those Fridays. Back then Hyuck was loving and patient, he was playful and did anything to make you smile. Even the first times you rejected his proposals he’d come back with more potential that you ended up becoming his wife.

It’s not that you didn’t want to be with him but because of your job. You spent weeks or even months in different areas of the country or abroad so knowing this relationship would be long distance didn’t help.

By the time you had agreed, the company had terminated their business with you and you had gotten a job in the city to relax from the chaos traveling constantly would bring.

In Mark’s eyes you were always strong willed. When Haechan finally introduced you during one of Mark’s exhibitions, the older male was in awe to know Hyuck had found someone so perfect. 

At the time you matched his energy very well. The both of you were outgoing yet always stood your ground. If anyone, especially your now husband did anything you didn’t like— you’d call him out on it.

Hence Mark always felt like he was walking on eggshells until he learnt that he could do no wrong in your eyes because you saw yourself in him.

The both of you had the fine arts to bond about, he was easy to talk to, and he was always supportive of your hobbies as you were of his. Hell— you even invested in some of his pieces to show you’d be there for him.

Many would side eye the relationship you had with Mark but Hyuck understood how perfect the three of you were and if his best friend would do anything for his girl, then she was the one.

Mark didn’t know how or when it happened but all he knew as of now was that Haechan managed to make you docile in a way. But he also knew he did something to piss you immensely. 

Your coworkers, before he made you quit were lovely but he was convinced many of the men there had other plans for you despite many being in relationships or just nice people.

It didn’t help that his own coworkers were all venomous and envious snakes that fed him ideas. It was quite sad actually, how the people that saw that relationship bloom were the same ones trying to tear it down so here the both of you were, always seconds away from yanking at each other’s hair and clawing at their face.

It was disheartening to say the least. Everything was changing for the worse.

“Have a good night, Mark.” 

Cutting his thoughts off, you squeezed his shoulder, leaving him in the dim lighting of the lamp beside him. 

Not giving him the chance to reply, Mark nodded to himself with a tight lipped smile as he turned the lamp off. 

Loneliness swallowed him again, his eyes adjusting to the darkness but the city lights worked as a nightlight regardless. He wouldn’t admit it but he really needed both you and Hyuck with him in that instant.

His head hit the pillow, eyelids felt heavy, allowing him to drift off to a deep yet short slumber. Mark was tired, yes, but his mind, though in pain, still ran his thoughts through. Destroying any chances of rest. His slumber lasted merely half an hour until the bright fluorescent lights and honking of the city awoke him.

In addition the whispers emitting from the main room gripped his hearing forcefully, not letting him go until he heard every vile thing you and Hyuck told each other.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude—“

“Yeah, well you could’ve tried to sound better.” 

He heard the shuffling of bed sheets.

“You never told me he was staying, I could’ve cleared out the other room. Poor guy has to sleep on the stiff couch. I mean why the fuck do you need an extra room for? Your desk is in the living room and you don’t even use it.”

Exasperation was laced in your voice, he didn’t know how to entirely feel but that guilt of intruding your livelihood was horrible.

“Those postcards are collectibles, y/n. For all you know they could be worth more than this apartment in the future.”

Mark imagined you rolled your eyes before speaking. “They’re worth ten cents right now, how could they possibly be worth anything any time soon?” 

A pout emerged on his lips. He wondered if that’s what people thought about his work right now but you were once the art consultant so who else is better to know the worth of something? 

“Fuck, fine! Clean out the room but throw away some of your stuff you don’t need too.”

“Like what?”

He heard defiance.

“I don’t know, why don’t you start with all the paint you have? You don’t ever work on anything anymore, all you did was waste money on that stuff.”

Hyuck shifted in his spot, turning to your body now. “You haven’t finished that little ug— little painting you were working on.” He swallowed his remaining words.

You simply scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. “That little ugly painting you were gonna say?”

“No.” He answered untruthfully. 

“Right— I’m just going to go clean the room now.” 

You tried getting off the bed before feeling his grasp on your wrist, almost begging you for forgiveness but also with the grip of an angry possessive man.

“You’re going to wake him up.” He didn’t apologize, that only cemented your determination even more.

Yanking your wrist from his grasp without first feeling that burn, you scooted towards the edge putting your slippers on before walking towards the entrance, Donghyuck watching your every move.

Managing to open the door as quietly as you could, with a leg out already, you turned to your lover. “It’s a realistic portrait of you, just so you know.” He ignores your words but you can still notice his distaste in the way his eyes gloss over. That was enough of a reaction for you.

Finally shutting the door behind you, you lower your head slightly, tired of this constant cycle. You would’ve walked towards the spare room but in the instant you lifted your head you noticed the subtle rustling of Mark’s spiked hair scurrying to hide from your sight.

Tip-toeing towards the back of the couch, you lean over seeing his back turned to the cushions. Smiling to yourself as his lids twitched showing how bad of a liar he was; you giggled softly.

“I know you’re not asleep, nosey.” Your hand reached for his cheek, squeezing it softly. Mark couldn’t contain it anymore, he just smiled as his eyes fluttered open while apologizing.

“It’s cool, nothin’ new.” Climbing over the back of the couch, Mark made space for you to lay beside. “Did you, uh… Did you hear anything?” 

Settled by the edge of the couch, Mark wraps one of his arms around your shoulders hoping that’s enough to not make you fall.

“Not really.” His smile didn’t falter, not even when you gave him a stoic nod knowing he’s lying. 

“Can’t sleep?” 

“Lights are too bright.” 

They were hitting your face as you laid beside him. Silence settled between the both of you until you got closer to him. Laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his torso.

You didn’t really give him time to process what had gone on since you began talking, only giving him the option of holding you as well. “You know I don’t mind that you’ll stay here, right? I love it when you come around.” 

“I hope so.” He replied

You granted him laughter, “Stop, you know I do! You’ve always been so fun, Mark. Are you going to give me company these days?” 

‘You’re so fun, Mark.’ The words echoed in his mind as he tried to process what to say.

“Of course. While I look for a place and an actual job as my father would say.” Though Mark tried to play it off, it was obvious he was insanely hurt.

“Do you still paint?” You deflected, he nods and asks: “Do you?” You respond with a shake of your head and a tender smile.

“We should do something tomorrow then. Rest for tonight, alright?” He nods letting you know you should too, shifting in hopes to find an angle the city lights wouldn’t bother him.

All you managed to do was close the blinds and curtains once you stood, hoping that was enough for now. For now it seemed like it was, smiling as you walked over to him one last time. Crouching down to his level, Mark smiled seeing your face one last time tonight.

Before he could scold you to get some rest, he felt your lips on his cheek whispering a sweet ‘goodnight’ once again.

Mark couldn’t form any words, he was utterly shocked and slightly confused but it was also past 2AM and you were probably just tired and slightly tipsy so he tried to ignore it— it was an innocent remark, just that…

As the weeks progressed it seemed Mark could slightly see why you had kissed him goodnight that first day. 

The longer he stayed with you and Donghyuck he noticed how lonely you were. Hyuck spent most of his days in the office and when he arrived home it was already late so all he could do was shower and head straight to bed.

He’d greet Mark normally but when it came to you he could barely even look your way. If he came back tipsy after a meeting then he would kiss you as a greeting but other than that it was as if a corpse was walking amongst you.

On his days off, Hyuck would lounge on the couch while watching TV expecting you to cater to him but when it was obvious you’d continue to ignore his existence, he’d dress up and head back to the office.

Mark hated to admit it but he preferred when Haechan wasn’t home. It was a living hell when he was. You were always so lively when it was just you and him. If Hyuck came around your entire mood faltered and it was a struggle to bring it back.

He was glad that he had managed to get you to paint again. In this time together, Mark had helped you with detailing and different techniques. You had also found that oil pastel was a new medium you preferred. 

Mark could now see why having a roommate or a lover was sought out so much. You and him would spend your days at the downtown markets fishing for fresh produce for home made meals you two would plan or just simply finding an excuse to escape the confinement that apartment was for you.

Mark had also learnt how to better his cooking from you and how to properly take care of plants. That is because the both of you decided to buy one and help it grow— together . To be quite honest you always thought of plants as such a huge responsibility, you simply didn’t want to do it alone.

It was going great, at least for you two. The more time he spent there the less you cared about what Hyuck was doing without you. The less you cared about Donghyuck. 

But for now, those thoughts needed to disappear and you two had to think about him regardless. 

Despite the horrid summer heat in September, Mark put himself in the kitchen monitoring the stew as you got dressed up for tonight's event. Whining to himself about how hot it was getting in the kitchen. But this was you– and his best friend of course– so he didn’t want to complain.

“Do you want me to turn off the stove? I think it’s starting to dry up.” Mark called out, watching the red bubbles flow from one side to another, avoiding the pieces of pork and vegetables before they’d burst.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, hey— how does it look?” Mark turned with the sound of your voice, his eyes taking a while to process how beautiful you looked before him. To say he was speechless was an understatement. It felt as if the air in his entire body had been knocked out and his voice was robbed.

“Is it too much?” You asked nervously at his silence. Trying to aid that, he shook his head with a smile on his face, taking one of your hands into his to twirl you around. Though as innocent as it was, Mark couldn’t help his wandering eyes, admiring the beauty you always have been. 

He loved how the purple dress hugged your body and he loved how the lacing of your heels wrapped around your smoothen calves. They matched the nylor top coat of the dress, beaded flowers on both items.

He loved how your collarbones looked, shimmers from glittered lotion helping them. The straps tied around your neck making it a halter dress, and he loved how happy you looked.

Mark wasn’t fully sure what this brewing feeling was but he knew it wasn’t good. 

Hyuck wasn’t someone Mark ever found himself being jealous of, he was his best friend after all. Mark had only loved and supported his best friend but right now it was killing him. The feeling wasn’t strong enough but he knew it could grow quickly.

It was killing him to realize he and you have spent all day preparing for tonight. Cooking Hyuck’s favorite meal and dessert, cleaning every nook and cranny of the apartment, and even buying postcards for his collection despite how you felt about it.

Even when Donghyuck has been nothing but a dipshit to you this entire time Mark’s stayed with you two; you went out of your way to make this anniversary a good one.

To be exact, Mark was jealous of Hyuck for having someone who loved him despite all he’s put you through.

“You look ravishing.” Mark let out in a breath, your concern turning into a grand smile and thanking him with a hug. 

Turing to grab the pot of stew, Mark placed it on the decorated dinner table as you followed with glasses and wine. 

“Okay, got everything?” He questioned one last time after wiping his hands on his jeans, making his way to the entrance door.

Looking around, you nodded as a response. Turning to the clock on the microwave, Mark grabbed his jacket, getting the clue. “Alright then, he should be here soon so just page me whenever it’s fine to come back.” 

Mark smiled your way, almost as if he was excited for you when he knew he wasn’t. 

Just as he was to turn and leave, a thought crossed his mind. “By the way— has he said anything?” His eyebrows furrowed and some doubt was visible but you just shrugged with an awkward smile.

“No… but he always acts like he forgets when we have anything big coming up.” You laugh to ease those nerves he’s created. 

“Plus, I saw a box a while ago in one of his desk drawers and I think it’s a bracelet.” You tried to defend Hyuck, even when you nervously played with the flowers on the table. Even though you were trying to act giddy, Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for these feelings he’s created. 

“Alright… have fun then!” Mark walked to you quickly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your cheek that you received with a smile before returning it. You felt your arms tingle with the warmth of his skin, lightheaded when he removed himself from you.

The second Mark closed the door behind him, you sat with that anxious pit in your stomach waiting for your husband to arrive. You didn’t know if it was for what he had created when it came to Hyuck or for his touch– nevertheless it’s September 7th: Your anniversary. That’s all that should matter now.

You knew Hyuck arrived home late so you didn’t put it past him to do so on your wedding anniversary but the more the clock ticked and the needles cycled around with no sign of him, you felt vile begin to form in your throat. 

It was coming around to be 10pm, then 11pm, and before you knew it 2am had rolled around and all that was left was the uncovered pot of stew covered by a layer of grease, wilted flowers crumbling down, and napkins full of smeared makeup and snot.

You were trying your best to not think about it much. You didn’t want to think about how foolish you were to think that despite how much you and Hyuck weren’t on the best terms as of the past months, that that love you once shared would triumph at least on your anniversary. 

It was clear enough to you that he didn’t care anymore. So picking up yourself and your pride you made your way towards the restroom, wiping away the remains of your makeup and preparing for bed before paging Mark to come home. 

He didn’t think twice about it when he felt the vibration against his hip, it was until he saw you sadly pour the stew into containers that he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

There was no sign of Donghyuck anywhere in the apartment and it made his blood boil. All he could do was walk your way, taking the pot and washing it while you put the container away in the fridge. 

“So… wanna go on a bike ride tomorrow? We can get lunch, and then we can head to a music shop. I know you’ve been meaning to buy a CD player. Oh a picnic sounds perfect.” He knew it would do no good talking about his best friend and it was just best to ignore the subject.

You had been trying so hard to not cry this entire time that Mark offered to spend time with you but it made that barrier break and the waterworks to cascade. Mark felt guilty, as if he had said something wrong and he didn’t know what to do besides take you into and embrace and whisper apologies against your hair that he caressed as your back.

“Y/n, please. I’m so sorry if I sa—“

“No, it’s not— just— why can’t he be like you?” 

Mark felt his heart ache and it got worse the more you cried against his chest, your arms tightening around his waist. He could smell the sweet scent of wine mixed into the one of your minty toothpaste. He could only assume that you had gotten drunk from despair.

“It’s okay… why don’t you go to sleep? We have a big day tomorrow, I'll finish cleaning up.” You didn’t have it in you to deny him, you were too tired and distraught from this little stunt Haechan pulled on you that you just wanted to lay down at least. 

Simply nodding, you gave him a last tight squeeze before letting him go, looking up at him with a thankful smile. Perhaps it was the alcohol but the longer you stared at him, the more you noticed how much more you adored Mark. That same tingle he created earlier was presenting itself in an excruciating way.

He was the sweetest boy you’ve known, he treats you so well and expects nothing in return, and he’s always been supportive of you.

Temptation was always lurking and his rosey lips looked enticing more and more but it seems he caught onto your thoughts that he swallowed the lump in his throat. Clearing his throat, Mark smiles at you whispering a tender ‘goodnight’ that you repeated kissing his forehead before walking straight to the bedroom.

Mark felt frightened while you stared at him. Truth be told if you had kissed him, he would’ve let you and even kissed you back but right now he couldn’t. At least not when you’re so vulnerable, tipsy, and also his best friend’s wife.

Fuck… his best friend’s wife. 

The second that door closed behind you, Mark let out a hampered breath, scolding himself for ever thinking about you in that aspect. They were only worsening as the days passed by.

Running his hand over his face and throwing his head back, Mark headed back to the kitchen. Though temporarily, washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen had aided him in forgetting those rising feelings. But like always they’d creep up once he was able to think freely again.

He tried to sleep that guilt away, tossing and turning hoping with every move it would shake out of his bones and leave through the open window but nothing worked. Frustrated with how easily the idea of kissing you had disturbed him, Mark grunted on his way up to the window. Taking a hold of his cigarette box that laid on the kitchen counter.

It was already 4am nearing five when he had finished cleaning for you but even so Hyuck hadn’t arrived until now when Mark leaned against the windowsill with the stick between his lips. 

Lighting it, he shakes his head with a breathy laugh that makes smoke blow out of his lips. “Unbelievable.” He tells himself, eyes following the drunken moves of his friend and laughter from the men inside the car. 

He counted the minutes and seconds until Donghyuck was to arrive at the apartment, his loud steps not missed. 

“55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60… 1, 2—‘ 

The glowing red within the cigarette consuming more and more of the paper and herb, warming up where he held it, a clear sign that he should get a new one. Exactly when the warmth of the butt was becoming unbearable, Mark threw it out to the street hearing the doorknob rattle upon Haechan opening the door.

In his giddy drunken state, the young man smiled seeing his best friend, rushing to him to embrace him as he loudly greeted him. 

“What are you still doing awake? Wanna have a drink?” He asks in between laughs, rushing to the fridge and grabbing two bottles, easily opening them with just the back of a knife. Mark took it without a thank you, lighting up another cigarette with so much disgust in his face the longer he looked at the state of his best friend.

Lips swollen and red, glitter littered all over his body and sticking to the sweat of his neck that was stained with rouge and purple kisses. He reeked of expensive cigarettes and alcohol and his slacks had stains that could only make him gag from just imagining.

Mark simply shook his head, scoffing at the antics of his friend. His guilt was gone seeing how much worse Hyuck could be than him. Taking a swig of the beer, Mark glared at his friend. “What is wrong with you? It’s so fucking late.” He viciously asked, inhaling smoke from his new cigarette.

Hyuck laughed, taking one from Mark’s box and lighting it to join his friend. “Okay, mom.” He replied, feeling as if he was just jesting but when Mark’s expression didn’t change he was becoming visibly frustrated. After all, what did Mark care about? He was just staying with them.

“Not for me but for y/n. She’s been waiting all day for you. You’ve really fucked her over, Donghyuck.” 

Mark doesn't call him Donghyuck— ever. Only times he’s done so is when he’s angered him badly and right now he couldn’t understand why he cared so much about you and him. Putting down his bottle and turning to his friend, Hyuck’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth felt slightly agape. “What does it matter to you? It’s just another day.” His voice, gruff and deep now.

The smoke Haechan blew out made its way to Mark’s face, creating a more hostile night for the two. He wasn’t going to back down. In all his years he’s never seen you cry and he wasn’t going to let that slide. 

Mark mirrored Hyuck’s dissatisfied expression, coming closer to his friend in defiance. “You smell like shit with signs of another bitch all over you on your anniversary, dipshit. Is it still just another day?” 

And it crashed down upon him when Mark’s finger crushed itself against his chest, poking him as a wakeup call from the drunken daze he was in. Feeling as if a bucket of water had been dropped on him, Hyuck’s eyes widened in horror, fingers threading with his hair and yanking at it with anger like the day Mark had arrived.

“Fuck—“ He took a seat, putting off his cigarette on the ashtray. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t have a present either, what the fuck am I gonna do?” 

Fear was all over his face, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep, rocky night, and the frustration from how you’d treat him for the following weeks or even months until you forgot it.

Mark didn’t care, he only focused on his statement about the gift. Angered, he finished off the second cigarette before glaring at his friend more. “She found a bracelet in your drawers, what do you mean you don’t have a gift?” 

Hyuck had never seen Mark this angry before but for now he would focus on his own problems. “Who is it for? Are you fucking with me? Are you cheating on her? I love you, you're a brother to me but I will beat your ass if you fuck her over, Hyuck— promise to God I will.”

It was an eratic moment to spew such words that Hyuck’s expressions smoothened and his fright dissipated. All that was left was a twinge of curiosity the more his eyes squinted. 

‘Interesting.’ He thought, the gears in his brain hating this new feeling just as Mark was hating his own new feelings as well.

“It’s for my mother’s birthday… but I guess I’ll give it to her now.” He collectively spoke, his words coming out slowly still processing Mark’s attitude. Mark didn’t seem to pick up on Hyuck’s peaking interest, shaking his head with obvious discontent. 

“No, you have to get something meaningful. Something special, I mean she got you something you wanted, she spent all day preparing for you. You can’t just do something like that, Hyuck.” 

“Fine, I’ll take her out to dinner tomorrow and how about you get the present?” He hoped that was good enough to get Mark off his back or at least to get his help. After all, he is his best friend.

Mark sat in complete disgust and anger. “You didn’t hear shit I just said, did you?” An angered smirk as he scoffed before finishing his beer. Hyuck grunted in frustration, his eyes screaming: ‘What more do you want from me?’ The wider they got. “Dude, I don’t have time, you know this.”

But it was useless, Mark just glared at him one last time before nodding. “Fine.” He grumbled in disapproval. “Alright, thank you.” Hyuck added with his own annoyance laced into it. Fishing for his wallet, he handed Mark one of his credit cards before silently walking to the room ending the night for both of them.

Lonely and angry.

Thankfully enough when waking, you were the ray of sunshine that made his day better. Driving almost an hour to the countryside, Mark and you spent it entirely on rented bikes.

Going to the nearest park the two of you had a picnic at, mainly focusing on how to sweeten each other’s mood and avoid thinking about last night. Though Mark drowned out the fears he had just last night, you felt them flourishing within you.

You liked that he was gentle with you and treated you nicely. If you ever argued with Mark it was over the taste of something and not about how useless he thought your likings were.

He cooked and cleaned if you weren’t in the mood. If you were he’d help, he just made sure to not let all the burden fall on you. 

You liked Mark. You always had but right now the lines between platonic and loneliness were blurring. Enough that this day felt like a date and not just friends hanging out.

It didn’t matter though, at least you were glad there was someone out there to listen to you. Just as he did now the longer you talked while walking inside a small shop of antiques.

Finishing the drink you held in your hand, Mark held the door open for you. Words cascading from your lips as he admired every single one of them. Even when he took your cup to throw away before roaming around, his eyes didn’t leave your face.

The only time he was able to remove his gaze from you was the moment he heard your excited squeal while rushing towards the jewelry section and gawking at a seemingly golden locket.

The smooth metal etched with intricate vines filled with flowers, glimmering in the sunlight that shot through the vast windows behind the counter. Mark admired the shine in your eyes. How they glossed over and sparkled in adoration, almost as if this was the last thing you’d want before you died. 

He supposed you could feel his intense staring that you turned to smile at him before clutching his arm, feeling you shake a bit. “It seems silly but my mom gave me one exactly like this one when I was a little kid and I always wore it,” 

You shifted your leg. “But when I moved in with Hyuck it went missing. I guess you could’ve called it a warning.” You laughed trying to ease the underlying message as you continued. “Ever since I lost it things haven’t gone well, perhaps it was my lucky charm; and it’s been so difficult finding a new one that makes me feel the same as the one she gave me but it hasn’t worked out.” 

Feeling your head lay on his shoulder as you stared at the piece without touching it, Mark looked down upon you. That odd feeling manifesting itself once again and tearing at his intestines. 

“How much is it?” He questioned, feeling you shake a bit more. “Uh—“ You separate yourself from him, the trembling from your legs increasing and your breathing hitching in the back of your throat. 

Whether it was because you had to go to the restroom or solely for the price alone. “Damn… Hyuck would kill me if I spent that much on a simple necklace.” You stated, before fully separating yourself from him and whining that you had to go to the restroom before he tried to oppose his friend’s view on spending.

Hyuck couldn’t be this frivolous, right? Well, Mark couldn’t really judge how other people spent their money, after all his reckless way of living is what has him crashing at his best friend’s place.

But this is you and Donghyuck he was talking about. Sure he wouldn’t care that his wife spent money on something so meaningful and after his arrival last night it was evident he spent his own money grossly.

Nevertheless Haechan told him to buy you a gift you’d appreciate and this was the perfect one. Whether it was too much or not, he was never given a budget and Hyuck would have to deal with it on his own.

So while you remained in the restroom, Mark rushed to the register, pleading with the cashier to quickly wrap it for a gift. While she tried her best to make it look presentable, his desperate staring was making her nervous to where she fumbled with the chain and the box.

If it wasn’t because there was a timer on how quickly you’d come out he would’ve been slightly upset at how messy it was but now that he could hear the creaking of the door far in the back inside this silent shop, he couldn’t care less how badly the presentation was. After all, he'll fix it while you get ready for tonight’s date with your husband .

The closer the tapping of your shoes got, the bigger the rush he gained while swiping the card and signing the receipts, hoping the cashier would hurry up on her end as well. Poor girl.

And when he could see your silhouette from his peripheral view whilst you looked around the rest of the knick-knacks, he shoved the box and receipt into the inner pocket of his jacket, unintentionally glaring at the girl despite thinking his gaze was apologetic.

“Ready to go?” He questioned, patting his chest hoping the imprint wasn’t visible. “Yeah…” You dragged out, a pout on your lips as your gaze turned to the display the necklace was on. At its disappearance, your eyebrows furrowed and your pout deepened. 

“What?” He questioned, holding out his arm for you to grab again. “And the locket?” You ask, he was about to answer when the cashier interrupted the both of you. 

“Someone had bought it before you came, they’ll be here shortly to pick it up so I just packed it. I’m so sorry if you were interested in it.” Her tender smile made your pout soften, telling her it was fine as you dragged Mark out dejectedly.

Despite knowing he had gotten it for you, Mark couldn’t let that disappointment you held go. Hopefully as of now when Hyuck was to give you the locket, that you’d feel better and forgive your husband even when he most likely didn’t deserve it.

When Hyuck had arrived and told you about his plans, it didn’t change the tense ambient that had been created upon his arrival. Though you reluctantly got ready while Hyuck moped about your mood, he was praying to all entities that you’d both let it go once the date was over. Even if deeply and unconsciously he felt put off by the both of you together— a twinge of jealousy. 

The restaurant was cold and dim, dull. Though he tried making conversation and you tried to answer, that deep built up of anger was clogging your throat, choking you with its fiery vexation.

Hyuck was beginning to feel his own frustrations bubbling up the colder you became towards him. He was trying his best to make this an enjoyable night but when you’ve spent your entire days fighting— things like these become a heavy task.

When nothing else worked, Hyuck reached for the inside of his suit jacket, pulling the box Mark had handed him rushedly whilst he pushed the both of you out of the apartment in hopes the air would finally clear.

“Y/n.” He called out for you, your fork resting on the plate as you averted your gaze towards him, humming in response. His free hand reached for yours, clutching it tightly as a plea to please forgive him for all his wrong doings (As if a measly dinner could fix all his invective words).

“I know I fucked up royally last night,” Your eyebrow quirked in sarcasm. “But I’m truly sorry for ruining our day for work. I’m sorry I prioritized it over our marriage and perhaps it’s the reason we haven’t been doing so well these past couple of months along with other reasons…”

He sighed, his fingers intertwining with yours as his glossy eyes trembled trying to look into your cold muted ones. “And I know this dinner doesn’t amount to anything you deserve, so at least take this…” His hand left yours, that coldness from before remaining. 

“To show I love you so much more than I can love anyone or anything.” Upon opening the box, your face lit up and you sat up straight. Your eyes are no longer cold, instead they are excited and warm.

You felt the need to cry, to weep and forgive him as it seemed he did know all along about your locket. That is until you opened your mouth. “So it was you?! You bought it from that shop?” You excitedly questioned as he stood to put it on you.

Kissing your cheek, glad you finally caved in. Standing behind you to put it on not caring if people were to see, his cold fingers graced your equally cold skin, making him slightly shiver. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s really simple, nothing too special. Would’ve gotten you something prettier but I know you like things like this, found it down the street from the apartment but I thought it’d look beautiful on you.” He cleared his voice before allowing his lips to fall upon yours.

Perhaps this kiss would have meant more to you but hearing him lie about where ‘he’ had bought it was making your guts churn in pain. He truly will never stop lying to you, huh?

In the matter of seconds as he sat down and looked back at you, Hyuck couldn’t help but notice your eyes dimming again. “I see.” You’d mildly continued, giving him a small smile and dropping it. 

Easy as that, a smile was enough for him to feel like he had gotten you back. Taking your hand into another grasp as he chose a dessert for you both; your returning scowl went unnoticed.

You loved Hyuck. You think you do, he is the man you married but why does he continue disappointing you so much? At what point in a relationship do the things the other person does become insufferable? 

At what point do you look forward to not spending time with them and instead find comfort in someone else? It seems that you have reached this point. 

Morally, it was consuming you. You were supposed to be the perfect housewife that keeps the home clean and given him a child by this point but all you were was a wreck longing for her old independent life while thinking about spending time with her husband’s best friend.

 What he did to lead to what you two were now was not helping this case anymore.

After Hyuck had given himself away that he hadn’t bought the locket for you, the only person you could think about was Mark. There’s no way someone else could’ve bought it before you two just for it to end in your hands. 

The inscriptive inside of the box with the shop logo was also a dead giveaway of where it was bought, something Hyuck should’ve looked at if he had fabricated his lie well. Or perhaps Mark had set him up for failure and just told him to give it to you.

A part of you wants that latter to be true, for Mark to wedge himself into the relationship to create some excitement but you knew it wouldn’t happen. Not only because he was Donghyuck’s best friend, your own close friend, and because he just isn’t that type of person . 

In conclusion Mark was the only one who could’ve obtained it for you and had managed to get the cashier to lie for him. Mark is the only one who knows the meaning of your fixation on that locket. Only he would buy something that has a meaning for you to obtain. 

All you were worried about was how he paid for it when he was in a crisis as of now and hoped Hyuck had paid him back as he was the one to give it to you after all. 

And as the quiet car ride back to the apartment fell silent besides the hushed radio playing in the background, Hyuck walked in celebrating as if anything had truly changed. 

“Wine or beer, baby?” He questioned, his hand on the fridge handle looking at the inventory. Your mind elsewhere, eyes wandering and looking for signs of Mark. 

To no avail, you turned to your husband, grabbing the bottle of beer in his hand. Hyuck kissed your cheek for the second time this night, following it with a peck to your lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Is he here?” He questioned, reading your mind. You only shook your head, looking into his eyes wondering if his question was out of realizing your reasons or for his own. With your response, he smirked, his face moving closer to you. His pillowy lips found yours, taking them into a kiss full of yearning. 

His hand creeped across your torso, dangerously inching up to your breast, feeling him squeeze through the fabric of your dress. It’s been a while since he’s touched you, mainly due to how often you’d both go to sleep angry at each other but right now was the chance. 

Even if you were tired of his ways, you’d still let him. The feeling of lust taking over you but slowly the thought of Mark tried pushing through your brain. 

Hyuck’s cold fingers found themselves under the fabric, grasping the mound and giving it a slight squeeze. Your lips continued enveloping against each other, him smirking when your breathy moan spilled against his. 

He chuckled looking at your state, flushed at the steaminess of the situation, his other hand bunching up your dress enough to where he could slip his hand in between your legs easily. 

“Hyuck…” you moaned, resting your forehead on his chest, the grumble from his extended chuckle making you shake. “Yeah?” He asks, his delicate fingers gracing over the warm fabric of your panties that slowly moistened the more he touched you. 

You tried talking but felt your voice tremble with every syllable, barely pushing out the name that’s been manifesting itself all this time. “M-Mark—“ 

The moment his friend’s name came out as a moan to his ears, Hyuck stopped his assault, standing up frustratedly. “What did you say?” He questioned with darkened eyes, scared and angry that you could possibly do that to him (despite what he’s done to you.)

Despite how much you both fight each other, you both were good at reading each other’s body languages. His hostile figure made you act fast and pushed his hand back in between your legs as he reluctantly began to touch you just out of suspicion. 

“I just meant that he might not be far…” you gasp, leaning closer to kiss him softly compared to the teasing, teeth-clashing ones from earlier. “So maybe, fuck—“ the pressure on your clit increasing, softly circling it. 

“Maybe— hurry.” You bit your lip, his anger dissipating and that shit eating grin returning the second he opted to slip his hand inside the purple fabric of your panties, the wetness making it stick to the upside of his hand. 

Hyuck chuckled at the scene before him, it had been so long since you two had been intimate and seeing how you melted onto his touch was doing things to him. Your whimpers and moans fueling his hurt ego and the further his fingers teased your entrance, thumb rubbing at your clit— it grew more and more. 

“Oh? Have you been holding it the entire night? I can feel it sliding down my hand. Maybe I should get a taste?” He teased, his fingers threatening to leave your slickness and reach his lips when your speedy hands prevented any movement that wasn’t caresses to your needy cunt. 

He chuckled loudly, leaning down to bite your swollen lower lip before kissing you softly. “Hyuckie, stop being such a tease!” You dragged out, becoming more forceful with the kiss. His tongue swiped against yours, the warm satin feel mirroring the wetness between your legs onto his digits. 

“You haven’t called me that in a while… Ah my princess does need me!” Ecstatically his word embedded into your lips, rewarding you with a second finger that at most was just as cruelly teasing as the one before. 

You whined even more hoping he’d find it in his heart to plunge his fingers deep into your crevice but knowing him and how insanely cruel he can be, the hope dwindled the more he teased your entrance with just the tips and pulling them back out to hear your glorious cries. He wanted to cave into you. He wanted to please you as he had in the past but this seemed to be the only efficient way he could actually make you pay for the way you’ve treated him for these past months. 

Yet despite his vexatious actions to further embitter you and start his own sort of revenge, he couldn’t do it. Deep in his heart he knew he still loved you like he used to. He simply had to give in to you, as much as it pained him how easily he submits to you. 

Determined enough with the melting of his hateful heart, Hyuck leaned in to kiss you and ease that pent up frustration. “I love you so much, y/n.” He whispered against them, your whimpers swallowing the words you couldn’t process or at least refused to believe were true. 

But glory blessed you as his fingers began to prod at your labia and soon found your opening. Your moans were too loud, those demonstrating how long he’s left you to fend on your own that the simplest of touch could lead you to where you’re at. 

He shushed you calmly, smiling against your mouth while you gnawed on his lips, your hands reaching for his aching erection. With the swift touch of your delicate fingers over the textile, Haechan whined, his fingers prodding deeper into your cavern. He didn’t move them yet, a third finger taunting you as you rushed to unbuckle his belt used as a reward to grant you more satisfaction. 

“You’re close, honey. Almost there.” He cooed with a needy and proud smile, his free hand petting your hair to incentivize you to continue as a great reward would soon come. His third finger taunting your opening while his thumb circled your clit to create more arousal. 

When your nimble fingers had finally gotten rid of the worn leather, you pulled at it, throwing it across the kitchen to the living room without a care where it fell. Hyuck granted you with an excited laugh, pulling you in for a kiss as he slowly pushed in his third finger, the tip of it softly gracing through. 

“Good girl! My God you’re too good for me! ” He spoke in between kisses, your tongue asking for more, caressing his lower lip. Hyuck admired the fucked out state you were in. Your eyes hooded and dark with need, your lipstick smudge from all these kisses, and your arousal seeped from around his fingers dribbling down your legs as tears would on your cheeks. 

You were so needy, anything and any movement could make you release now and though you’ve masturbated throughout this dry spell you both put yourselves through— nothing could amount to how good he makes you feel even if it’s just with fingers. So of course you were needy, of course you wanted his fingers stuffed inside you and you wanted him to finally move them inside you.

That would’ve happened, if it wasn’t for Mark. 

Hyuck whispered against your lips how he’d start moving his fingers now. His pillowy lips molding against yours, pulling you by your hair closer to his starving mouth; his fingers began to slowly move and as you were beginning to feel the pleasure your husband always granted you— the front door creaked open, too fast that all you two could muster was for Hyuck to remove his fingers from inside you in a hurry as he refused to let go of your lips. 

The kiss didn’t last long, for odd reasons it was you who didn’t want Mark to see more of the scene. His subtle lingering gaze on your organism made you feel small under him, as if he was exhibiting some sort of disappointment or ache. His despondent expression left immediately to one of a playful smile, almost giving you whiplash from it. 

“Good night I’m guessing.” He joked, removing his jacket and putting away the box of cigarettes in his hand. “Yeah, I guess so.” Hyuck laughed, turning his back to both of you. You didn’t stop looking at Mark, hoping he’d react to what he just saw even if you knew what you wanted him to react with. He didn’t though, he just gave you a nod to acknowledge your presence. 

Your husband continued to make conversation with his friend, the one trying to avoid you for his own reasons. It was odd to say the least, on both of your parts. It was odd that minutes prior you were too enthralled with the man you’re married to but right now all you want was for Mark to say something to you, you almost wanted to apologize to him for having him walk into that scene.

You didn’t want to say it or think it— as the months pass by you’ll realize it felt like you were betraying him instead and not your husband. 

Mark knew what you wanted though but he would pretend it was all in his head as he is still trying to process the discovery he’s made: he’s falling for his best friend’s wife. 

So for the time being he’ll do his best to keep this relationship as it has been for the past years. Simple and platonic. 

“But yeah, I think the meal was good. Y/n? What did you think?” Hyuck’s voice broke you out of the void, turning to him and then Mark. “I liked it, yeah.” Simply put. Hyuck deviated the conversation, opening the fridge to pull a drink for both you and him, asking Mark if he’d like one but in order to avoid you given it was harder for him to ignore your silent cry for a pick of attention— he opted to choose the going to sleep technique to leave the setting. 

Mark shook his head, opening the door to the guest room to throw in his jacket. A tender tiresome smile, “Nah, it’s cool. I’m going to sleep, you guys continue to enjoy your night.”  Hyuck simply shrugged, turning to the cabinets to pick out some snacks. In the moment he had done so, you rushed towards Mark, grasping his arm to stop him from fully entering the room. 

He froze at the contact, feeling the area become warmer than his remaining body. Mark’s shocked face gave him away, he wasn’t meant for this type of situation. “I just—“ you turned quickly to look at Hyuck, the man still distracted with the boxes of popcorn. 

“I just want to thank you.” Your remaining hand showing him the locket, a smile forming on his lips, one you mimicked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A shit eating grin while blush krept upon his beautiful chiseled cheeks, making your chest burn up at how you enjoyed that look on him. “Right… It means quite a lot actually— again, thank you, Mark. You truly do know your way to a girl's heart.” 

You whispered the words, pulling him closer towards you and kissing his cheek as he grasped your hip in fear of any more proximity. It was quick but it felt eternal for you both, the fire in both of you making it difficult for him to go inside the room. 

And though you both felt a beautiful yet painful fire, Hyuck from the corner of his eye saw such action, his own fire scorching with a new found feeling he was not liking. 

“Hm…” he hummed quietly to himself, a pout ensuing on his lips, pretending it was nothing. I mean, he was his best friend and you were his wife— That’s. All. There. Is. 

To avoid like the rest of you were, Hyuck feigned a smile, pulling you towards his arms the moment you stepped foot into the kitchen. You reciprocated the action, going further enough to kiss him. It was good enough to feel like the kiss you’ve given to his friend's cheek was nothing— that’s all he needed. 

“What do you say we continue what we started in the room, huh?” He raised his eyebrow cheekily, a giggle leaving your lips to decline the offer. Whining as to why, your husband pouted at how you only continued to giggle, your arms wrapped tightly around his slim waist. 

“Y/n-ie, come one~ why not?” he cried, kissing your lips softly before your neck. His plump lips encased your throat, his tongue lapping at the warm flesh that was making you reconsider your answer but the memory of him was making you stand your ground. 

Kissing him one last time and holding his face in between your hands to make him focus on your words; “Mark is still awake, Hyuck. We can’t fuck with him fully aware, walls arent very thick.” You reasoned, kissing him once again. 

You failed to notice his pout turn displeased, his expression overall seeming stoic now, aggravated. The film of love over your eyes blinding you from his change in demeanor; making your way towards the couch and inviting him to it just to keep up the facade of a normal marriage. 

“Come on now or I’ll pick the movie.” You threatened, picking up the remote to the TV. Hyuck shot you a tender smile, one faltering as quickly as it appeared. “Go get comfortable first, I’ll prepare here.” His voice dropping, some defeat laced on it.

You smiled at him lovingly, oblivious to the way he stared at you and the rays of hurt exuding off of him. Closing the door behind you to get ready, Hyuck leaned forward, his head falling to his hands as he clutched it hoping all those thoughts would leave his head. 

Mark is his best friend and you’re his wife. You and Mark are just friends— that’s all it is. But even if he tried to fool himself, this marriage was too fragile for him to not fully worry as he always has. History can repeat itself one way or another.

One ought to think that after that night in which you and Haechan had put aside any hatred for each other, that it would remain and the fighting would subside but that night only made things worse.

Whether it was the lingering sexual tension neither of you were to relieve that night and the ones to follow or simply how you two couldn’t put away the resentment that has grown but things were bleak nonethless. 

Some part of Hyuck blamed you, he didn’t know when he began feeling hate towards you instead of pity and self hatred. And the other part blamed Mark. In countless arguments you always threaten him by mentioning the possibility of storming out of the room and spending the night with his best friend as he’s the only one who doesn’t irritate you. 

As any partner would do, Hyuck grunted in frustration, picking up his pillow and slamming the door behind him as he took his spot next to Mark in the guest bed. Both men awkwardly and uncomfortable on the bed trying to avoid bringing you into the conversation. 

For one because your name and presence made Hyuck enraged and for Mark he could only feel guilt bubble inside him while thoughts of you clouded his mind. 

Mark and you had always gotten along. You both shared a love for the arts and that only made you both closer these months. When it didn’t pertain to art, you two always teamed up to bother Haechan as a taste of his own medicine for ever bothering either of you. 

Times used to be good, dinners and parties were fun but the more he indulged in his work and tried to climb whatever hierarchy ladder there was, he became such a— such a dick. The actions he took upon when you were on a work trip didn’t help either.

You should’ve taken in all the signs from whenever you met the wives of his coworkers. Their sunken faces and dead eyes staring at you with pity when he first brought you around. 

Their ‘awe’s’ and ‘oh’s’ when you shared how lovely Hyuck was to you and how you two met. His persistent love for you that’s led you to where you two were at the time. Their pity should’ve been obvious, at first it was jealousy but no one knew the truth of having men in this field like they do. 

So now they look at you like you were finally one of them. Your miserable and tired gaze with every single one of these dinners. How annoyed you became every time Donghyuck opened his mouth to let out a joke or just speak. You had to catch yourself from rolling your eyes most of the time for his sake but it was becoming so exhausting when he didn’t try to do anything for your sake.

“So how’s the job hunt, y/n?” A nasally pesky sound buzzed towards your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts about tomorrow's plans. Lifting your gaze with confusion, you still turned to her. 

Rapidly glancing at the people around the table ready to collect their coats, you held in your sigh as their attention was now fixated on you. “I’m not looking for a job.” You answered sharply, Donghyuck helping you into your coat, buttoning it up for you to keep up the perfect husband facade he’s trying to maintain. 

She cocked her head, the hairspray held cylinder bangs bouncing but never moving with gravity. “Really? Hyuckie said you were looking for a job.” God how you hated her. ‘Hyuckie’? Yes you hated his guts as of lately but he’s still your man and jealousy is inevitable. 

You threw a glared at him, “Don't call me ‘Hyuckie’, Merdia.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose knowing what she’s trying to initiate. She chuckled trying to slap his arm playfully but he backed up before she could touch him at all, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“No… I’m helping a friend of ours. He’s an artist himself so we’ve been contacting old clients of mine to get references or any openings.” The group began to walk as you talked, the clicking of all your heels collecting on the marble tile. She follows along, trying to get as close to you. 

“An artist, how lovely.” One of the women added, smiling towards you. “Yes, he’s quite good. We’ve been working on some pieces for a while, while we wait for some responses.” You smiled fondly at her, your smile as wide as when you used to talk about Hyuck. 

“He’s amazing actually…” your smile refused to diffuse. The woman chuckled, nodding as a response while Hyuck side eyed you, stoic his face became. “Mark is a good artist.” It came out too bitter from his mouth; emphasizing the ‘is’. 

Reaching the front of the restaurant with the cars from the valet already at front the couples were getting ready to bid their goodbyes. “You speak so highly of him, if he’s available for commissions please let me know. All the pieces you’ve brought for our home fit so well I’d be so interested to see his work.” Another woman spoke, holding onto to her husband who smiled at her lovingly. 

This was the brightest you smiled all night, nothing fake and short of past conversations. Haechan loved your smile, he really did but to know it brought Mark into the conversation was making his heart ache. 

“You should really consider coming back as a consultant for the company, y/n. Keeping an eye on Donghyuck on your part is becoming tiresome.” His boss jokes, causing the party to chuckle. “Hope he hasn’t caused more trouble like he used to.” You commented, his lips falling against your cheek to reassure you he was no trouble at all. 

His boss shook his head as a response. “He’s become too boring these past years, loose him up or something.” You laughed knowing he was absolutely right, patting your husband’s hand. “Well… it was a great night, thank you all for accompanying us once again. Sunhee has something to do early tomorrow so I’ll see us out, have a great night.” 

Leading his wife in front of him carefully. In the process of going down the slight hill, one of her shoulder pendants dropped to the concrete. “Mrs. Oh you dropped your—'' Trying to help, you made your way towards it but before you could the obstacle or Merdia’s foot tripped you making you fall into the large fountain for cars to surround. 

You splashed around with the shock of the cold water biting your body as Hyuck rushed to your aid and some of the people in the party trying to see if you were okay. Even the staff noticing the happenings rushed to get whatever they could to free you from the breeze and dry you up. 

But either way you still shivered despite the panting host handing you two warm and folded towels that Haechan secured around you. “What is wrong with you for fuck’s sake.” Hyuck finally broke out, turning to the woman who pretended to be sorry, trying her best to grab you. Merdia was at a loss for words, stammering to say it was an accident but Hyuck retaliated with the exact happenings. 

“That was of such poor taste, Merdia!” One of the women exclaimed, her wrinkled skin prominent the while she frowned in disbelief. “I— I didn’t mean to…” she spoke lowley, glancing at those around her but mainly Hyuck and her boss. The poor man couldn’t make it home yet without making sure you were fine. 

“We all saw you stick out your foot, give it up.” The most cynical in the group spoke up, sipping from the drink she had ordered while the host brought you towels. Sometimes you feared you and Hyuck would turn out like her and her husband. Hating each other too much it was useless to try and hide it from the world. 

She couldn’t even speak, your shivers and Hyuck’s cooing too loud for her to even process the scolding she was getting. “You two go ahead. Y/n is freezing. I don't want her to get sick.” Mr. Oh directed the both of you with his hand, rushing you both to his car while Hyuck apologized but everyone else reassured him it was not his fault and he shouldn’t do so on her behalf. 

All you could hear was his boss telling her he’d want to have a talk with her tomorrow morning while his wife reassured her she was too immature for her grown age. As Hyuck drove away and made sure you were fully covered to not let the breeze cool you more, all you could think about was the hatred you had for the people in his job and those who’ve crossed his path inside that building. Even if Mr and Mrs. Oh were the sweetest people there can be, you’ve found to hate them to an extent. 

He patted you down with his own blazer, covering your bare legs with another one he had in the back without a care if the expensive piece would be ruined. “Are you okay?” He asks concerned, his hand rubbing your arm to warm up the area. Pulling out of the place he continued to blabber, questioning and acting like he cared. He probably did but you didn’t want to believe it. 

You never answered, shivering from both cold and anger. With every second of your silence and his aching chest, Hyuck grew frustrated, not knowing well how to process such emotions. They were bubbling up inside him and the worst of him was taking over, enough to not stop his mouth. 

“For fuck sake, y/n say something! I’ve been asking you the entire ride if you’re okay, speak up!” To say his scream didn’t catch you off guard was an understatement, usually during arguments no one screamed so this was still new to you. 

Even when you imagined your eyes to be wide they were cold to him. “There’s nothing to say.” Your hoarse voice broke out through gritted teeth. He scoffed, palms slamming the steering wheel. “Of course because all you have to say you’ll say to Mark.” That bitterness from earlier was back, his teeth grinded with the mention of his friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You turn to him, disgust masked on your face. “Every argument, every discussion, any free second— you’re always with him. You tell him everything, I’m your husband, not him! You’re supposed to have trust in me!” You can hear a sob stuck in his throat, trying his best to repress it but it kept fighting to come out. 

Maybe if it was another time and a past year you’d feel pity but it was only infuriating you. “How do you want me to trust you when those stupid letters are still engraved in my fucking head? All those little greeting kisses? Even the ones of Marida—“ 

“Don’t even bring her up, I would never be with her.” Disgust laced in his tongue. “Of course I know you wouldn't be with her. She’s old and ugly, I know you too well but that stupid seaweed girl is still—“ now it was your turn to hold in the sob. You rather not continue, you’ve tried to hide for too long that you were still hurting from the events that have led to this decaying marriage. 

“Y/n please…” his hand reached for you. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You spat, moving as far as the car door would let you. The action alone caused him to emit a frustrated growl. “That was a while ago! Stop bringing her up for fuck sake.”

The speed he was driving in was only accelerating almost as if he couldn’t really stop his emotions from taking over. “So what, Hyuck? It’s not going to change the fact that you still cheated.” This time you couldn’t stop yourself, your tears forcefully spilled, your silent cry increasing in sound the second your head bowed and hand reached your forehead. 

You hated this, you really hated that he was seeing you this vulnerable but it did really hurt you to see the man that went out of his way to have you throw it all out for an ounce of attention. 

It had started a year and a half ago, though brief, the wound is still very fresh in your heart. With just two years of marriage, Hyuck began to act more loving than usual. In any case that would’ve been fine but if you hadn’t temporarily gone back to work at the same company you’d never know it was due to a short haired redhead that would give him seaweed treats every time the company called her catering services. 

She was sweet and kind. Every time he came around she’d blush and wasn’t able to hide it. Though his flirtation was innocent at first (as it always is) he began to like the attention she gave him. She was detailed about everything, from the color of her catering plates to the tiny designs on every treat but his specifically.  

It went on for a while with just flirtation remarks and gifts, after a while they’d accidentally cross paths at the park where he’d walk the dog you shared and soon became their hang out spot where they’d talk and talk for hours until the sun would set and he’d have to walk her home. Sometimes he’d simply spend the night… 

She’d tell him good night with a shy hug and a kiss to the cheek progressively getting closer to the corner of his mouth. Soon came the letters, the ones of her professing her love for him and how passionately she felt about him asking him to not speak of his own feelings just yet as she wasn’t ready for a response.  

And when she had finally gotten emotionally prepared for a response, a divine intervention came. On the day you had come back from a trip for a piece to place at the front of the company— the catering team had been called.  

With the table set and the treats and meals prepared, the employees came along. Anxiously waiting for his entrance with a plate of the same seaweed treats she’s been making him all these months, her face brightened up when he came into the picture.  

You still recall the scene before you: Have forgotten your coat, Hyuck had offered to give you one of his he had kept in his office granting him to let you walk to the lounge area with the rest of the employees.  

At the moment you had been standing with a few of his female coworkers catching you up on all the gossip you missed while out of town and working at a different company, laughing along to whatever they were saying when he had just walked in with his coat in hand searching for you but being stopped by that same red head. 

You wouldn’t have thought anything of it was it not for how she excitedly pulled him in, her lips gracefully falling to the corner of his mouth given he turned his head so it wouldn’t have. She seemed to dismiss that as she handed him the treats and he thanked her.  

She was rambling for a while making him grow a bit exasperated but she placed down any other plate and removed her gloves begging him to follow her outside the lounge. Looking around in hopes no one else caught what you had, you excused yourself to look for him in hopes the other two women around you didn’t follow.  

You had ended outside the door, hidden behind the protruding wall to listen into their conversation but it was a grave mistake.  

“I-I wrote you another letter.” She handed it to him, a shy smile along. “Don’t read it right now, I just want to make this quick because it’s eating me alive, but—“ she sighs nervously, hands beginning to shake and sweat.  

Exhaling through her lips, “I’m at a point where it hurts so much being around you daily. I really like you, Donghyuck. I’ve made it clear in all these letters and with this one more. I dream of kissing you more than I already do, I want all of you and I finally want to know if you want me too.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands.  

Hyuck was at a loss for words, he knew what he wanted to say but he knew he couldn’t, not when he loved you more than her. He could’ve said something but his initial thought was to take her into an embrace giving her false hope when she reciprocated it, smiling and sighing to herself the tighter she pulled him in. Her hands caressing his back like you always do.  

The sight and confession was eating you alive, the lump in your throat was too heavy and hard, it was choking you. This was all killing you but you’ll be damned if you were to let anyone get him after your vows have been made.  

Fighting with that lump you finally swallowed it, turning on your heel and walking towards them with determination and anger in your body.  

“Hyuckie! What’s taking you so long?” Your voice as fierce as always, it’s a quality they all liked about you. “I— um well.” If he was to be truthful, he was shitting bricks in this instance.  

“I’m cold, come— feel.” Your lips puckered up pecking him and your hands reached his cheeks making him laugh into the kiss. All the catering girl could do was look at the both of you dumbfoundedly, eyes large as her heart broke into million pieces. 

“Yeah, I see— honey this is… well. She caters for the company.” Oh he was so full of shit. Turning to the girl in front of you two as he wraps his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. “This is my wife, Y/n. She’s an art consultant here.”  

Poor girl, she just nodded as a response, meekly speaking her ‘nice to meet you’s’ before excusing herself before her throat fully closed up and the waterworks began.  

When she was earshot away, you turned to him. The fire in your eyes turned soft and sad as your fists found themselves against his chest. “I leave you alone for three months and you do this to me?” The air was scarce around you, he didn’t make it better the more he tried to pull you in and his apologies spewed from his lips. 

When he had finally taken a tight hold of you, you did your best to relax. Labored breaths against his chest, his apologies never ending followed by kisses that you tried to avoid.  

“When we get home you’re giving me every single one of those fucking letters and trust if I see her again here or wherever the fuck you two are seeing each other, I will make sure you’ll be the one to wish you had never tried this stupid game.” 

Hyuck knew of your status in the company and in his own field alone. Even if you didn’t have that leverage, a scandal like this was enough to ruin his career. As an increasingly important member he couldn’t afford an affair scandal, it wasn’t going well for any of his other coworkers.  

So when he swore to never let it happen you rushed him to the lounge, taking the coat, putting it on, and walking to the washroom hoping the red head would be there. Lord knows you’d rather cry in one than let anyone in the building see you a sobbing mess.  

But you’re always right, so upon opening the doors to the black marbled washroom, leaning against the matching sink— she tries to stop letting her tears spill. When the door harshly slammed, she turned around scared , only to continue her pained cries when she saw your face.  

“I didn’t know he was married if that’s what you wanted to ask.” She hiccuped, trying her best to stop. “I know.” You answer, standing next to her in front of the other sink.  

With your finger you clean up the smeared lipstick from the kiss, a reminder to her of what you can freely do whenever you want and all she could respond with was another sob. “Did he sweet talk you until you finally agreed to go out with him or something?”  

She shook her head, wiping away some loose tears. “I was the one to start it all, he was just flirty so I thought he liked me back.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with a paper towel. “That’s just how he is. He playfully flirts with everyone.” That didn’t seem to make her feel any better, it was making her feel worse.  

Angered at the turn of events, she looked at you with desperation. She could see why he wouldn’t leave you for her. You were beautiful, the way you carried yourself was so enticing and pleasant.  

You were charismatic, confident, and it seemed like everyone loved you by the way people greeted you upon entering the lounge before him. Of course he wasn’t going to leave you, you were a diamond in the rough.  

“Why are you here?” She questioned desperately, feeling more tears coming this time. With your lipstick at hand, you threw her a glance ignoring her as you retouched the color. When you had finished you turned to her, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.  

“I don’t blame you, you didn’t know he was married and the bastard was just having his little fun while I was away at your expense. But now you do know he’s married so I better not see you near him again.” The clicking of yours heels bold as your words upon reaching the golden handle. 

Turning to her waiting for a response. “You’re not sorry about it, right?” You smiled at her, genuine curiosity upon the question. “Why should I be? You said it yourself. He was having his fun at my expense… Maybe just for you.” She sniffled again, clutching the paper towel to her chest.  

“Smart girl.” With a final nod, you made your way out, dropping the facade and rushing to the elevator down to the basement and to your car. Just like she had, you allowed your tears to flow while leaning on the steering wheel, your hands slamming full force against the dashboard the louder your sobs became.  

Everything from that point on went downhill. The dog perhaps had felt the atmosphere and months later had died leaving you alone to fend off your repressed emotions on your own. A month after that Hyuck had made you leave the company you worked at, given your state, along telling you he needed more time with you and perhaps nothing would’ve happened if you didn’t travel out the country for months on end. It all led to where you were at now. 

If it wasn’t for Mark being around, you’d still be moping about the situation. How can someone that’s done everything in his power to be with you and love you more than he loves himself do that to you? 

How can he, after four years together, allow something like this to happen when you’re not home and then blame you for the happenings? If you hadn’t interrupted them, he would’ve confessed he also felt something for her. Not as strong as he feels for you but he would still feel an attachment. 

“Just, please…” He pleaded, fear in his voice. “I keep telling myself not to write to you all the time, but the mere thought of you is so strong, but I can’t help writing thousands of letters to you everyday and every second. I hope you like the seaweed treats, and make them all for you.’ I hope you like the seaweed treats. I make them all for you.' You fucking hate, seaweed Hyuck.” 

He was more amazed that you memorized all that but knowing how you were you had probably fixated on that part of each letter that entire week he gave them to you. “I read over your letters day and night. Can’t stop thinking about you and I know I’ve told you multiple times not to tell me how you feel, a part of me can tell how you feel from all your letters and the way you touch me.”

“Y/n, stop!” Hyuck yelled at you. He didn’t really understand if he was more angry that you still brought it up or that you kept reciting stuff you were keeping away from him. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that, sometimes I really wish I could kiss you but for now I’ll settle for this.’ That’s before you your last few letters by the way.“ 

He was driving recklessly at this point, the car, either speeding or swerving, but neither of you could care much. Before you knew what he had pulled up to the basement of your apartment complex, parking in the assigned spot.

Neither of you got out of the car. He just sat there in silence basking in the uncomfortable atmosphere that both of you created. 

“You know I still think about that cheek kiss, and how many more there have been.

“Probably just as many as the ones you’ve been giving Mark.”

It was your time to scoff offendedly, looking at him with disgust and anger in your eyes. “Aw fuck you! Mark and I have always been platonic! And yes I do tell him everything, he listens to me, he remembers the small things, he actually tries to be of comfort unlike you.” 

Your fists found your thighs, the textile of his coat sliding off to the floor of the car. “By the way, really? Sending him to buy the gift?” Pulling at the locket, you show it to him. “You’re sad you’re not the man I met…” You slumped back against the car seat, unbuckling yourself ready to get out. 

“Well neither are you! You’re not that lively girl anymore—“

“Because you ruined me! You make everyone around you miserable! Mark and I have a great time until you come home and bring us down with you! You suck like the life out of people, Hyuck. Even the dog died because of what you started!”

That was enough for the both of you. Glaring each other down in silence as the animosity settled around you, suffocating you both to the point you just shook your heads and threw the towels and remaining coats to the back of the car while stepping out, slamming the car door and leaving him be, hearing his screams as he slammed his fists on the wheel and dashboard while you walked away. 

Just like the day that started all this, you rushed to the elevator allowing your sobs to become louder. With every rising number, your pleas to stop the tears followed suit in case Mark was still awake. 

You didn’t want him to see you like this. It already pains you enough that Haechan was able to see you crumble because of him, you didn’t want Mark to see how vulnerable you could be again. 

But what you didn’t know is that Mark has already seen your vulnerability besides your anniversary night. With every passing month he’s stayed with you, you granted him an open window of what else you could offer and he liked that more and more as the days passed. 

Entering the threshold of the apartment and leaving the door unlocked for when Donhyuck decided to come in, your feet waltzed towards Mark’s room. The faintest of music could be heard, you couldn’t hear him but you could hear the song. 

‘Someday you will ache like I ache…’  

Sang in a loop, spinning inside your head the closer you got to the door. Hyuck was right, you did want to open the door and tell Mark tonight’s happenings. You wanted him to take you into an embrace and comfort you but you didn’t want Hyuck to be right and your initial thoughts on your vulnerability weren’t allowing it either. 

There was nothing else to do but head towards your bedroom, throwing Hyuck’s pillow to the living room before finally locking the door behind you. The song kept repeating itself as you prepared yourself for bed, the volume in your head increasing with every movement you made up until your head hit your cold lonesome pillow. 

The stupid song was only making you want Mark to be right beside you, to at least see him before you slept so you could end the night in a good note and not the bitterness your husband made you endure. 

So now that your face wasn’t as puffy from the crying and only the tingling remained, you jumped from the bed rushing to his room glad Hyuck was taking his time in the garage. 

The pitter-patter of your feet against the tile was loud for you, the creaking of his door making you wince as it screeched at you, and the song was even more loud to you than it already was. 

Illuminated by a desk lamp and the city lights while his curtains remained slightly ajar, you approached his resting body. He looked so peaceful in this position, holding tightly to one of the pillows. It’s decor fur rustling with the whistles of his silent snores. Aside from peaceful, he looked beautiful. 

The image of him was making your chest twist and turn; crouching down to eye level when your hand subconsciously fell to his face. Caressing the growing stubble he tried so hard to remove but you loved so much.

He wasn’t much of a deep sleeper, the touch alone waking him up much to your fright. Ready to remove your hand from his face, his hand held it in place as the other rubbed at his eyes. With you in front of him and the placement of your hands, Mark quizzically looked at you, still squinting away his slumber. 

“What’s up?” Was all he could muster, trying his best to smile but found it too tedious. You shook your head, returning the smile. “Did the music bother you? Let me just turn it of—“ 

“The music is fine.” You stopped him from bolting up. The last thing you wanted was for him to lose his comfort. This time around he was finally waking up, well slightly given he nodded with one eye closed and the other open, still trying hard to smile. 

“Scoot over.” Patting the pillow, he follows your orders tossing it to the other side and freeing a spot for you. When able to, you climbed on the bed beside him, facing him and taking his arm to wrap around your waist as if you were that pillow. 

Mark felt shaky at the situation, his hands becoming clammy and trying his best for you to not figure out how nervous you were making him. “So… It’s your turn to sleep here tonight?” He joked, his smile finally showing. 

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head, causing him to chuckle. “He’d rather see me sleeping on the road than being in bed with another man.” Noticing his rising fright, your finger pressed against your lip, signaling that it’ll be your little secret to which he nodded trying his best to have that smile return. 

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a good night again?” His eyes fixated on the way your face muscles contorted. “It is now!” You laugh, taking a hold of his hand squeezing it between your hands. Mark reciprocated the laugh, his body unconsciously getting closer to yours. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You shook your head. “I do want to talk about my favorite person right now, though.” You turn to him, cupping his cheek in your now free hand. He smiled shyly, eyes shutting tight the more overwhelmed he became. 

“Is tomorrow’s interview still on?” As told to the wives of Hyuck’s coworkers, you had been helping Mark during his job hunt. Contacting old bosses of yours and art lovers in hopes they’d take him in and help him gain that passion for the arts on a commercial level. 

Though things were radio silent these months, finally someone had called him back and asked if he could go in for an interview in hopes of hiring him for some installations for a new chain of restaurants the man was soon to open and maybe a position at one of his studios. 

With the mention of the interview, his already wide eyes grew and a coat glossed over the moment he began to excitedly ramble about his ideas and just genuine happiness of finally going back into a studio. 

He was adorable to say the least; the unintentional stammering, his slipping laughs from joy, and his unconscious emotional movements the more he got excited over this opportunity. To say the least perhaps Mark and you weren’t too far with how you felt and you weren’t much better than Hyuck. 

Nevertheless, if he was going to be selfish then you would too. 

“Then make sure to get a goodnight sleep so you can look refreshed and ready. Prayers, you'll get it!” You exclaimed excitedly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. 

He didn’t hesitate this time, arms tightening around you. His hands begin to roam against your skin and his exhales landing on your hair, rustling them like ferns in a windy gloom beach. It felt too familiar yet foreign as the sensation was new but the visual wasn’t. 

“Night.” He whispered against your ear, his long fingers tracing patterns against your flesh to the point goosebumps formed. Mark smiled at the reaction, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth, fighting to not inch closer to the swollen lips.  

“Night…” you whispered back when he let you go, staring at each other whilst you struggled to get out of his bed, the smell and warmth of you intoxicating him tonight. 

“By the way, Hyuck is still in the car. Do you mind getting him if he doesn’t come back by the time you go to sleep?” There the moment went at the mention of his best friend, your husband. His smile dropped but he nodded. 

Finally being able to close the door behind you, your feet rushed to lock the apartment door then your shared bedroom with Haechan who even now had not returned not thinking about how the mention of him had drastically changed Mark’s demeanor.

Situated in your cold bed once again, the city lights being the only source of illumination and the mixture of Mark’s song with the water pipes lulled you into the night. The thoughts of how history was only repeating itself with the exception that it was your turn to get a lick of Happiness. 

Mark did make you happy and his actions tonight only worked as reassurance that he saw you the same way you were seeing him now. As fucked as this entire situation is, it’s only fair that Hyuck aches like you have been these years.

Morning came and all that was left of Hyuck was his pillow right next to your head, his smell lingering in the sheets when you woke and his spot still warm. Maybe he hadn’t spent the night in Mark’s room or he had paid you a visit while you slept but you still couldn’t let your anger subside.

As in for Mark, you both ignored any lingering attraction, his chirpy self hyping the possibilities of getting the job. That’s what you liked about Mark, even when in a rut he was trying his best to act positive. 

With the goal of getting through that interview, you sat in the waiting room, idly flipping through the magazines as he talked with your old friend. Prayers in your tongue, sliding around and hoping he’d get it. 

So when he walked out through the white doors, smiling and laughing along to the jokes of the man beside him, things only looked as bright as him. His tie was a mess, flimsy and slightly undone. The button of his shirt undone and showing enough clavicle, smudges of graphite mixing in with sweat. His dress pants were worse off, splatter of oil paint in the bottom and drying stoneware seeping in. 

Disturbance in your face overpowered the smile you tried to give him, insanely frustrated for how much trouble it would be to remove all those stains. But it later dawned on you that he did his own laundry and often told you to not do these things for him. 

On one end it was nice that he assured you he didn’t depend on you but on the other you wanted him to— you were getting too used to the life Hyuck and you have been living… god, you seem to have forgotten all the times you’ve fought with him to do laundry as well, now you just do it for both of you. 

“Don’t look so gloom, darling. I didn’t beat him.” The older man told you, your muscles relaxing at his soft voice. “You did add trouble to the laundry load, Yasuki.” Your fingers ran across the stained spots, not quite noticing how Mark flexed his muscles from your touch, nervously laughing at the happenings. 

If you could see how you were looking at him you’d probably slap yourself. Your eyes glistened at the sight of him, his brown locks tamed back but that strand of hair still managed to fall over and play with his vision. It didn’t help that he was sweaty and his shirt was showing you a bit more skin than expected. 

“So how did he do?” You question straightening Mark’s sleeves. “That’s for him to tell you,” he winked at you, noticing he had a brush in hand to which he tapped against his leg. “I’d like to catch up but I have a meeting in five, so please excuse me.” His mustache ruffled a bit with every movement of his lip. 

You found it endearing how charismatic the old man was. He was so jolly that as he parted ways from you both, he skipped towards his office, that same brush tapping on his knees twice with each step. In a better life you’d want to be that happy. 

“So?” You question Mark, hand reaching to wipe his forehead and rid of his sweat. “So?” He mimicked, a bright smile that could only make you mirror it with every step you two took towards the elevator. 

The ding was heard and the doors ungraciously opened, both stepping in. “Come on~” you whined at his lack of response, Mark laughing quietly at how desperate you sounded. 

“Well how would you think I did?” He asks, stepping out the elevator once the doors opened, following after you. You shrugged on the way to the car, letting him speed his step to open the door for you. 

“You have to give me more than that if you expect an answer.” He cheekily smiles down on you, closing the passenger’s door and walking over to the driver's side. “Judging from how you came back, I’d say he had you working quite hard so he probably liked your style!” Excitement laced your voice, turning to him after buckling up. 

“Ding ding ding!” You look at him with joy. “So you got the job?!” Your voice was now squeaky, eyes almost bulging out. “Yes and no… he gave me some options first.” Cocking an eyebrow and leaning your head to the side, you looked at him with huge curiosity. 

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, tongue nervously swiping across his bottom lip, eyes averting to avoid yours. “One… if I want to continue with my own mediums, I’d have to relocate to his studio in a different city. It’s not as far, maybe two hours or so but far for a daily trip it is.”

You felt your world crumble and he had only given you the first option, you felt it stab your chest repeatedly. “Or two— his studio an hour away but it’s strictly digital art and design. It’s much closer and maybe if I take the express lines at the highway it’ll be faster but— I have no clue how digital art works so I’d be quite behind than the rest of the team.”

Mark was more concerned with his options that he failed to see the bigger image. With whatever option he took, he’d have to leave you regardless and that’s what was killing you right now. Your excitement was gone and right now you regretted recommending him. 

“What? What’s wrong?” He finally stopped his blabbering, noticing the look on your face was the same one you gave Hyuck when he hurt you. If there was something Mark didn’t want was to be compared to his best friend. 

“You’ll be moving out won't you?”

“Well yeah…”

You shift on your spot, head hanging low. 

“Please don’t. I promise we don’t mind you staying, actually it’s been the best thing to happen to me.” He dismissed the fact that you were talking about yourself, not wanting to make illusions out of it. 

“Y/n,” he softly chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek and making you turn to him. “I can’t commute daily for one-to-two hours, honey.” 

Oh… that wasn’t good. 

The sweet adoring look in his eyes wasn’t helping either. “Come on, I did tell you I’d stay for only a little bit didn’t I?” He tenderly smiled, thumb playing with the corner of your lips, all you could do was pout at him. 

“I didn’t expect it to be too short, I like you around. It’d be better if you just stayed with us.” He found your protruding lower lip adorable, unconsciously rubbing his thumb across it. “Thanks, but you guys are married, I can’t just third wheel all the time. Maybe if you two were just dating it’d be different but you're not and sooner or later you’ll form a family, I’d just stick out like a sore thumb.”

A family with Donghyuck? God, you put that thought in the back burner for too long after the incident that the words were making you ill now. Even when you two were dating, the idea of a family wasn’t something pleasant.

Mark took your silence as you still being sad about him possibly leaving, patting your arm and stretching his arms to take you in an embrace. “Don’t be so pouty, it won’t do us any good.” He spoke against your ear once his arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

He felt warm, his musk even more prominent than last night. Your own arms tightened around his waist, pulling him closer even when the shift stick was in between. 

“Just really wish you wouldn’t leave us…” you pulled away slightly, enough to make him turn to look at you. “Wouldn’t leave me.” In a whisper, the words hit his lips. 

Mark’s lips parted, shaky breaths leaving as he noticed how close you were. When the lingering stares didn’t subside until you leaned in to what he assumed was a kiss to his cheek; it took him by surprise when your lips fell upon his. 

His eyes widened in shock but the flavor of your cherry stain was too sweet and the taste of you was intoxicating. He’d be a liar if he said wanted to pull away but just with all temptation, Mark fell into it. 

His arms tightened around you, his eyes shutting and finally reciprocating the kiss you initiated. He loved the small whines that spilled from your lips. He swallowed them all with every passing that he’d part his, deepening the kiss and both your hands began to roam. 

You felt it in your core, that excruciating desire when his nimble fingers danced around the hem of your shirt, finding an opening so he could stick his hand under it. Your flesh was cold against his, aching at how his fingers cooled with just a touch. 

Your hands had unraveled from his waist, now playing with the buckle of his belt. Popping it open, and continuing the quest with his pants. He’d harden with every touch of yours, your palm rubbing his cock over the strained textile that only made him ache more.  

His warm fingers felt like fire against your freezing flesh, they danced across your back, caressing it until they met with the strap of your bra. Playing with the clasp until he was able to unbuckle it and his hands rushed to your breasts, kneading the mounds that seemed to be made for his hands. A perfect fit. 

Your moans loudly cascaded into his mouth, his tongue enveloping yours with every passing kiss. When your hands managed to pull at the hem of his briefs and finally grasp his hardened shaft; his own moans became present.

Eyes shut tightly, he bit your lower lip pleasurably painful. Your hands had warmed up in the process of touching him, that warmth making him feel like pity under your grasp with every pump you gave his cock. 

“I want to taste you.” Your voice broke him out of his daze, your lips finding solace in his neck, licking and nipping at the flesh. Mark moans vibrating through his throat, making you ravish his neck even more, your hand moving at a rhythm that was causing him to shake under you. 

Upon opening his eyes, it had dawned on him that you two were still in the parking lot of the studio. A wave of freight flooded him and a gasp left his lips along a worried ‘fuck’. 

“Wait, stop, stop!” His abruptness confused you and almost scared you. If he was regretting this already you didn’t know how to take it. “We can’t do it here, I think I saw a lake not far from here.” But he put your mind at ease making your concerned frown turn into a smile, leaning in to kiss him as he tucked himself back in.

Looking around to make sure no one had seen anything, Mark rushed out of the parking lot. Your labored breaths faintly mixing with the radio conductor mentioning to make plans for the new millennium and enjoy the last months of this year. 

Some were frightened and others were scared. As for you, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Mark arrived to you months before the 2000s. Maybe that’s the new beginning everyone is talking about. 

Minutes later, you’d arrive at the lake he was talking about. Maybe it was because he was speeding from his excessive desire but he found a spot in which you’d both be hidden from the public. Rushing out and towards you; Mark made sure to cramp both of you inside the backseat. 

From how rushedly you both went in, some bumps along the way weren’t missed, making you both whine but forget about it when looking at each other. Hyuck wasn’t present in Mark’s mind but he was in yours. 

You were really doing this and remorse was difficult to find. 

“God, I’m so glad I can have you like this.” His lips spewed after each of his kisses on you. They were warm with every passing peck, attaching themselves to yours. Your hips began rutting against his groin, the thin piece of skirt doing nothing to hold off. 

Instantly Mark could feel the wet patch, groaning at how warm it was. Fuck, he wanted you badly. 

Upon pulling away from the kiss you two were too enthralled in, Mark looked at you through hooded dark eyes. He looked at you as if you were prey, the one who’d succumb to him and the way his grip on your waist tightened told you so.

Patting your ass while bunching up your skirt, “Lay on your back, I wanna eat you out.” His voice had dropped an octave, the huskiness making you shiver as you unbutton your blouse, the bra falling gracefully once free from the confinement of the buttons.

Curses spilled from his lips looking at you on his journey to kneel on the floor of the car, trying his best to push up the front seats to give him enough space. His once dark eyes glistened at the view of you, all that was left was the tiny fabric of your panties and the bunch around your waist. 

He caressed your thighs, leaning in to leave tiny wet kisses against the flesh that caused your eyelids to flutter from how close he was to your cunt. You could feel his breath fanning over the area, your legs twitching as he inched closer and closer.

When his lips hovered over your clothed cunt, Mark looked at you through his lashes, smirking at the state he had left you, blowing on your aching mound. “Stop fucking around.” You whined, hands clutching onto your breast, fingers twirling around your perked buds.

Mark chuckled, nodding in response before his fingers pushed aside the fabric of your panties. Moans erupting from his throat with every strand of your arousal stuck to your panties. He didn’t take much to please you, his own want taking over his being. 

Mark felt too happy about having you that he didn’t think about anything, not even the fact that he was betraying his best friend. Essentially his brother. 

His tongue came in contact with your slit, swiping upwards to meet your clit and continue the process of enticing kitty licks. You’ve been starved for so long that just the simple caress of his warm muscle was making you wither underneath him.

Your fingers danced across your skin, leaving warm trails on the frozen canvas. You couldn’t stop looking at him, progressively divulging further the more he fell obsessed with the taste of you. Mark ravaged the cavern between your legs, his lips glossed over by your juices that dripped down his chin.

He looked beautiful.His eyes screwed shut as he savored you, tongue laying flat when it wasn’t on your clit, his fingers grappling your thighs tightly enough to not let you go, and his lips refusing to let their suction go from you clit.

Your moans cascaded out your lips like a siren’s song, reeling him deeper and deeper into your trap. He didn’t mind, if he was to die at your hands then so be it, at least he’ll die blissfully. 

Enveloping his rosy lips on your clit, he latched onto it for dear life. Suctioning with force, much to your pleasure, Mark basked in the whimpers you let out. Withering under his touch and crying when he only kept granting you more pleasure. 

It didn’t help he teased your entrance with his fingers, making you cry over how much you wanted to feel full. In that instance, he parted from you, allowing you to spew your angry whimpers. 

“Look at me.” He patted your thigh forcefully enough to leave a sting behind. “Come on.” He demanded, repositioning himself closer to you, a perfect fit between his face and your cunt.

When you were finally able to open your eyes, you breathed out at the experience he was granting. “Don’t look away or close your eyes. I’ll stop if you do.” He menacingly spoke, smirking at how you responded with a frown and a nod. 

“Good girl. ” Fuck.

Breaking eye contact with you; Mark puckered his lips, accumulating spit that as of now he was letting slide down his tongue and onto your cunt. That same muscle poking out to spread it across your labia and clit. 

A hand came up to your mouth, trying your best to muffle the cry he caused. It didn’t help he found your frustrations amusing and his chuckles made a vibration that sent you overboard even more. 

You’d both could end up dying at each other’s hands.

His tongue lapped at your clit, collecting his spit and your arousal around the mound each time he was to suck on it. Mark knew you liked it, your body always reacted by shaking and your fingers threading onto his hair. 

He liked the sting from when you pulled on his locks. He liked when you shoved his face closer to the point you began to ride his face while his tongue penetrated you, licking upon every inch of your walls. It didn’t help that he tried his best to not break eye contact. With every moment and action, you’d both look at each other like your life depended on it. 

“Mark please… please let me finish, fuck—“ it came out strangled. His fingers clung to your skin, rubbing your clit each time his lips left it to allow his tongue to fuck you. 

He hummed against your cunt, warm breath fanning over it before kissing it passionately again. Mark didn’t respond but he did give you a show. With the way he sensually stuck out his tongue to caress your slit upon allowing his lips to land on your mound, you couldn’t help but feel that excruciating pit in your stomach flow to core, tingling painfully. 

He teased you each time. When he laid his tongue flat, he’d throw you a glance before shutting his eyes and swallowing your essence, fully intoxicated by it. 

“Mark!” You whined, a chilling tantrum to ensue. “Alright, alright, you big baby.” He laughed, swiveling his tongue flat against you. You felt your eyes roll and when he thought you were disobeying his one request, he nipped your thigh, causing you to squeal at the shock. 

“What did I tell you?” He cocked his eyebrow, teeth clenching around your sensitive flesh. “I’m looking, I’m looking.” You reassured, a look of despair on your face. A silent snort left him before resuming his activities. 

All that was heard was the mixture of labored breaths, cries, his deep moans, and the squelching between your cunt and his mouth. You couldn’t hold back much longer, it was becoming overstimulating and Mark didn’t hold back off much with how he worked his tongue. 

He seemed to sense your frustrations. His fingers picked up the pace on your bud, pressing down for more friction while his tongue entered you. Pistoning in and out, collecting every drop and making sure it didn’t spill to the car seat. 

You couldn’t hold much longer, your thighs clenched around his face, causing him to look directly at you while your body gave out on you.  He pressed down on your lower abdomen with his free hand. In a matter of seconds, you twisted under him. A coil unraveling where he held you and a loud moan leaving as a cry, your essence gushing out, covering his facial lower half.

He made sure to not let a single drop go, his tongue overstimulating you to no end but nevertheless stopped his assault. Your eyes were fixated on his, desperate want making you pull him by the neck, ravishing his lips with yours. 

The sweet nectar of you clinging to his tongue, the same tongue that waltzed around with yours. In the process of holding onto him for dear life, Mark kicked off his pants, shimming out of them and his briefs. Bare beneath, he pulled you over his aching cock, the tip gracing your lower half enough to make you squirm desperately.

“Fill me whole…” You whispered against his lips, biting them from time to time to signal how much you needed him. “Shit, looking at you is going to make me cum already.” You laughed along with him, connecting your lips again while your hips rutted against his cock. 

The silk of your walls rubbing against him, groaning in despair with every single of your movement, and he couldn’t even hold you or he’d make you go faster. He needed to be inside of you badly or he’d probably end up splattering all over his stomach.

“Yeah?” You questioned, face leaning against your shoulder, gripping his shirt so tightly it could leave wrinkles on it. “I want to paint your walls and feel it all ooze down them while I fuck it into you.” Mark’s words made you feel lightheaded, speeding up your pace and your fingernails to cling onto his shoulder blades.

He winced at the sting, removing your hands before pulling off his shirt, sweat drenching his bare chest. His proportions were insane; his slim physique enticing you to wrap your arms around him, holding tightly to his small waist as his abs clenched with the feeling of you against him.

“Lift your ass up a bit.” He commanded, holding your lower back while pumping his shaft, letting his precum collect at the tip. You took this as an opportunity to kiss the exposed skin of his neck. Your tongue licking stripes along his clavicle while it made its way to his jaw, leaving kisses all along it. 

You could feel his disgruntled moans vibrating against your lips the more he jerked himself off, leaving you dry and needy with occasionally taunting of his tip rubbing against your cunt causing you to whine against his ear for him to laugh at your misery.

“Mark, stop teasing!” You cried against his chest, your hands clinging onto him. Your hips began rutting against him again, lowering them until he’d smack his large hand across your flesh— reacting with a jolt and a gasp of arousal, your cunt never failed to clench around air. 

“You’re so needy, princess. I guess I can’t keep you waiting.” His lower lip pushed out in faux apologies, a smirk creeping out when you rolled your eyes at him. He only laughed, kissing you while aligning his cock with your cunt, eagerly ready to dive in.

He didn’t tease you anymore. Taking a grasp by your waist, Mark aided you to sink onto his cock, the stretch of his girth making you mewl like a wounded cat. You didn’t imagine him to be this big even when you held him you didn’t think much of it but now that he was fully in you and gravity was only making him fill you to the hilt, you fully felt his volume. 

His hands caressed your face and hair, patting down the strands while you tried your best to become comfortable around him. You didn’t expect it to be this difficult, maybe it was because of your lack of sexual life with Hyuck that any intrusion was foreign but God were you starting to enjoy the pain mixed with pleasure his best friend was sprawling within you. 

“You good?” He wondered, eyes fighting to keep open and experience your every movement fearing the moment would be gone if he didn’t keep himself fixated on you. “Yeah— fuck me, please…” you begged, your hips beginning to move against his. His lips fell ajar, his curses spilling in a prayer, fingers denting your skin the tighter his grip became. 

He created scratch marks along the flesh; his hips met your rhythm and your silent pleads became audible when you felt the angry tip of his cock kiss upon your walls leaving its gratitude in the form of gratification.

As for him, he felt your walls tighten around him, ready to clear him of all his cum— claiming him as your own. It wasn’t helpful that you were also holding onto him not wanting to let him go, your lips enticing him with every caress you gave. 

“You drive me insane, y/n…” he began, the sound of skin slapping against skin fading any other besides your labored breaths. His breath danced across your cheek, ruffling the hair that stuck to the sweat you produced. “I never thought we’d end up in this predicament but it feels as if it was meant to be— you for me and—“ your lips encased his, not letting him finish his sentence.

Whatever it was that he was trying to clear out was long forgotten the second your hips picked up their speed and the rhythm of your swiveling pelvis made him groan into the kiss. “I can’t get enough of you and this is only the beginning.” He laughed in between pauses, you shushed him in the process. 

You didn’t want to hear him talk besides his obscenities and praises, that’s all. It wasn’t time to bring in the reality you two will face or that awaits you. All that was precious at the moment was his cock stuffed inside your cunt causing both of you unimaginable pleasure. 

His eyes left yours, looking in between both of you. Mark lowered his head, accumulating spit in his mouth before letting the string of saliva fall onto your cunt. He took some of the spit that fell between you both and took it upon your clit. 

Biting his lower lip, pushing his hair back a bit— Mark continued to thrust his hips, fingers starting to circle at your clit clockwise. His grunts became louder just like yours with the amount of friction between you both. When his pelvic bone rubbed in between your bodies as his fingers went hard at your clit, you couldn’t help but feel your legs shake. 

The image of his spit dribbling down the tip of his tongue onto where you two connected was engraved in your mind, head throwing back by mere memory. “Do it in my mouth.” You told him, hand cupping his cheek. “Spit in it?” He questioned, you nodded, sticking your tongue out much to his pleasure. 

Puckering his lips, Mark saw the string of saliva land perfectly on your red muscle. You held it out for him to see as he thrusted into you, the pool rippled and threatened to fall with each of these jolts. Closing your mouth to swallow his residue, you stuck your tongue out again to show him you had taken all of it, simulating what you could do if it was his cum. 

He groaned at the image before him, the glistening of your sweaty chest blinding him as he pulled you closer to him by your cheeks. His fingers dug dents into your flesh as he held them tightly.

“You’re so hot, fuck!” A guttural groan left him, this time his spit was angry by the way it splattered in your mouth. This time he didn’t let you swallow it, his lips softly collided against yours, hot and angry was the plump flesh that ravished yours, nipping in hopes to receive more of your wanton noises. 

His tongue felt soft against yours, like that of satin and velvet rubbed against each other with the warmest of liquid coating them both. Sloppy the kiss was becoming, enough to let air in and make it last longer. You loved the taste of him, whether it was the mint-iness of his toothpaste or the blueberry tea he drank before leaving the apartment— it was driving you crazy how obsessed you were becoming. 

Mark was so near, with how hard he was thrusting within you, walls warm and clenching around his bare cock— all he wished for was to cum, to cum on you, in you, or over you— it didn’t matter. He just wanted to cum and now he couldn’t really help himself. 

“I can’t hold it any longer.” He warned you, removing his fingers from your clit, hands now holding tightly onto your hips. “Mark…” you whimpered, eyes barely opened, sweat accumulating at your neck making it all so sticky but it seemed to be over quite soon. Your forehead pressed against his, hand holding onto his neck. 

“Huh?” He’d respond, moving his hips once again, his pace only increased when you didn’t continue talking. “God, keep going.” You finally answered him, a soft chuckle leaving his lips before his head dipped down and kissed you once again. His lips soon trailed down your neck, tongue lapping at the thin flesh between your collarbones holding back to not leave any marks. 

It was eating him alive. Not because of Hyuck but because he wanted a mark on you to know this wasn’t a dream that he was actually fucking you and that you had chose him. But all he could muster was licking your flesh, savoring you to at least have that memory. Even the marks his teeth made disappeared quickly, taunting him and his credibility. 

You pulled his hair to make him look at you again, a pained yelp leaving his open mouth. He looked so pretty it could make you cry. In that instance you took him in for another kiss, just like him this was the only memory you could have. 

The kiss worked to muffle your increasing moans while he thrusted within you. By how close your bodies were, his lower half began rubbing at your sensitive clit. He seemed to know how sensitive you were down below as he only kept going faster and harder, allowing your fingers to dig deeper into his shoulders.

You were so close, he knew it. Mark knew how close you were and it didn’t help him at all. Your lips parted from his as yours mewls became highly audible, lips slightly agape. Mark couldn’t help but wonder how your lips covered in cum would look like. Just the imagery of the warm cloudy substance on your swollen lips made him hold onto your waist to fuck further more into you. 

“I can feel you so deep inside me,” you laughed against his neck, lips gracing his delicate flesh. “You’re twitching so much, just let go, Markie...” Your words sent him into a frenzy. His eyes screwed shut, his fingers refusing to let go of you and it wasn’t of much help that his sensitive tip was rubbing up against your warm walls. Kissing his cock with every thrust and squeezing in frustration every time it threatened to leave them. 

Oh, fuck he couldn’t help himself. With one last thrust and on the verge of cumming; Mark pushed you further down his cock as much as he could despite how much he’s abused your cunt with this same action alone. You clenched around him from the friction, your pleasured cries from the impact locking inside his ears making his cock leak like an angry water hose in the horrid summer trying to release everyone from the heat. 

You felt the spurts shoot painfully within you, a new wave of pleasure that shocked you from how long you haven't felt cum coat your cavern. The instance he did, your own eyes bulged out, lips forming a perfect ‘O’ that graced against his.

Both shared moans, swallowing them while trying to breathe and in the process you felt that same flush of pleasure in your lower abdomen. You chased your orgasm, continuing your movement against his cock, overstimulating him to the point he felt an ache with each stroke but if it meant you were feeling good, then so be it.

It wasn’t much longer until you felt that ache as well, slowing down the movement of your hips, your grip loosening from him but his didn’t on you. Upon stopping your actions, Mark brought you face closer, his lips leaving sloppy kisses along your temple and side of the face, while his praises spilled like a lullaby.

“ You did so good …” He huffed out, kisses on your cheek. “ You did so good for me, princess .” He swallowed trying to regain his breath, forehead connecting with yours in the process of trying to calm yourself down as well.

“You’re so good to me, y/n. You’re too good to me, you were made for me, you’re mine.” He chuckled, patting your cheek to make sure your fluttering eyes looked into his round doe ones. You didn’t respond, he didn’t give you an opportunity to do so. 

With a quick and final kiss from him, Mark took you into an embrace, arms tightly around you with no way to free yourself from it (not like you wanted to at the moment) leaving you to simply return the gesture and hold onto him tightly. His cock still buried in you.

You could hear his heartbeat fighting to calm down but having you this close to him wasn’t much help. In that instance it all came crashing down on you and him. His once happy smile fell the moment clarity came in and the trees outside rustled. Their wind chimes slipping in between branches and leaves, repeating the same thing he’s already processing. There was some shame but no guilt or regret. He felt pity for Hyuck and the friendship they had. It all came to one conclusion: 

He’s betrayed his brother.

if you liked 'happy together' then you'll like: airbag

please let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2 or fill out the taglist form in the masterlist! no blank or ageless blogs!

As the new social season approaches, your rising anxiety increases tenfold.

It has been four years since you were introduced to society, which is deemed far too long to be unwed for a lady like yourself. Your mother is nearly chewing her own arm off in anticipation of you finding a husband. She definitely would have married you off to the first gentleman caller by now, but luckily for you, your father refuses to tie you to another man unless you provide your stamp of approval. He possesses a soft spot for his only child that your mother never understood.

Unfortunately, the pool of suitors is extremely lacking, forcing you to pass by season after season with no husband in sight.

“Perhaps this year will be different,” Yerim coos. “They say Mrs. Kim’s son is particularly eye-catching.”

“He’s also a right bore,” you grumble, locking your arms together as you stroll into Mrs. Kim’s soirée. You’ve heard many tales of her son, Doyoung, and how he’s finally ready to settle down and take a wife. However, you also heard he is unwilling to sit for a conversation for more than an hour, and how his expectations for his wife are skyrocketing through the roof. “Maybe I shall just put him out of his misery and marry Lee Donghyuck.”

She struggles to conceal her laughter. “I would love to see that.”

The night carries on as expected, with you and Yerim spending your time near the wall while the other ladies dance around the floor. You deny multiple requests for your hand, conjuring up excuses of a strained ankle or an upset stomach.

It is not until the end of the night when you are confronted with your lie.

“A poor tummy, hm? Perhaps you should have stayed home in case you heave all over Mrs. Kim’s beautiful floor,” Jeong Jaehyun says as he approaches you.

You roll your eyes. “I imagine you find it quite hard to mind your own business, Lord Jeong. I would rather not be subject to hearing your grating voice if it is not deemed necessary.”

Out of all the gentlemen in the ton, Jeong Jaehyun is the one who has stooped low enough to classify himself as a proper rake. A man who preys on the hearts of women and lacks commitment — a rake is not a man that a lady would ever want to associate herself with. They do not take the concept of marriage seriously, and you shall likely find them in the bed of another woman before they grace your own.

Jaehyun smirks at you in the way he knows will dig underneath your skin. He has been out in society just as long as you have, and every year, he never fails to irritate you to no end.

“No luck for you tonight? Tell me, what could possibly be wrong with the wonderful men gracing this room? How have they wronged you so that you have denied every single one of them?”

You try to look for an escape, but Yerim has already made an early departure and the rest of the ladies refuse to mingle with you in fear of also being dubbed as a lonely spinster.

“I did not know you were paying attention to me so ardently,” you bite back, and this has Jaehyun’s ears blooming bright red. You smile in satisfaction.

“I-I was not doing anything of t-the sort,” he stutters. “It is simply hard not to notice when you are the only lady actively rejecting possible suitors. If you really want to drive them away, you should just open your mouth and talk to them. That shall have them running for the hills.”

You narrow your eyes and wonder how much of a scolding you shall receive from your mother if you threw your drink in his face. He guesses what you must be thinking, cupping his hand over your glass and handing it to a nearby staff member.

He continues, stepping closer into your personal space. “Soon enough, the only ones who will be left in this ballroom will be me and you.”

“I loathe the day,” you hiss. “It would personally be my worst nightmare.”

He winks at you. “Trust me, you shall not find a gentleman better than me.”

You hear someone clearing their throat and you both glance over to see Kim Doyoung standing in front of you. You immediately drop to a curtsy at his presence, and you hear Jaehyun scoff at the fact that you did not grant him the same etiquette.

“I hope I am not interrupting, Miss,” Doyoung says.

“Of course not, Lord Kim,” you reply. “Lord Jeong was just telling me how he plans to retire early for the night.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at you and you return his bewildered expression with a heated glare. You would be very content if he made himself useful somewhere else, likely with his hands underneath another maiden’s dress.

“Yes, it seems I have another obligation to head to for the night,” Jaehyun says through gritted teeth, displeased by your dismissal of him. “I shall thank your mother for being a spectacular host before my leave, Lord Kim.”

Doyoung nods once. “It would be much appreciated. Thank you, Lord Jeong.”

Jaehyun departs with one more scathing look thrown your way. You grin to yourself, happy to be rid of his presence, until Doyoung starts speaking and ruins your night.

“I have heard from your mother that you are in search of a husband. I find myself in a similar boat, and I would much enjoy it if you were to accept my offer for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

You could say no. It would not be hard to make up another excuse, but your mother would be absolutely livid to discover you have turned down an offer from Doyoung, especially after she practically handed him to you on a silver platter.

One afternoon of tea shall not kill you.

“That sounds lovely. I look forward to our discussion.”

When you turn to beeline for the exit, you catch a pair of eyes peering over at you, and you swear you see a flash of Jaehyun’s hair before he disappears into the crowd.

Hm. You must be seeing things.

—

Your mother acts as if afternoon tea with Doyoung equates to an audience with the king.

She dresses you in a gown she brings out for special occasions and has your handmaidens spray perfume on you until you are drowning in the floral scent. When she accompanies you to the tea parlor, she lists out your annoying habits that you should try to avoid.

You were not made aware that you possessed so many.

“And the way you look at him, darling, it is extremely unflattering. He can tell you hate him by the way you desire to burn him alive with your gaze. Stare at him with conviction. Make his loins stir from one simple glance at you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Mother, I shall say that I find this advice to be highly unhelpful.”

She growls at you. “You are nearly four and twenty without a single acceptance for a suitor’s hand in marriage. You shall adhere to any advice I am willing to offer you.”

Doyoung helps take out your chair like a gentleman, and you thank him while your mother sits one table behind you, eavesdropping on your conversation.

He cuts straight to the chase. “What traits do you envision for your future husband to possess?”

Your grip tightens around your teacup. You wonder what to say to ward him off, to get him to move onto the next lady.

“A man who will let me maintain my own hobbies and interests. I want to have children on my own time, not on the timeline my husband sets for me,” you answer, knowing that it is not the typical response a lady of your breeding is supposed to say. You are supposed to submit to your husband’s preferences instead of prioritizing your own. “I ask that he respects my wishes and swears his loyalty to me. I will not, in any circumstances, marry a rake.”

“This one is all bark and no bite, Doyoung. I would not take her threats to heart.”

You clench your jaw when Jaehyun approaches your table with a wide smirk on his face. He appears to be dressed for tea as well, but you see no partner by his side to accompany him. He must be here simply to intervene in your meeting with Doyoung.

“Lord Jeong,” you greet in clear distaste. “I was not aware you had been frequenting tea parlors as of late.”

“Ah, you must not be enlightened of my many passions then,” he replies with a cheeky smile. You resist the urge to slap it off of his face. “The madam who runs this shop has a fond affection for me. I always like to drop by and grab a free pastry.”

“How kind of you to take from the hard work of the common people at no charge,” you challenge with the tilt of your head.

Doyoung clears his throat when he senses the tension between you and Jaehyun rising with every scathing remark. You glance back to see your mother staring at you in abhorrence, and you quickly straighten your posture and adjust your tone.

“I apologize, Lord Jeong. I have been enjoying my time with Lord Kim. I am certain you have somewhere else you need to be.”

Jaehyun, to your chagrin, pulls up a chair. “Actually, my schedule is wide open for the day. I would love to join you.”

Doyoung stares at you, wordlessly asking if this is normal behavior, but you are too pissed off to respond. If Jaehyun wanted to cause a scene, he could have done so when you are not trying to prove to your mother that you still care about searching for a husband.

Your fingernails dig into the corner of the table and you lean forward to hiss at Jaehyun.

“Are you positive you have nowhere else to be?”

He smiles. “Absolutely. Now, catch me up on what you two were discussing. I would love to throw my hat into the conversation.”

Evidently, you and Doyoung have yet to be on the same wavelength for what you should and should not bring up in front of Jaehyun.

“I was asking her what she looks for in her future spouse.”

Jaehyun turns to you with a smirk. “Oh, is that so? Well, please, do not silence yourself on my behalf. I would love to hear the answer.”

“I already gave it to him,” you say in exasperation. “Maybe we should turn the tables on you. What does a rake like Jeong Jaehyun look for in a wife? Likely one that easily spreads her legs?”

You hear a gasp from behind you, and you know it is your mother’s shock at your candor. But you shall not allow Jaehyun to get the better of you and humiliate you in front of Doyoung. You hardly care if this statement will earn you a reputation for your crass nature.

The corner of Jaehyun’s lips twitches in amusement, only fueling fire to your flame.

“I would like for my wife to challenge me. It is not as fun when they comply with my every demand,” he says, and you fail to realize how the distance between you has closed in your heated spat. “I like a lady who knows how to speak up for herself, to voice her thoughts without concern for anyone else’s feelings.”

You scoff. Where in the world is Jaehyun going to find a lady like that?

“Good luck with your search, Lord Jeong. I have conviction that there is at least one lady out there who is meant to be with you.”

“I really should be going,” Doyoung says, standing and nearly toppling over the table.

You glance up at him in alarm. “Oh, I am sorry, Lord Kim. Let me just gather my things and-”

“No need, Miss. It must have slipped my mind that my mother asked for my presence back at home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

He scurries out of the tea parlor as if the place had been set to flames. You stare after him with your jaw dropped, offended by his poor excuse to leave you behind.

You growl at Jaehyun. “Oh, you have seriously done it now, Jeong.”

“Come on. Do not tell me you were actually considering that man to be your husband.”

Your mother’s figure looms over you and you shyly look up to meet her judgmental gaze head on.

“I believe it is time for us to return home. We hope you have a wonderful evening, Lord Jeong.”

You’re dragged away by the crook of your arm, glaring at Jaehyun while your mother dishes out the biggest scolding you have ever received in your life.

—

“Your mother has brought me a proposal that I think may be in your favor.”

Your father is hesitant when he enters your study, catching you reading books by the fire. It is often the pastime you favor when your mother is upset with you, which has become more frequent in the past year. Your father is the one who searches out for you to try and talk you down, amending your qualms with your mother for a harmonious household.

“I shall not marry Kim Doyoung, father,” you say with the shake of your head. “He embarrassed me in front of the entire ton today! I will not be able to stave away the mortification for days.”

He sits next to you on the chaise lounge and looks at you solemnly.

“I have not come to converse about Kim Doyoung. I am speaking about Jeong Jaehyun.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What does Lord Jeong have to do with this? He is the reason why Lord Kim fled from me in the first place.”

Your father wrings his hands around nervously, and you speculate on what has him so antsy. He is usually very candid with you about your behavior, which means you must have crossed a hard line if he’s withholding information from you.

“Lord Jeong’s mother came around this afternoon after your incident at the tea parlor. She thinks her son is acting far too reckless and wants him to settle down. She is considering sending him to his uncle’s house in the country if he does not start listening to her wishes.”

“That does not sound like a bad idea,” you reply with a giggle.

He offers you a strained smile. “Yes, your mother was thinking the same thing. Except she was imagining it for you.”

You leap out of your seat. He must be lying. Your mother cannot possibly be entertaining the idea of shipping you off to her brother’s house. He lives on acres and acres of land without a soul in sight except for the farm animals he cares for.

It would be your absolute nightmare.

“Father, please tell me you objected to this,” you plead, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

“Of course I did, darling,” he sighs, assuring you. “But then your mother and Lord Jeong’s came to an agreement that I could not oppose. I saved you from being shipped off, but in a few months’ time, you shall find yourself married to Jeong Jaehyun.”

You gasp. “F-Father, you cannot! You promised that I would get the final approval!”

He takes your hands in his and pulls you back towards his side. You are trembling at the picture of you and Jaehyun living as husband and wife. You would fight everyday and drive yourselves into a haze of madness.

“Darling, there shall never ever be a man good enough for you. I knew it from the day you were born, but your mother’s insistence on this matter has forced my hand. I think Jaehyun is a fine young man. You may not grow to love him, but he shall never put you in harm’s way. It is the most important quality a father can ask of his son-in-law.”

You start to tear up. “Please, father. Do not do this. Do not make me marry him.”

He pities you. “We shall start slow, darling. He shall be your escort to Mrs. Park’s upcoming ball and we shall ease into announcing your engagement. If he does anything untoward or compromises your virtue, I swear to you I shall back out of this deal.”

“But why can you not back out now?” You whine, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “Why can you not save me now?”

He winces as if your pain physically brings him harm. You understand your father has bailed you out of your mother’s many propositions before, but you honestly cannot let this one slip through. Jaehyun is the exact opposite of who you envision yourself marrying.

He has to be just as horrified by this proposal as you are. You have no doubt he’s sitting in a similar situation to you, arguing with his mother over her ultimate decision to alter the course of his life. This must be the first agreement you have landed on in history.

“You shall not realize it now, but I am saving you from a lifetime of heartache, trust me.”

You spend the rest of the night weeping in your bedchamber, burdened by Jaehyun’s constant overbearing presence in your life. You think back on all of the memories you have of him, and if this changes the way you feel about your inevitable coupling.

—

When you first met Jaehyun, it had been your first season out in society. You were optimistic back then, drinking in the fairytales of finding your one true love at your first ball.

You were not the only one jaded by love as many of the other ladies your age had fantasized about their first ball as an eligible lady for years. You would gossip to each other while promenading around the veranda, dreaming of the young bachelor who would swoop you up in his arms and make all your dreams come true.

You had known a few of the men from growing up with them as noble families. They were usually brothers of your closest friends, and your nose would twist in disgust at the thought of being courted by them. You were stubborn about your choice in a husband even back then.

Jaehyun had been the talk of the town that year. He already made an impression on the older ladies, winning them to his side with his dimples and classic charm. You heard of him through Yerim and how many of the other ladies were vying after the massive amount of wealth in his estate. He was one of the richest bachelors of the season, and any lady who was wed to him would automatically be elevated to a higher social status.

You assumed that because of his upbringing, he would act in a more gentleman-like fashion than the rest of his peers. You were proved wrong by his display of behavior at your first ball.

“Is he planning to dance with every lady in this room?” You asked Yerim, watching as Jaehyun once again swept through the floor with a different lady latched onto his arm. “I mean, every dance card in this place has his name written on it.”

She laughed at you. “Can you blame him? He has a lot of prospects. Everyone knows he’s the first pick of the season.”

“It is disrespectful. He is toying with their feelings for his own amusement. I do not like it.”

She poked you with a twinkle of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “No, you do not like that he has not asked you. You want a chance with him, do you not?”

You scoffed at the assumption. “Absolutely not. I have my sights set on a much higher man than Lord Jeong.”

You were so adamant on your superiority over him that when he approached you later that night for a dance, you swiftly rejected him.

“I think you have had enough dances for the night. Would you not agree, Lord Jeong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, likely wondering what he had done to already get on your bad side.

“One more shall not bring me harm. Unless your dancing skills are not up to par, Miss?”

You grinned at him. “My dancing skills are meant for a man who shall actually appreciate my talents instead of using me to cross another name off his list.”

That was the first time you had drawn Jaehyun’s interest.

—

Your mother had not been so gracious with you by your second year.

You had fumbled through a shoddy proposal from Kim Jungwoo, who was far too nervous to actually place a ring on your finger. You unfortunately injured his ego way too far for him to recover, and he quickly withdrew his proposal with his tail tucked between his legs.

Your mother blamed you for the ordeal and ordered at least five new dresses for you to present yourself in your second season. Luckily, Yerim had not caught any gentleman callers either, and you two began flocking together at every event.

By then, Jaehyun’s infamous status as a rake had spread across the ton.

He had been spotted slipping out of brothels late at night, flirting with married women when their husbands were away, and escorting random ladies to balls just for the fun of it. You never possessed a single ounce of respect for him.

Despite this, Jaehyun would not seem to leave you alone.

Every time you turned a corner, he would be there, waiting to surprise you with an insult or tease you about your almost-marriage with Jungwoo.

“Must we keep meeting like this?” He said after the season was nearly halfway over and you had just turned down another suggestion to dance. He stalked you all the way to the bowl of lemonade while you tried to ignore his grating voice. “No one here is up to your caliber?”

“What do you want, Jeong?” You spat out, tired of his nonsense. “I thought you would be halfway down the street by now, searching for an open brothel.”

He chuckled at your jest. “They have put up warning signs about me to all the women. Apparently I caused a few too many internal fights over my rugged good looks.”

You rolled your eyes. “I find it more likely that they figured out you are sexually impotent.”

“There is only one way to find out for yourself, hm?”

“I would rather gauge my own eyes out.”

“What’s the matter? Am I not as pretty as Jungwoo?”

Johnny Suh had been the one to rescue you, asking you for a dance, which was the first offer you accepted that night. You would glance to the side from time to time to catch Jaehyun’s gaze following you around the floor, but you preoccupied yourself by staying near Johnny, preventing the loathsome creature from approaching you again.

—

Johnny had gotten married to Lady Joohyun by the next year, leaving you without a regular dance partner in your third season. Many believed he would propose to you, but you knew that he had only wanted to make Joohyun jealous after his confession to you one night.

Jaehyun, surprisingly, did not bother you whenever you were with Johnny. He had been noticeably absent from any ball where Johnny was your escort.

You believed your luck had taken a turn until your first appearance after Johnny’s marriage.

“Well well well,” you heard his drawl from a mile away. Yerim looked at you hesitantly after you tensed by her side. “Look who has decided to make an appearance on her own.”

At the time, you were giddy about your chances of a husband that season. Many noblemen had returned from vacation with friends and distant relatives accompanying them, nearly doubling the pool of gentlemen at your disposal.

You were absolutely not going to allow Jaehyun to ruin the year for you. You decided to play civil, to hopefully make amends and let bygones be bygones.

“Lord Jeong,” you greeted with a curtsy, which had Jaehyun stifling a chuckle. “How lovely to see you here.”

“Is it?” He replied with a raise of his eyebrow. “If I recall, you compared me to a horrid bug staining the bottom of your shoe just a few months ago.”

Yerim pursed her lips to prevent a cacophony of laughter from slipping out. You squeezed her arm with a scolding glance.

“That was the old me, Lord Jeong. I am a new woman, so you see. I am about to become a bride after all.”

“A bride? To whom have you been betrothed to? I have heard no news of your engagement,” he said in a flurry, his eyes flashing with a panic for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“You have not heard news of my engagement yet,” you emphasized. “The night is young and I am a very willing maiden. Therefore, if you’ll excuse us-”

“If you are so willing, then shall you entertain me with a dance?” He questioned as he held out one hand, challenging you.

You clenched your jaw in frustration. You were all in favor of extending an olive branch, but dancing with him at the first ball of the season was a tad too far. You did not want to be making a statement for yourself by befriending Jaehyun’s company.

The ladies would assume you held no dignity for yourself and the gentlemen would be appalled by your association with him.

“I have already promised my first dance with Lord Lee,” you lied through your teeth. You knew Donghyuck would not mind dancing with you just to save you from Jaehyun. “I shall see you around, Lord Jeong.”

If you had known better, you would have caught the dejected expression on Jaehyun’s face after you refused him. But all you could remember from that night was his teasing smirk and the playful lilt in his voice as he mocked you.

—

Your memories of Jaehyun do not assure you in the slightest that your parents have made the right decision.

Yerim comes over the next morning after the news of your forced marriage, soothing your cries with warm pastries and fresh tea. She rubs your back while you lay in bed, moaning for your misfortune.

“It is not that horrible,” she says in an attempt to pacify you. “At least he is good looking.”

You blink up at her. “Are you serious? I hardly care about his looks, Yerim! He is deplorable! He does not have a single redeeming quality. My mother wants to ruin my life, I am positive about that fact. How could any other suitor ever want me again once I have been tainted by Jeong Jaehyun?”

She chews on her lower lip. “I know you are not fond of him, but he may not say the same for you.”

Her statement has you peeking over your pillow, curious to hear more. She catches your gaze and exhales sharply.

“Have you ever noticed that he attends events when he knows you plan to be there? Or how he talks about you to everyone who will listen? He may have a reputation for being a rake, but you are the only lady he has asked to dance with since our first season.”

The information slowly dawns on you, but Yerim must be imagining things. Jaehyun has never felt any real romantic feelings towards you. You remain faithful that you share this conviction with him.

You shake your head. “He is deluding you as well. Trust me, Yerim, I know where Jaehyun’s true feelings lie.”

She eventually helps you get out of bed and you fail to exchange a single word with your mother while you break your fast. Yerim nudges for you to say the first word but you refuse.

Your mother only acknowledges your presence later in the night when you are due to be escorted to your first public appearance with Jaehyun.

“You are not dressed.”

You brush your hair in front of the mirror, humming softly to yourself. Yerim left to prepare herself in her own home, but you wish she had stayed to help you fight this battle with your mother.

“That is because I am not going.”

“Whatever game this is that you are playing, I do not find it amusing in the slightest. Lord Jeong will be here within the next hour and I expect you to welcome him downstairs with a proper gown and your best smile.”

As your handmaidens help you into your dress, they exchange knowing glances with each other until you grow tired of their mind games.

“May I inquire what has piqued your interest?” You ask in a bored tone.

Seulgi, your handmaiden of over five years, smiles gently at you. She has been dressing you since your first season, and is very aware how irritated you can get during times like these.

“The staff have just been discussing, Miss, since your mother announced your plans for engagement. We have been in communication with the staff employed at Lord Jeong’s household.”

You perk up slightly. “Is that so? And what have you discovered?”

Seulgi beams at you. “Lord Jeong is positively delighted by your coupling. The staff has never seen him more alert. He has been placing orders for brand new decor for your wing of the house and has requested for his staff to research your favorite delicacies to stock the cupboards. It is quite endearing.”

You frown. Jaehyun has wormed his way into the minds of your handmaidens too. His ability to manipulate others should honestly be lauded.

“How sweet of him,” you say through gritted teeth, holding back your true feelings. Although they spend more time with you, your handmaidens are employed by your mother, which means anything you say in front of them could be parroted back to her.

You devise a plan while they continue to adorn you in jewelry and work at pinning up your hair. If you could get Jaehyun to call off this marriage, you are certain his mother would relent. Your cries may go unanswered because you are simply a woman who was born into the right family, but Jaehyun will run his own household after he is married, which means he has superiority over his mother’s decisions.

You hear his voice filter from up the stairs when you walk out of your room.

“It is honestly my pleasure, madam. Your daughter is a gift that I promise to treasure.”

You huff. Where does he keep pulling these lines from?

As you walk down the steps, you take in the scene unfolding in your foyer. Your parents are speaking to Jaehyun with radiating smiles, laughing at every little thing he says. His mother stands closely behind him, joining in on the laughter with a chuckle here and there.

When your heel hits the last step, they turn to you. For the first time, you identify the twinkle in Jaehyun’s eye that tells you he’s excited to see you.

Could Yerim be right? Does Jeong Jaehyun like you?

“There she is,” your mother says, tugging you over and pretending she wasn’t upset with you an hour ago. “She is beautiful, is she not, Lord Jeong?”

“Stunning,” he whispers, and you desperately want to punch him in the face.

“Let us head out, shall we? We do not want to run late,” you say, itching to remove yourself from the spotlight. Jaehyun nods in agreement, outstretching his arm for you to take it, and you reluctantly wrap your fingers around his bicep. You lead the way to the carriage waiting outside, murmuring loudly under your breath so Jaehyun can hear you. “You are so dead to me, Jeong.”

He helps you into your carriage, and you don’t miss the pained look in his eyes as he forces a smile onto his face.

—

Jaehyun never wanted to fall in love.

He has witnessed enough of his friends losing their sanity over the matter, finding themselves on the receiving end of their mother’s meddling into their lives. Some of them have found happiness while the others have settled for what they were given.

Although Jaehyun is the only child and he knows he must marry to continue his lineage, he never imagined he would marry for love. He would likely find a well-bred lady, one who would simply finish her duty in childbearing and leave him alone otherwise.

Before tying himself to her, he desired a little recklessness in his life. He tugged on the heartstrings of the ladies in the ton and stopped by brothels when he was searching for something quick and fast. It earned him a reputation but he hardly cared about what other noble families thought of him. He knew at the end of the day, they prioritized the wealth of his estate far more than his outside trysts, which means he would have no issue in securing a wife when he wanted to.

He really was not intending on taking an interest in you.

His mother had educated him on the ladies of his season, so he knew a little of your background. You are also the only child in your family, but being born a daughter means you must get married to receive an ounce of your father’s wealth. Still, this fact never seems to spur you on in your quest for a husband. He has noticed other ladies approach him quite confidently yet you stay sidelined at every ball, waiting for the gentlemen to come to you, even though you refuse most of their offers to dance.

And he shall admit that your adamant refusal to dance with him has him intrigued.

Although the other ladies are appalled by his reputation, they remain courteous enough to accept a dance or two, mingling with him when they see fit. Since his first season, Jaehyun has made it his own personal mission to get you to join him on the floor, come hell or high water.

He just never expected forcing you to marry him as being the catalyst for you to adhere to his wishes.

“You shall tell your mother that you want to call this marriage off,” you say as soon as the swell of the music starts and you take to the floor.

He takes a step towards you with a raised eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I am positively certain I will make your life a living hell if I become your wife. You may not favor me now, but you shall surely detest me once I am finished with you.”

But as you twirl around the floor, he fails to find his voice to tell you that he does not harbor any hatred for you at all. You may play those parts in public and it may be true for you, but Jaehyun has never thought of you as the chip on his shoulder.

The rest of the ton stares at you with wide eyes, whispering to one another about the sudden closeness between you.

“Is marrying me such a stain on your character? What, am I not on par with the likes of Kim Jungwoo and Johnny Suh?”

It infuriated him to no end when Jungwoo was courting you. The man did not even know a single thing about you! He was lured in by your pretty face, and Jaehyun snickered to himself when Jungwoo soon discovered that you have an independent mind, judging the man whenever he uttered the wrong thing. Jaehyun was over the moon when Jungwoo ended your courtship.

Johnny, however, was a player that Jaehyun was not expecting. The man was tall, handsome, and could definitely handle your sharp edges better than Jungwoo. Jaehyun worried that you two would actually marry so he shipped himself off for a vacation to avoid seeing you walk down the aisle. He was content when he returned home and learned you were still single.

“Marrying you would tarnish my reputation. I cannot imagine the other ladies respecting the woman who ties herself to the world’s most infamous rake.”

He falters at the insult from you. When his mother had approached him with the idea to marry you, she expected him to swiftly turn it down, so it came as a surprise that he accepted the deal fairly quickly. He honestly could not stand the thought of you marrying the boring Kim Doyoung. The man would not understand how to entertain you, how to keep you on your toes and humor you.

He would never say it out loud, but the prospect of you becoming his wife satisfied him. He could already picture you running his estate with an iron fist, organizing the awful ledgers he has to sort through and checking if each member of the staff is well taken care of.

He wants it. He wants to wake up next to you. He wants to dance with you when there is no one else around. He wants to bury himself into you, listen to your sweet little moans as he tangles a hand through your hair-

He shakes his head to ward away the lewd thoughts threatening to crawl forward. The music slowly comes to a lull, and before he can stop you, you are darting out of his grasp and heading towards the balcony.

He sees your mother attempt to follow you but he stops her with the raise of his hand. He shadows you, keeping his eyes trained on the floral pattern of your gown.

He stops when you saunter out, slamming the doors shut behind you as you lean over the railing to catch your breath. He observes you silently, watching as you sigh and run your fingers through your hair, taking it out of its neat updo.

He waits a little before joining you in the open space.

“I did not realize I would become such a burden for you,” he whispers as you stand side by side.

You scowl at him. “How did you think I would react? Did you think I would jump into your arms and you would carry me off into the sunset?”

“You hate all of the gentlemen in the ton. You have to concede to this fact. And I understand I am not better than the rest of them, but you know me. I would never bend your will or coerce you into submission. You will be free to do as you please, I will not prevent you from your happiness.”

“But you are preventing me! Does this not register with you? I do not want to marry you. You must feel the same way, do you not?”

He hesitates, and the brief second seems to confirm your answer. You exhale and your hands tighten their grip on the railing.

“How long?” You ask in a small voice.

He swallows. “I do not know.”

“I cannot marry you, Jaehyun.”

“I shall inform my mother of your decision tonight. I apologize for causing you grief.”

You spin and saunter back into the ballroom, leaving Jaehyun’s heart crumpled into a mess on the floor.

—

Jaehyun plans to escape his troubles by embarking on a year-long vacation.

Perhaps it is enough time to move on from you, to stop worrying about you all the time and wondering who you might be with. His announcement to the staff about ending your engagement before it has even come to life has his mother in tears. They were instructed to halt all preparations for your wing of the estate and to eat whatever stock of food they had purchased for you.

He’s barely holding himself together as he packs up his things, intent on leaving and not coming back until he is ready to face high society again.

“Lord Jeong, you have a visitor at the door.”

“I am fairly occupied,” he says without missing a beat, grabbing any article of clothing he can find and throwing it into his suitcase.

But then they tell him that you are the one waiting by the door, and that has his feet moving swiftly.

You are fidgeting in the foyer, squirming as members of his household staff walk around you, carrying pieces of the decor that was meant for your bedroom.

“Lord Jeong,” you say with a curtsy, and his eyebrows furrow from the contrast of your behavior last night to today.

“How may I help you?” He asks coldly, desperately wanting to distance himself from you. You never make any task easy for him.

“I wanted to continue our conversation.”

“I did not think there was much more to say. You made your feelings very clear.”

“May we speak in private?”

He guides you into his office, leaving the door open an inch in an effort not to compromise you. You clear your throat once you are alone.

“I have thought it over and have decided to accept your proposal.”

He narrows his eyes. “You have decided to accept? Forgive me, but the last time we spoke, you distinctly voiced your opposition to marrying me. What has changed?”

You look away, your mouth twisting in the way it does when you are particularly peeved by him.

“You are right,” you admit begrudgingly. “I do not like any of the gentlemen in the ton, and I fear I never will. At least with you, I shall still have my freedom and get my mother off my back. I cannot stand another season of this — the balls, the dresses, the constant dancing. I am tired and I just want to live.”

The tension in his shoulders starts to fade. It is not exactly what he wants to hear, but he will take your acceptance if it means he does not have to leave for a year just to forget you.

“So we are carrying through with this?”

You purse your lips. “I cannot fall in love with you. Not in the way you want me to.”

He nods. “T-That is perfectly fine. I was not expecting you to.”

“And we will forgo childbearing until it is absolutely necessary.”

“That sounds plausible.”

“And Yerim is allowed to come over whenever it suits her.”

“Of course.”

You chew on your bottom lip and he resists the urge to take it in between his teeth.

“Where is my ring?”

He blinks twice. “Forgive me?”

“My ring. You must have one picked out.”

He pats his pockets but blanches when he realizes he’s not carrying his mother’s ring with him.

“Can you wait here for a second?”

He sprints upstairs to his mother’s room, startling her handmaidens when he pounds on her door. She opens it with wide eyes.

“Jaehyun, what-”

“Where is your ring?” He asks breathlessly. “The one that father gave you?”

“In my jewelry box. Why?”

“May I have it? Now? Please?”

She fumbles around to look for it, and Jaehyun bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits, fearful that if he does not get that ring on your finger, you shall disappear through the front door and he will never see you again. As soon as his mother hands him the band, he runs back down to his office, relieved when he sees you still standing by the window.

He drops to one knee in front of you and you stare back at him, unamused. He decides to skip the speech in case you change your mind, slipping the ring on your finger as you admire the diamond sparkling in the light.

“It is beautiful,” you murmur, and he thanks the heavens for your approval. You lower your hand as you state, “I shall not attend another lousy ball just for show. We shall wed as soon as we can and negotiate the details after.”

Like a puppy chasing after its tail, he submits to your every request, dreaming of you and him under one roof.

—

The next week is chaos in the Jeong household.

Members of the staff rush left and right, preparing themselves for a wedding they thought had been called off. The favorite gossip of the ton have been surrounding your wedding, pertaining to why you were getting married this quickly, how you went from despising one another to falling in love, and if tying the knot would finally promote Jaehyun from being a rake to a proper lord.

Jaehyun is keen to sit back and watch it all unfold. He has barely seen you as you have been wrapped up in dress fittings and moving your belongings into his home.

It is only the night before your wedding that you rush to his office in a panicked state.

He is startled when the door swings open and you stand there in nothing but your nightgown. You hold a candle in your hand as you scurry to his side.

“What-” he starts, wondering what could be troubling you.

“My mother has divulged to me what a husband is meant to do to his wife on the night of their wedding. I shall inform you that I do not approve of such indiscretions, if that was not made clear before.”

His cheeks flush red when it dawns on him what you must be referring to. Yes, he has conjured up many fantasies late at night, but he never assumed you would willingly lie with him on your first night together as husband and wife.

“Y-Yes, that is understood.”

“Furthermore, I shall not become the wife who sits idly by while you run to a brothel to satisfy your needs. You shall only lie with me, when I feel I am prepared and ready to accept you.”

He leans back in his seat, one eyebrow raised. “Do you think so low of me that I would disrespect you in such a public fashion?”

You huff. “Jaehyun, I am astonished that you have not done so already.”

He narrows his eyes. Before he can retort, the door bursts wide open again and your handmaiden comes rushing in.

“I apologize profusely, Lord Jeong!” She cries. “We were not made aware of her destination. You are not meant to see her like this-”

“You do not need to apologize to him, Seulgi,” you interject with a sigh. “And he shall learn to see all sides of me soon enough.”

Your handmaiden stutters for a response but you poke your finger at Jaehyun with a stern gaze.

“Do not dare forget what I said.”

“How can I when you come traipsing through here in the middle of the night, disturbing me before the biggest day of our lives?”

You exit with a dramatic flair, slamming the doors behind you as your handmaiden follows after. He slumps in his chair, exhausted and wondering how far he has to go to earn your trust.

His mother wakes him the next morning bright and early, chirping happily for the marriage she has waited years for. He readies himself on his own, pulling on his stuffy suit and tie. He thinks about how you must be faring with the glitz and glamour.

His mother and yours had invited almost the entire population of the city to the wedding. People that Jaehyun has never met in his life greet him at the chapel, congratulating him for the momentous occasion. He thanks them with a nervous smile, worried if you will actually show up at the end of the aisle.

Thankfully, when the music plays and the doors open, you step out, dressed in a long, satin white gown. He loses his breath when he looks at you, the picture perfect beauty of a bride. You hesitate under the scrutiny of the ton’s gazes, tightening your grip around your father’s arm.

Jaehyun inhales and exhales slowly. His heart is beating so hard that he can hear the thumping echo in his ears. He can hardly believe this day has come, and even more so that you agreed to marry him.

You must be running through the same thought process, for when your father hands you over to Jaehyun, you stare at him wide eyed. He takes your hand in his, soothing you by running his thumb over the back of your wrist. It unwinds you a little when you stand in front of the priest.

The priest drones on and on about eternal love and the sacred vow between husband and wife. Jaehyun keeps his eyes trained on you, watching you from the corner of his eye to ensure you are faring well.

When you turn to him to seal your lips in a kiss, his heart stops beating.

“Breathe,” he whispers just before his mouth touches yours. He can feel you trembling in his hold.

“Why do they have to keep looking at us?” You murmur.

“Because you are too pretty for them to look away.”

“You are full of it, Lord Jeong.”

His tongue traces over your bottom lip before he can stop himself. A couple’s first kiss at their wedding should be a light peck, something God would approve of.

Jaehyun does not give a damn what God thinks.

There is a small gasp in the audience when his tongue slips into your mouth. You arch into him, calm for the first time in hours.

When you break away, you blink up at him, and his curiosity flares up. Did it feel good for you too?

The crowd erupts in applause and you step away from him, smiling shyly at them. Jaehyun kicks into autopilot, walking you back down the aisle as you laugh with the people surrounding you.

When you are escorted into the gardens for your reception, he swallows.

“Well, it is over.”

You purse your lips. “Y-Yes. That kiss was-”

Your mother comes around the corner, crying as she envelops you in a hug. You pat her back awkwardly as she sobs.

“Oh, darling, I am so happy for you! So, so happy!”

Then Jaehyun’s mother mobs him, cooing about how handsome he looks. You find yourselves on opposite ends of the large space, controlling the flock of people who demand to know the next steps of your marriage.

Jaehyun fields questions left and right that are clearly an invasion of his privacy.

“How many children do you two want to have?”

“I think the best time to start making babies is right after the wedding. It’s when your hormones are at their peak. Do you not agree, Lord Jeong?”

“My theory is that you should lock yourselves away for at least two months so the seed will sprout and grow. Does that not sound wonderful?”

By the time he finds his way back to you, you both are worse for wear.

“Lord Jeong, Lady Jeong!”

You grab Jaehyun’s hand and sprint into the hedge maze. He tries not to trip over your skirt as you weave through the walls of the garden, catching your breath once you find yourselves trapped in the middle.

“They are incessant vultures!” You hiss, ripping the veil from your hair and tossing it to the side. “I mean, honestly. Who granted them the authority to decide when and how I should have a child?”

“Lady Baek almost gave me advice on how her husband gets it up! As if I need to hear such disturbing counsel regarding a man about to turn seventy!” He grunts.

You shudder. “We shall camp out here until they have all grown too tired to stick around. What was my mother thinking when she invited that many people?”

You collapse on the ground together, paying no mind to the grass stains covering your dress or the dirt coating the bottom of his pants. You listen to the steady sound of each other’s breathing, grateful to be away from the incessant noise.

He clears his throat. “What were you saying earlier? About the kiss?”

You cough. “Oh, um, nothing. It was merely surprising, that is all.”

“Sorry if I did not live up to your expectations.”

“That was not what I meant,” you mumble, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. “I hardly expected you to kiss me so… passionately. In all of the weddings I have attended, the groom never devours his bride like that.”

“I did not devour you,” he corrects, flustered by your accusation.

A moment passes before you burst into a fit of laughter. He should be mad with you, but when he glances over to see you giggling into your palm, he finds the corners of his lips lifting upwards.

You settle into your harmonious laughter for a few minutes, riding on the blissful cloud of your new marriage. He did not think it had become such a huge burden on his shoulders, but he is relieved he no longer has to deal with mingling in crowded ballrooms, debating on whether he should ask you to dance or leave entirely.

The recollection has him springing to his feet. You stare up at him in confusion when he holds out his hand.

“Join me.”

“You cannot be serious, Jaehyun.”

He clicks his tongue. “I obliged to all of your rules. Come here and dance with me.”

You grumble as he helps pull you up. Once you are in his arms, he wraps a hand around your waist, holding you steady as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

The moonlight dances over your features and he swears he has never seen a sight more beautiful.

“Yerim was telling me something the other day that I found interesting,” you say.

He quirks up an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“That you only attend balls when I am present. And that you will speak about me to anyone who will listen.”

“Do not let it go to your head,” he teases weakly.

You do not allow him to escape that easily because evidently, you love to embarrass him at any given chance.

“How long, Jaehyun?”

He thinks about the night out on the balcony when you were asking him this question with the intention to break his heart and never return.

“A long time,” he confesses. “Likely when we first met.”

You shake your head. “Why? Why me? Out of all the women in the ton-”

“The rest of the women in the ton could never hold a candle to you,” he swears, looking deep into your eyes, hoping you memorize every word. “I know you think of me as a reckless rake who will insert myself into any woman’s bed, but you must know how devoted I am to you. You are the only person I find myself laughing with, the only person who can keep up with me and drive me insane all at once. I dream of you. I understand this marriage is all a means to an end to you, but you are the only lady I have ever wanted.”

He nearly chokes when you pounce on him, smashing your lips together until he’s stumbling back into the hedges. His hands rest on your hips as you chase after him.

Your tongues fight for dominance and he realizes just how hungry he is. He has been holding himself back to preserve your dignity, but with God as his witness, you are now his wife and he gets to make you writhe in pleasure if it is his sole desire.

He bunches up your skirt, slipping his hand underneath the mountains of fabric. He growls when your corset gets in the way of the prize he really wants.

“Get this off,” he hisses, tugging at the tight strands that hug your bodice.

“Our mothers will come looking for us,” is all you can reply with.

“I do not care,” he says. “I need you.”

But a gasp interrupts your fervent entanglement. You jump apart to see his mother standing in front of you, appalled by the sight of you two.

“Jeong Jaehyun, I raised you to be a gentleman!” She scolds, approaching you and helping you look presentable again. You avoid her glare. “You both need a lesson in understanding what is acceptable for you to do in public. Just because you are married does not give you the right to behave like animals!”

She tugs you away with a huff, and Jaehyun’s head crashes against the hedge, his cock aching to be stuffed inside you.

—

You are avoiding your husband.

You do not know what has gotten into you. At first, you were loathing the creature you were forced to marry, hoping one day he would magically incinerate and you could avoid having to call him your husband. But then he was confessing to you, telling you everything a lady has always wanted to hear.

It is the first time you have ever experienced the spark of attraction to a gentleman. It is the first time you became content in getting married. It is the first time you felt… desire.

But you are not supposed to let Jeong Jaehyun get the best of you. You hide away in the daytime at Yerim’s home, brushing off her probing questions.

“It’s your honeymoon. Should you not be at home?”

You smile tightly at her. “And miss spending time with you? Of course not. Now, tell me all about Na Jaemin.”

You do not return back to the Jeong estate until supper, where you have a tense gathering with your husband across the dining table. True to his word, Jaehyun refuses to touch you until you initiate it first, which is driving you both mad with insatiable lust.

“How was your day with Yerim?” He asks stiffly, spooning soup into his mouth.

“G-Good. Sir Na has taken a liking to her. He lives in the countryside, however, and I selfishly do not want her to move away if they are to be betrothed.”

“Yes, it might be quite terrible if you were left alone in the presence of your husband with nowhere to flee.”

You narrow your eyes. “If you are insinuating something, Jaehyun, then please do not subject me to your mind games. I would rather you speak the truth.”

He smiles devilishly. “You first.”

You keep your mouth sealed shut for the rest of the meal. Even when you prepare yourselves to climb into bed together, your bedroom is filled with such unspeakable tension that you could cut with a knife.

You occupy yourself by opening a book, observing from the corner of your eye as Jaehyun turns on his side and blows his candle out. You tap your nails against the hardcover, blurting out your next statement before you can stop yourself.

“You never told me about your day.”

He muses over how to reply before he states, “I was lonely, craving a wife who wants nothing to do with me.”

You pout like a child. “I told you I am not going to fall in love with you.”

“I remember.”

It’s summer when Yerim and Jaemin get engaged. Yerim’s mother is so thrilled that she hosts a celebration party, where you and Jaehyun attend arm-in-arm, pretending to be civil with one another. You are bombarded with an onslaught of questions pertaining to how your marriage is faring, and if the ton can expect a new baby boy or girl to arrive any day now.

You stick with the excuse of, “We are trying,” to get them to go away.

Yerim pulls you aside to her bedchamber later that night, smiling widely. The joy in her expression has not left her face all night, and it comforts you to know she will be taken care of in the countryside, despite being so far from you.

“What a night!” She exclaims, falling on her mattress in glee. “I have never been this happy before, I swear it to you.”

“I can tell,” you laugh, patting her knee. “It satisfies me to know Jaemin has you this giddy.”

She chews her lip when she sits up, and she has the expression on her face that screams she has a secret.

“Can I tell you something? In the confidence of our friendship?”

“Of course,” you say, sitting next to her on the bed.

She twiddles her thumbs, clearly thrumming with nervousness. “The other day, Jaemin and I were alone.”

You gasp. “Yerim! You are not supposed to be with him unchaperoned until after you are wed!”

Her cheeks bloom a bright shade of red. “We did a lot of things we are supposed to do after we are wed.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and the prompt scolding you are about to give her dies down in your throat.

“W-What did he do?”

“Amazing things,” she exhales dreamily. “Do you know how good it feels when they put their mouth… down there?”

“Yerim!” You say, scandalized.

She giggles. “So you and Jaehyun still have not-”

“No,” you confirm with the shake of your head. “No, we have not. And we will not until we absolutely need to.”

She nudges your shoulder. “He is your husband now, you know. Not a rake who is looking to bed you just because he can.”

You clear your throat and rise from your spot on the bed. “We should head back downstairs. People might be searching for you.”

She’s slightly downcast by your quick dismissal but follows you without protest. You are warm from the brief discussion, imagining what Jaehyun would look like nestled in between your thighs, staring up at you with unadulterated hunger.

The vision abruptly leaves your mind once you land on the last step, spotting your husband being flanked by Sooyoung, a girl he used to be very friendly with. She is giggling at him, her hand caressing his bicep as she hangs off his every word.

You freeze, your throat growing dry at your husband openly flirting with another lady in front of you. In Jaehyun’s defense, he does not seem to be paying any attention to her, his eyes fluttering around the room.

When he finds you, you dart towards the exit, ignoring both Yerim and Jaehyun’s cries of your name. As you request for your carriage to be brought forward, a hand wraps around your wrist.

“You have made assumptions.”

You tear your hand away from Jaehyun with a glare. “I hardly care who you speak to. I am going home, the party’s over.”

He growls your name and the staff lingering nearby pretend to look disinterested.

“Do not behave like this.”

Once your carriage rolls up, you climb in, refusing Jaehyun’s help. You try to close the door behind you but your husband pushes his way inside, preventing you from making your dramatic escape.

“I do not possess any feelings for Sooyoung,” he sighs. “I never have.”

“I do not care! I am merely humiliated by the fact that you would display your affection for her in front of everyone! I know those people, Jaehyun, and I strictly told you before we were married that I would not become the wife who would stand idly by while her husband is wrapped up in an affair!”

“I am not in an affair!” You are both screaming too loud to hide your troubles from the outside. “I have never had an affair. I am devoted to you! I dream of you! How many times must I say this to you? Sooyoung approached me, asking me how I have been. I told her I was not interested in her folly and I was waiting for your return. What took you so long with Yerim anyways?”

You are riled up with anger and frustration. “She was educating me about how a proper husband takes care of his wife. Tell me, did you ever get on your knees for Sooyoung? Did you press your mouth in between her thighs?”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline, clearly not expecting you to quip back with that. You fold your arms across your chest, pouting and refusing to look at him.

You gasp when his hands suddenly pull up your dress and he sinks to his knees. You back yourself up against the wall of the carriage.

“Jaehyun, what are you doing?” You hiss.

“If you wanted to know what it feels like, you could have just asked.”

You glance around worriedly but the carriage still moves on, and the drapery covering the windows protects anyone from the outside to witness your husband wiggling his way underneath your dress.

You do not stop him, interested in how determined he is to prove himself to you. Your fingertips dart out to hold the sides of the carriage when his lips graze over your core.

You cup a hand over your mouth to keep your moans at bay. You have never dared to touch yourself in your most sensitive area. It’s unseemly for a lady of your status, and you feel as if you shall be damned to hell if you ever crossed that line.

But Jaehyun is your husband, so this must be allowed in heaven, right?

You lurch forward when his tongue runs over your folds. You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he starts to lick at your dripping cunt. He laps at you as if you are his next meal and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You are entirely too sensitive that you could cry, your body shuddering as Jaehyun buries himself deeper into your pussy.

The carriage comes to a halt as you sob, your hands tangling into his hair as your peak washes over you. When he pops his head back up, he’s grinning with your slick covering his chin.

“How was it, my dear wife?”

“Get inside the house.”

The staff are flustered when you scramble past them. Jaehyun’s hands dig into the flesh of your waist as he leads you inside, dismissing the staff by hoisting you up on the singular table in the foyer, knocking down his mother’s favorite vase.

You bring his mouth to yours as the spark inside you bursts into flames. Months of tension finally unravel as he pushes your thighs apart, slotting himself in until he’s rolling down into your core.

“Jaehyun,” you whine. “Please.”

“Did Yerim tell you what men can do with their fingers?” He asks, his bottom lip dragging over your jawline.

“N-No.”

You squeak when he unlaces your corset, practically ripping it in half in his efforts to peel it off of you. His mouth is drawn to the swell of your breasts, taking your exposed nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud.

A maid comes from around the corner at the sound of the broken glass from the vase, but she chokes when she sees her employers dangling off a tiny table, enraptured in one another.

When he slips a finger inside you, you’re driven wild with lust. None of the noble lords and ladies would recognize you if they saw you now, encouraging your husband to use his teeth while sucking at your breasts and begging him to stuff more fingers inside your cunt.

“Dear God,” you sob when his thumb circles at your clit.

You have never felt pleasure like this in your entire life. Is this why women get married? Is this why they subject themselves to uncomfortable corsets and boring dances?

“You like it, do you not?” He questions in a mocking tone, hovering over you with a darkened gaze. “Imagine how we could have had this months ago if you had only swallowed your pride. Falling in love with me does not sound so horrifying anymore, does it?”

His teeth sink into the juncture of your neck as you chant his name. You cum when he inserts another digit inside your wet hole, curling his fingers forward, causing you to feel boneless in his grasp.

“I will not have our first time be like this,” he says, licking his fingers clean and carrying you in his arms.

“The bedroom is too far,” you reply, wanting to jump his bones immediately.

He chuckles. “You made me wait months. I think you can handle a few minutes.”

The room is spotless when you walk in, making you feel slightly guilty for ruining the staff’s hard work. But then Jaehyun drops you on the mattress and unlaces his breeches, and your focus hones in on his lower half. Your vision grows heavy when he reveals himself.

You never quite understood what gentlemen were packing down there, but you surely never would have guessed this. His member is long, thick, and veiny, startling you when he wraps a hand around his base.

“W-What are you planning to do with that?”

He laughs. “My wife, this is meant to go inside you.”

Your brain stops working for a second. He senses your hesitance, smiling playfully as he leans over you, kissing you gently.

“I shall take it slow. It shall feel good once you get used to the stretch.”

“Do you promise?” You say timidly.

He nods. “It helps that you are already so wet.” You scoff when he swipes his fingers over the wetness coating your thighs. He kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find, helping you loosen up to take his massive cock. “It is going to hurt the first time, but I swear it will get easier.”

“Who said we would be doing this again?” You inquire.

His chuckle vibrates against the shell of your ear. “Trust me. We shall definitely do this again.”

He lines himself up to your entrance, distracting you with a kiss. You never believed kissing could be worthwhile, but you find that you do not mind the act at all when it comes to your husband.

But Christ, is he trying to split you in half?

“Hurts,” you whimper as he gradually pushes in.

He stops immediately. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head. “No, no. Just… make it feel better.”

“You like it when I touch you here,” he says, returning his thumb to your clit, rubbing the nub in slow circles.

You close your eyes, powering through the overwhelming pain with the small windows of pleasure. Jaehyun does not appear to be experiencing the same issues, gritting his teeth when he bottoms out.

“You are squeezing me too tightly,” he groans. “Ease up a little, wife. I am going to finish before we have truly started.”

“I cannot! You are intent in destroying me!” You retort.

“Fuck,” he curses, dropping his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. “Tell me when I should start moving.”

“Moving?” You pale. “Is this not the entire thing?”

“I thought your mother explained this to you the night before our wedding?”

“She never discussed the specifics!”

His hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. You blink back the tears threatening to spill and he smiles at you, assuring you that everything is going to be okay.

“Do you trust me? You must trust me a little at this point.”

“A little,” you grumble. “Don’t push your luck.”

He moves to sit on his knees, throwing your legs over his shoulders and holding them in place while he thrusts into you. Initially, he’s apologizing for the pain, but you slowly adjust to his size and your wetness begins to emit a thwacking sound against the flesh of his thighs.

Moans spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“That is it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

You would not think that Jaehyun’s praise would have such an effect upon you. You are whining for him as his cock batters into your pussy, staining the sheets with the mix of your wetness.

“I shall not last,” he says through bated breaths. “You are squeezing me too tightly.”

Moments later, he spills into you, filling you with the warmth of his cum. He withdraws himself to replace his length with his fingers, swirling them inside your cunt until you are falling over the edge of your third climax.

He collapses next to you, his chest rising up and down. You gaze at him shyly.

“So when shall the baby come?”

He smiles at you. “It normally does not take the first time. We have to keep trying until you feel the babe start to grow.”

You narrow your eyes. “You are surely making that up.”

He winks. “Trust me. We shall practice until you acquire a taste for it.”

—

You and Jaehyun apologize profusely to the staff the next day for your behavior, but they simply smile and tell you to work hard in your baby making efforts.

You are both startled when you approach the breakfast table to see his mother sitting there, sipping on her morning cup of tea.

“M-Mother?” Jaehyun stutters. “What are you doing here? I thought you were away handling matters of the estate.”

She smiles knowingly at you, and you slink behind your husband’s back, feeling like a child who has been scolded for eating too many treats.

“I wanted to check in on you. I arrived last night.”

“Last night?” You and Jaehyun both question in shock.

You recall his messy display of fingering you in the foyer for everyone to witness. Did his mother see her son ravaging you? Did she watch you fall apart under his touch?

Her grin seems to convey your answer. She gestures to the chairs beside her.

“Come and sit. I want to hear all about my future grandchild.”

You return to your bedchamber after breakfast feeling mortified. Jaehyun tries to soothe your worries with a gentle hand at your back.

“It is very normal for a husband and wife to be intimate.”

“Not for a lady to expose herself in front of her mother-in-law and the staff!”

He winces. “I am certain that they found the scene to be arousing, if anything.”

You dig your head into the pillows, pouting. “You fail at lifting up my spirits.”

You feel him peppering kisses over your shoulder, his hands wandering where they should not be. You try to swat them away but he whines in your ear.

“She already knows about us anyway. Let me have a little fun.”

You turn on your side to face him, grazing your fingers over his cheek. You hate that Yerim was right — your husband is very handsome.

“When I said I would never fall in love-”

“It is fine. I understand.”

“No, no,” you correct, tracing his jawline. “I was going to say that I think I could. If you give me enough time and if you do not act like an insufferable rake, I could see myself loving you.”

He smirks. “I am quite flattered.”

You roll your eyes. “Can you do that thing with your mouth again?”

“Happy to oblige, wife.”

I. THE CHASE

Heavy breathing. The cold night air. His heart is pounding. He looks back for the third time. Sees the blue lights of the police car behind him. And quickens his pace. He needs to hide. Fast.

The police officer shouts for him to stop running, not letting off his pursuit. But he doesn´t listen. He can´t get caught.

Thankfully, luck is on his side. He rounds the corner. Jumps down a flight of stairs. Climbs up the wall of the small alleyway. And rounds another corner, not slowing his pace. There it is. A small store with the lights still on. A midnight cafe.

He sprints towards it. Pushes open the door with too much force. And hides behind the counter. He doesn´t give an ounce of attention to the barista staring at him in shock as he tries to catch his breath.

The young girl—you—just stands in shock, overwhelmed by what just happened. You were just minding your business, going about your tasks like any other shift. And then he crashes through the door, jumps over the counter, and hides behind it like it´s the most natural thing to do.

You are still holding the freshly cleaned mug, drying it with a towel, when a police officer storms in a minute later. He is out of breath too, and looks around frantically before he spots you.

You stop in your tracks, facing him like a deer in headlights. Then the man speaks to you with urgency. “Have you seen some guy with red hair pass by? Young, roughly this tall, dark clothes.” The officer states and demonstrates standard data, matching the guy who is sitting a meter away from you, clutching his mouth to keep quiet.

He looks at you pleadingly. You barely see it in the corner of your eyes. On instinct, you shake your head. “No, sir. I haven´t.” Your voice sounds steady and unfazed. The policeman in front of you nods slowly. He seems skeptical.

“Mind if I take a quick look around?” he asks, just to make sure he isn't missing anything, in case you are lying.

The question makes the guy’s eyes go wide. He fears this is it. He is already surprised that you covered for him. But before he can worry and look for another quick escape route, you act faster. You pull a cabinet door open, hiding his figure, and put away the mug as if that´s the place it belongs. “Sure, go ahead.”

You don´t close the door, and instead make sure to push whoever this stranger is further down to hide his figure while the officer starts roaming through the small cafe. He looks behind the chairs and even looks into the storage room. When he returns, not having found what he is looking for, he sighs. “Sorry for the intrusion. If you see anything suspicious in the area, please call 911 and let us know.” He excuses himself and then turns to leave the cafe.

Once the door shuts, you slam the counter door closed. You don´t look at him yet, but you are ready to bombard the stranger with questions. “It´s clear.” Your voice rings in his ears when you no longer see the officer outside.

The guy slowly gets up and peers over the counter, not fully trusting your words. But when he doesn´t see anything, he fully stands up. He looks at you, ready to say something. But the way you look at him—fierce eyes, and an expression that demands an explanation—has him swallow away any word he was about to mutter.

“So, mind telling me what your business is? Clearly, you aren´t here to buy a drink.” Your arms cross in front of your chest as you stare him down. In any other situation, you would probably take a step back, given the fact that he looks rough and ready to beat someone up. But you are full of adrenaline, so you can´t care less at the moment.

The guy, sporting some bruises and cuts on his face, red hair straying in many directions, and clothes that scream street gang, regains his composure and leans on the counter now. “There isn´t anything to explain.”

The way he dryly answers you leaves you unsatisfied. So you step closer to the door, ready to open it and go outside. “Officer?! There´s someone-” A hand wraps around your mouth and pulls you back against a broad chest.

“Fine! For fucks sake, shut up. Will you?” he scolds and cautiously looks towards the door, afraid the policeman heard you.

When he lets go of you, you turn and look at him, expecting an answer this time. “This is the least you can do, since I covered for you. Tell me what´s up.” Your demand makes him roll his eyes. Why the fuck does he need to justify himself in front of a stranger?

“You are better off not knowing anything.” He still doesn´t give you an answer. This pisses you off, however.

“Yah! I wanna know if I just helped a drug dealer or murderer hide from the police. That´s all. If the neighborhood gets a whim of this, I might get fired for helping a criminal,” you argue, not in the mood to lose your job. You know word spreads fast, and you are not willing to suffer negative consequences.

The boy exhales, exhausted. "I didn´t do shit. But they chased me anyway. Because someone falsely blamed me. There. Happy now?”

You take in his words and think them over. Spotting lies isn´t your biggest strength, but you wanna say you are good enough to at least know if someone is totally messing with you. “Hmph. Fine. If you are done hiding, mind leaving the cafe now? You are scaring away my customers.”

“Pff, what customers? There is no one on the streets at this hour,” he says, amused. This time, he is the one crossing his arms. But now that the adrenaline from the chase is wearing off, he can feel the burn in his legs and the cuts on his face sting a lot more.

“I don’t care. If you aren´t here to buy anything, you can leave. I am not getting paid enough for this kind of shit.” You sound quite annoyed now, which he notes. You move to finish drying the remaining mugs waiting near the sink and start ignoring him.

Out of curiosity, and because he knows he has to wait a little more until he can leave safely, he starts looking around the place. It´s a cozy little cafe, decorated with astronomy-themed things, emphasizing the concept of a cafe open throughout the night. He can´t believe people actually come and visit. But what does he know? He doesn´t usually roam around these areas. It´s too bougie for him, even if it´s just the suburbs.

When you turn around to put away the last mug and see him touch a vase he isn´t supposed to, you hurry over and snatch the piece from him. “Don´t touch that! It might break. Don´t you have manners?” Your voice sounds scolding, much to his amusement.

“Is the little princess seriously afraid I might break something? For your information. I'm not a toddler. Let me look around,” he argues.

“No. I told you to leave. And you can´t even listen to that. Why would I trust you with anything else? I don´t even know you.” Carefully, you place the vase back in its original place. Then you stare at him with a venomous look. “Leave.”

He returns your stare with one of nonchalance and then shrugs. “Fine. If it satisfies scared little Missy, I will leave.” With that, he finally starts moving towards the door. He stops right in front of it, though, and shortly looks back. “See you around.” Then he vanishes into the darkness, leaving you behind with more frustration than earlier when you started your shift.

“See you around, my ass,” you mumble to yourself, still a bit agitated by his audacity to ruin your night like this. Who does he think he is?

II. THE STRANGER ROAMING AROUND

Throughout the next few weeks, you keep seeing him here and there. Whenever you start your shifts, he would appear a bit later and sit down somewhere. Be it right in front of the cafe, across the street, or around the corner of the cafe, where the dark alley that occupies the trash cans sits.

At first, you ignored him, not in the mood for another confrontation. But then you noticed some customers mentioning a suspicious figure. And when the words “red” and “bruised” came to your ears, you knew they were talking about him specifically.

So when your boss informs you about the decline in revenue for those weeks, you´ve had enough. You want this to stop. Because at the end of the day, you will get less pay that month.

With certainty in your step, you walk outside to where the trash cans are. There he is, scrolling through his phone, sitting on the wall as if that´s his usual hangout spot. He doesn´t pay attention to your presence at first, seeing as you usually ignore him as well. But when you persist and don´t go back inside like all the other times, he finally looks up.

The surprise on his face is clear to you, even though you don´t understand it. The way you cross your arms and look at him, ready to scold him, doesn´t faze him much, either. And when he puts his phone away, ready to listen to whatever you have to say as if you are some friend ready to tell a story, you kind of explode.

“What the fuck is your deal here? Go away!” You almost yell. Almost. But because you don´t want to gain unnecessary attention, you stop yourself the second before.

“Hmm? Am I not allowed to sit here?” he asks, innocently.

“No! You aren´t allowed anywhere near this place at all. You are scaring away my customers!” The stern and serious expression on your face hardens. He is too casual for your liking.

“Whoa, didn´t know y´all had rules around here. Is it some area where only the upper class is allowed to visit?” The sudden disdain when he asks this hits you off guard.

“What? No. That's not what I meant-”

“Then I can sit wherever I want. Unless you own the whole street, which I doubt you do.” His phone is back in his hands after he says this, leaving you stunned.

“Urgh, sit somewhere else. I mean it. You are scaring away customers. And we can´t afford that.” You try again, but he doesn´t spare you any of his attention this time. “Why are you even here to begin with? I thought this wasn´t your usual area.”

"It's not,” he bluntly agrees. It has you even more confused. You are ready to ask another question, but he starts talking again. “It´s calmer here, though. And I need time to free my mind.”

His words leave you thinking. You can´t dictate his whereabouts. And his reasoning is hard to argue with. It wrecks your brain a bit because you still need him to stop scaring people. So that´s how you come up with a simple proposition. “At least buy something to drink and sit down inside, instead of roaming around like a thug. People aren´t used to that here.”

Your suggestion surprises him. He didn't expect you to invite him in like that. It steals a chuckle from him. But his answer disappoints you and makes your face drop. “Can´t. It´s too expensive.”

Defeated and done with his shit, you exhale and let your shoulders sink. With a roll of your eyes, you head back inside to resume your job. After all, you already wasted too much time on this talk.

When he later decides to sit in front of the cafe on one of the benches on the sidewalk to watch the cars drive by and make the time pass, you notice. How can you not? That fiery, red hair is hard to miss. Even when the darkness of the night slowly settles.

Thinking back on his words, you simply prepare a drink. Your fingers move quickly, going by the routine you have memorized as if it´s a habit. Your steps carry you outside a minute later, cup in hand. You set it down beside him and mutter simple words. “Get your ass inside soon. It´s getting cold at night.” Then you return inside to continue your work tasks like any other night.

The drink sits there for about 10 minutes before he actually takes it. At first, he wanted to ignore it, but it would be a waste not to at least try. Eventually, his head even turns to look at you. He watches your figure serve customers with this gentle but tired smile before you return to prepare another drink for someone waiting at the counter.

Before you can look at him, feeling as if someone watches you, he gets up and takes his leave. When the cold liquid hits his tongue, he is surprised by the taste. And he has to admit, strawberry milk is something he likes more than he thought.

III. A NAME

With repetition grows a habit. And with a habit, a routine establishes itself. The red-haired guy keeps showing up, sitting in front of the cafe, but never coming inside. It´s less frequent than at the start. But by the time month 2 hits, you recognize a pattern. It´s the days when he looks especially rough when he shows up. You still don´t know his name. But regardless of that, you set down a drink next to him and go back inside without a word.

He never gets the chance to say anything to you, either. But he is thankful nonetheless. He came to appreciate the gesture, even craving your drinks at certain times in his free time.

It´s one of your usual late shifts this time. The stranger in front of your cafe has long left, like any other customer. You are taking out some garbage when you hear a loud crash. Alerted, you drop the bag into the trash can quickly and head inside.

You can already feel the adrenaline in your system as you enter the front area of the cafe again. There is a chair fallen over, and the door is still creaking while in its last swings of coming to a standstill. You notice the vase that usually stands in the corner in pieces on the floor, and next to it, a small trail of blood.

Following the red dots on the floor, you come to find someone fairly familiar on the ground in your storage room. He seems to be looking for something. You cross your arms, as you seemingly do often, and clear your throat. “The heck are you doing?”

His head shoots around, surprised to hear your voice. He looks messed up, as always, and holds his hand with a tissue. “Sorry. This place was the only thing that came to mind,” he vaguely explains, leaving you with questions.

But then you notice the way the tissue soaks red, which alerts you again, reigniting the rush of adrenaline, even if it is for a different reason this time. “What did you even do?” you ask and hurry over to look at his hand.

At first, he doesn't let you, but when you pry open his hand and give him a stern look, he relents and lets you inspect the wound. There is a clean cut on his palm. It looks fairly fresh. Definitely fresher than the bruises on his face. You act quickly and get the first aid kit.

Ignoring his protests and anything else he says, you take out the necessary things and bandage the wound so the bleeding will stop. Then you throw a towel and a washcloth at him and look him dead in the eye. “Go and clean yourself up a bit. You will scare away potential customers if they see you like this.”

Your persistent worry about customers who never come at this hour has him chuckle. He watches you as you leave the storage room and then takes the items to actually do what you told him to.

When he is done and walks into the front of the cafe, he watches as you still sweep away remaining pieces of the vase he broke when he stumbled inside. “What did I say about not touching anything? Now the vase is broken.” Your sudden comment makes him laugh lightly.

“Sorry about that. I stumbled on my way inside,” he explains, and sits down on one of the chairs.

“What was your mission in the first place?” you ask and look at him, using the broom to steady yourself as you lean on it a little.

“I wanted to order a drink,” he tells you, as if that was the most obvious thing.

“Sure. The bloke who told me he can´t afford to buy a drink here came in to buy a drink and broke a vase in the process. Then he stumbles into the storage room to seemingly do what? Clean up the mess he made?” Your eyes tell him that you absolutely don´t believe him in any way.

“Exactly. After all, I remembered your concern for the vase. Also wanted to keep my hand from dirtying the floor with my blood even more. You catch on fast,” he returns, voice displaying the obvious sarcasm.

You chuckle at his comment and roll your eyes. It´s the first time he hears you do anything but scold him. “How is your hand? Does it hurt a lot?” you ask, actually concerned.

He simply nods in response. He isn´t one of many words when it comes to injuries. This is something to be expected for him. After all, his face is usually bruised, too.

“Why did you really come inside? You never do, even though I told you to get your ass inside when it´s getting dark outside.” Your voice echoes in his ears, and he remembers the words you said when you brought him a drink for the first time. So he debates about telling the truth.

Out of habit, he starts to play with his fingers, suddenly finding them to be really interesting. He can´t look at you, either, not used to what he is about to do. “I wanted to say thank you.”

That takes you by surprise. You didn´t expect gratitude. “For what?” The question comes out of your mouth by reflex. You know why. But it´s too late. You already asked.

“For giving me free drinks, even though I never asked for them. And covering for me when the police were chasing me,” he mumbles, finally looking at you again as his last words leave his mouth. “And I guess for treating my wound, even though I´m the one who broke a vase. I guess I owe you something.”

His expectant expression sits with you. He clearly wants to know what you want in return for the nice gestures. But there isn´t anything he could possibly give you. At least not of the things you need. Like money or a better life in general. Him acknowledging your friendliness warms your heart, however. Knowing that he kind of appreciates the gestures makes you happy.

“A name. How about you finally tell me your name?” you then suggest, genuinely curious because addressing him as a stranger or a gangster or whatever else you came up with as a nickname for him in your head was getting too weird.

The simple request leaves him speechless for a few seconds. He expected anything but nothing so simple. Usually, people like to exploit him. So this is new.

“It´s Jeno. How about yours?” He returns the question. Out of courtesy. Or maybe because he wants to address you by your name as well, the next time he thanks you for something.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, then, I guess.” You give him a smile. He returns it shortly. Then the silence stretches. And with it, the awkwardness and absurdity of the situation.

“I should leave. Don´t wanna scare away potential income.” His tone is teasing as he gets up. You want to laugh, but then he is out the door before you can say anything.

“What a weird night,” you conclude for yourself. Then you get back to cleaning up.

IV. SURPRISE ENCOUNTER

This time, you are not at the midnight cafe. You work two jobs to hold yourself over water. Life is rough when you can´t rely on anyone. But that´s why you work so hard. The cafe is one thing. Your job at the restaurant around the corner from your house is the other one.

You are leaving through the back door of the restaurant, ready to buy some groceries. The cold fall air hits you as the door shuts behind you with a loud slam. “Eggs, cucumber, bread, white rice, … what else was it?” You had a note somewhere, but your jacket somehow hides it in the deepest corner of your pocket, so you are stuck trying to remember the items as your feet carry you away from the place.

Taking the shortest route to the next supermarket, you keep repeating the words in your mind, in hopes of not forgetting anything. But then, when you want to round another corner, you see someone.

The encounter is unexpected. And seemingly one-sided, as he hasn´t spotted you yet. But what takes you off guard is the sight in front of you. There he is. Hair as messy as ever, clothes a little disheveled. He sticks out like a sore thumb. And on his arm, a small figure, dressed in a fluffy bunny onesie to protect her from the cold.

A little girl, maybe 2 years old, sits on his arm, pointing at a toy in the window of a kids’ store. A million questions shoot through your mind, the groceries on your list completely forgotten. Is that his daughter? Is he a father? But why would he do shady stuff if he is?

There is no way of knowing unless you ask him. But doing that feels wrong. You barely know him. All you know is his name and that he prefers strawberry milk over matcha. You are in no position to ask about his personal life. The fact that you are even seeing him right now is already too much out of the ordinary for you to comprehend.

You keep watching him, standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Passers-by are already muttering words of annoyance as they have to pass you. And then, as if someone in the universe wants to help you with your curiosity, he turns and finally sees you, too. Your eyes grow in surprise. Then you start to malfunction. Your eyes dart around, and with determination, you start to move again, walking into a random store right at the corner.

This is weird. Too weird. The store you are in is nothing close to what your destination is, yet here you are, hiding from a stranger you barely know, simply because you saw him in the city.

Annoyed by your own incapabilities, you rub your face with your hands in frustration. The fuck are you doing? Knowing you need to leave, you turn around and go outside again. Other customers look at you weirdly as you exit the store without buying anything, but you don´t care. You look around. To the toy store, then the other side.

He is gone. Relief shows itself through you letting out a breath you didn´t know you held. Happy you can return to your original mission, you resume your walk, going to the nearest supermarket. On the way, you even find your grocery list. So with newfound happiness about your luck, you continue your day as if this surprise encounter didn´t just happen.

V. KEEPING YOU COMPANY

Another night, and another shift at the night cafe that comes to an end. You are turning the key, inhaling the cold air as you are ready to leave. Happy about the end of a long shift, all you want to do is go home and go to bed. The cafe is a good 20-minute walk from your apartment. Nothing out of the ordinary. But tonight, the streets feel especially eerie. Usually, you aren´t scared when you walk home. Tonight is different.

With quick steps, you start moving down the street. This time, you leave your headphones off, wanting to hear everything around you just in case. The first 5 minutes are fine. Only a few cars pass by. In the distance, a cat makes some noise, shortly startling you, but you keep going.

Then, after silence stretches again, you suddenly hear rustling. Your heartbeat picks up as you fasten your pace, alerted by the sound. Suddenly, footsteps follow you, which makes you even more wary. You grab your keys inside your pocket a bit tighter—just in case—and pick up the pace even more.

When you hear the footsteps get faster, too, you fear tonight is the night you will finally get kidnapped. You round the corner, straying off your usual way back, and listen again. The footsteps are gone. You wonder what the hell that was, but don´t get to think much more about it. After taking some more steps, a figure suddenly jumps out of an alley right in front of you, making you scream in surprise.

A hand covers your mouth to stifle the sound from echoing through the whole neighborhood. And then, when your surprise transforms, and you are ready to swing at whoever just scared you to shits, you recognize the face.

Halting your movements, you exhale heavily the moment his hand leaves your mouth. “Are you insane?! You scared me to shits!” you curse at him in a whisper-yell and glare at him.

Amused by your reaction, he places his hands inside his pockets and chuckles. “Relax. Nothing happened. If you didn´t start to almost run away from me, I wouldn´t have had to take a shortcut and surprise you like that.”

“Oh, so it´s my fault now for being cautious?” you question sarcastically, still looking at him as if he is insane. “Sorry that a girl is scared at night, while walking through the streets. Rightfully so. By all means, you could´ve been a murderer.”

Jeno rolls his eyes because of your dramatic antics. “Well, I saw you pass by, so I thought I would accompany you a bit. To wherever you are going at this time of the day.”

“Oh, how nice of you,” you mock and roll your eyes in return. Your feet start moving again, since you are tired and in need of a good night´s rest. You don´t care much about him, so you just leave him standing there and don´t explain anything further.

He, however, starts following and quickly settles his walking next to you. It´s quiet for the next 3 minutes, and fairly awkward. But you are too focused on your thoughts to really care.

Then, all of a sudden, you remember seeing him with that little girl on his arm the other day. And suddenly, you get curious. You don´t ask right away. But he notices that something is up. So he looks at you, trying to read your expression.

“What is it? What´s on your mind? Talk to me,” he demands, somewhat nicely. His gaze stays focused on you as you take another minute to decide whether to ask your questions or keep him and you in the dark.

“Who was that little girl the other day?” you end up asking, getting straight to the point. The question takes him off guard slightly. And because he doesn´t answer right away, you end up looking at him to try and read his face in return.

“You saw me too, didn´t you?” you add, giving him no chance to divert the conversation in any way. So he sighs in defeat, acknowledging the fact that he has to give you at least a vague answer.

“That was my little sister,” he states, and finally looks ahead to the floor, unable to face you. It´s not that he is embarrassed about you seeing him with her. But rather, that you just don´t know anything. So it´s weird for him to have someone he doesn't know that well, know about someone so important in his life.

“I see,” you answer bluntly, not really knowing what else to say. “Didn´t think you were the type to take care of such small human beings.” Your mouth moves before you can stop it. You don´t mean it rudely, but you fear it still gives off the wrong statement. “Ah, I don´t mean it in a bad way. It´s just … unexpected, given our first encounter.”

“No need to explain yourself. I get what you mean. I don't exactly give off the gentle caretaker vibes,” he says, simply. As if he´s heard this type of judgment before.

Neither of you speaks after that. At least for 2 more minutes. He keeps accompanying you on your walk home. And somehow you feel a lot calmer, now that he is here.

“What´s her name?” your voice reaches his ear again. Surprised by your interest in her and, well, his life, he looks at you.

“Bom. She´s my half sister, technically. So yeah. Whatever.” The way he trails off hints at something, but you don´t ask about his family matters. It´s none of your business. At least, that´s what you think.

“She´s cute. How old is she?” You keep the conversation going, anyway, somehow still wanting to get to know him better. You have a feeling you will keep seeing him in the future, so why not try and build a casual level of knowing each other?

Jeno thinks a little and kicks away a pebble as he keeps walking. “Around two years old. I sometimes take care of her.”

You nod in understanding. It makes sense that she isn´t his full sister. You can only assume. But from what you know about him, and the way he presents himself—full of trouble and ready for something shady—family issues are likely.

The walk continues. Silence fills the air once more as your steps take you closer to home. Eventually, when you finally reach the house you live in, you stop. He takes note of it and stops, too, curiously looking at you.

“Well then. Have a good night,” you say simply, and even wait for a response as you take out the keys you kept holding ever since earlier.

Taking note of your movements, he realizes quickly that you are home. Your sudden goodbye had him confused for just a second. But then he comes to his senses and nods. “Yeah. Good night. See you around,” he mumbles, not really looking at you anymore.

When you unlock the door and turn to go inside, you add, “Thanks for somewhat walking me home.” Then the door shuts.

He watches until the lights shining through the door windows die, turning the hallway black. He starts to move, changing to the other side of the street, ready to leave wherever his feet take him. But somehow, he still takes another look at the house you just entered, and takes note of the apartment that now has windows illuminated with light.

He doesn´t know why, but when he finally leaves the street, he has a smile on his face.

VI. YOU AREN`T SUPPOSED TO BE HERE

Tonight, you don´t have to work at the midnight cafe. Instead, you have a mission to fulfill. Your boss didn´t exactly like the fact that one of the vases in the shop got destroyed. So here you are, ready to fetch a new one you found on facebook marketplace. The app wasn´t something you usually use, but you had no money to buy a brand new one at the store. Besides, trying to find one in a similar design would have been almost impossible because it was a vintage design.

So here you are, walking down an alley that screams danger. In the distance, you can hear the booming bass of a club. There are sounds of people yelling or speaking loudly, too. It´s totally not the area you usually go to, but you have no choice. It´s either this or getting a reduced paycheck from your boss for the destruction of the stupid vase.

You clutch your jacket a little tighter the closer you get to the area of that shady club. The seller gave you an address right around the corner. Inevitably, you have to pass the entrance to the club, though, much to your dismay.

When you are about to round the corner, someone pulls you back and pushes you against the wall, pinning you against it. You wanna shriek in surprise, but when you see who it is, the air stays trapped inside your lungs. At least for a few more seconds.

Big, furious eyes look right into yours as he huffs, visibly stressed. “What the hell are you doing here? It´s dangerous around here!”

A surge of rage rises inside of you as you finally release the air from your lungs with a strong answer. “Can you stop scaring me by just pulling me into alleys or falling over me like some burglar?! I`m a woman thinking I´m about to take my last breath, for fucks sake, Jeno!”

Then you realize what he just said to you, which has you furrow your brows. “Also, who are you to tell me where to go? As far as I know, I´m an adult with autonomy!”

This time, he doesn´t play around, however. Your answer and little fit of rage don't faze him at all, as he stays serious. “This isn´t a nice neighborhood. It´s no place for you. So what are you doing here?” he interrogates, much to your annoyance.

You roll your eyes at him and look to the side, unwilling to explain yourself. After all, you have no reason to do so anyway. “What´s it your business?”

Your mumbling ticks him off a little, and he shortly lets go of you just to kick away an empty bottle lying on the ground. “Fuck, Y/N, you don´t realize where you are, do you?” His hand moves through his red hair in frustration before he faces you again. “You were the one talking about potential murderers and what not, yet here you are, in the most dangerous district of the city. Make it make sense!”

You huff, but unwillingly acknowledge his words. You know you are in dangerous territory, which you really don´t like. But you have no choice. “Urgh, I am here to buy a fucking vase. One as a replacement for the stupid one you broke the other day. So don´t piss me off by acting all protective on me now! I wouldn´t even be here if it wasn´t for that.”

Your answer leaves him speechless for a few seconds. You mean to tell him you enter this area willingly, just to buy a vase? Suddenly, he questions your sanity. “You have to be kidding me. There is no way.”

“Yes, there is. So stop being such a dramatic bitch,” you counter. He has no words after that, still too busy processing the reason you are here. But then you are the one realizing something crucial. “Why the fuck are you here? Huh? And don´t tell me this is not what it looks like. Because I am certainly rethinking my judgment of you right now.”

This time, he is the one who rolls his eyes. Now he has to deal with you nagging on him about shady business and so on. As if other people in his life don´t already do this enough as it is. “Listen, what I do doesn´t matter. I know how to navigate around here. I can protect myself. You, on the other hand, don´t. So go back home. Now.”

“Not until I get the vase!” you argue, unwilling to get lectured.

“Fuck that vase! Just go home,” he yells, not ready to start a serious argument with you.

“Stop yelling at me and telling me what to do. You´re not my Mom!” you yell back at him. And when he is about to keep going, another voice suddenly calls his name.

“Jeno? Where are you? Your match is starting in 10 minutes. You need to get ready,” the unfamiliar voice calls.

Jeno rumbles in frustration. “Give me a few more minutes!” he then yells back to whoever just called for him. Then he faces you again. “Give me your phone,” he suddenly demands.

Confused, you look at him. “No? Why would I?”

“Give me your damn phone, for fucks sake. Don't make this unnecessarily hard,” he keeps pressing, holding out his hand.

Only with lots of reluctance do you finally give in and hand him your phone, unlocking it before he fully takes it. “What are you going to do?”

He takes the device from you and opens an app. Then he types something. In the next moment, his own phone lights up. “I´m typing in my number. You’d better give me a call if something happens. I swear to god.”

Only after he is done checking that the message reached his phone does he give yours back to you. You take it from his hands, too stunned to speak by his sudden action.

“Watch yourself out here. And fucking swear you will call me or leave a message if anyone tries to do something to you. Get that damn vase and go back home. And make sure no one follows you.” With those words, and after making sure you took them in, he leaves and vanishes around the corner, leaving you behind speechless.

So much for simply buying a vase. If something happens to you, you will make sure to sue your boss for emotional distress, since he is the one who made you come here in the first place.

VII. WHERE DID YOU GO?

In the following days, you don´t see him around. Even as the new vase sits in the same space the old one once sat, you don´t have the usual routine of making a drink just for him. It´s been a week. And usually, he would have visited at least once during that duration of time.

Something feels off. You can´t pinpoint what it is, but deep down, your gut is telling you something has changed. You think back to that night you suddenly met him. He sounded fairly concerned. And well, you can understand why. Then, you also remember that other guy saying something about a match.

You can only guess what kind of match. Knowing the shady business around that area, and seeing how he always has at least one bruise somewhere on his face or near it, it clearly has to do with fighting.

The realization has you wondering. Did he get hurt? Did something happen to him? Maybe he got hurt so badly he just can´t visit. You can only guess. What you are sure of, though, is that shifts are somehow way more boring than when your special visitor comes around.

Later that night, when you reach your apartment and finally lie in bed, you look at your phone screen. The app for your contacts is open and staring at you with a bright light. You are debating. Seriously debating texting him.

But then you ask yourself, is it really your place to do that? He gave you his number in case of an emergency. You are clearly not in any danger right now. But would it be wrong to still at least text?

But then again, what would you even say? Hello. How is it going? Why aren´t you coming anymore? Where are you? Did something happen? Somehow, all of these feel so wrong. So in the end, you just turn off your phone and lay it down beside you.

While you try to sleep, you still can´t help but worry about him, though. So you really, with all your might, hope that he is at least fine and able to take care of his sister. Even if he doesn’t visit the cafe for the next month. It doesn´t matter as long as you don´t have to fear seeing the news of a young red-haired boy heavily injured and in a coma in the hospital, and his family asking for donations to pay for the bills.

VIII. DETERMINATION, OR IS IT DESPERATION?

He doesn´t visit for the following two weeks either. It really is a mystery to you. You don´t know what happened. You don´t know what he is thinking. You can still only guess. Sure, so far, there is still no news article talking about some boy who got hurt so badly that he is in a hospital. At least that should be a relief. But it´s not.

You want to know what´s going on. Why he suddenly acts as if he doesn´t know you, as if you didn´t establish an unspoken routine. You don´t understand why you care so much, either. After all, he is just some stranger who does some sort of shady business.

But here you are, closing the door to the cafe, and making your way down the road. It´s not your usual way, however. Because this time, your destination isn´t home. It´s that same district. That same road. And the same location the club is at.

You are sure you are crazy and going insane. Because why would you willingly return there when you know just how dangerous it is? Even he warned you. But then again, he is the reason why you are even going. It makes no sense.

The further you go into dangerous territory, the more alert you are. You turn around whenever something makes a sound, just to see nothing or a cat playing with trash. The way the street lamps get fewer and fewer has you clutch your keys and walk faster, too. You are scared. But your curiosity is getting the better of you.

You know basically nothing about him. You don´t know where he lives, or what exactly he does in his free time. The only thing you do know is that he has to have some sort of business at this exact club. So, to finally answer your million questions, and to also somewhat calm your gut, you have to see him. Just to know that he is okay.

When the club finally enters your view, you swallow. There are a lot of people outside. And the music is so loud, you can feel the bass even from meters away. You are sure you seem suspicious, and you know that the way you present yourself right now screams easy victim. So you steady yourself and straighten your posture. Determination creeps into you as you exhale a final time before stepping into the direct light of the club, ready to move to the entrance.

Once you are there and push past a few people, you face the bodyguard. He gives you a once-over, looking at you from head to toe. Then he asks for your business. You hesitate for a second, trying to think of something. Clearly, you didn´t plan ahead much. You are far from dressed for the occasion, so it´s obvious he would question you.

You are about to answer when someone places their arm around your shoulder. Your body tenses, and you look at the stranger as he says, “She´s with me. No need to bother.” Then, before you can protest, he pushes you inside with him gently and brings you to a side of the club with fewer people.

You eye everything you can as you pass the dancing and sweating people. The club looks like a normal party location at first sight, but you know it´s not. When the stranger comes to a halt and removes his arm from around your shoulder, he looks at you with a questioning look.

“What´s an innocent doll like you doing around here? You are not here to party, are you?” the stranger asks. He looks fairly handsome, even though he is sporting some bruises and messy silver-ish hair.

“N-no. I´m looking for someone,” you say, trying to sound as confident and steady as possible, which isn´t an easy thing to do in such a dangerous and unknown establishment.

“Looking for someone, huh? Who may that be?” he asks, a bit playful, and certainly enjoying this moment with you a little too much.

“That´s none of your business. Who are you to question me anyway?” Confidence suddenly finds its way back to you as you finally look him in the eyes while asking the question with an ounce of too much audacity.

The guy clicks his tongue in amusement at the change in your tone. But he plays along. “Well, fine. I will introduce myself to such a pretty lady. My name is Jaemin. What´s yours?”

“I see, no information without a trade. Well, I´m … I´m Snow lion.” You want to facepalm yourself for the fake name you are giving him. Snow lion. How weird a name did you have to pick? Whatever, there is no going back anymore.

“Ah, yeah, Snow lion, who are you looking for? Because I am sure I've never seen you around,” Jaemin asks, definitely amused by your choice of name. He does, however, not play around when it comes to his business.

You debate about telling him the truth. Maybe he knows Jeno. The chances are high. But then again, you don´t really trust him. He seems nice on the surface. But you never know for sure. But what choice do you really have? It´s either asking a local or just aimlessly looking for him, or asking other strangers.

Defeated by the reality of things, you sigh and give in. “Is Jeno here?” You keep the question simple. Three words. Nothing more. No unnecessary information. No possible hints at anything.

Surprised by the name he hears, Jaemin takes a look around. It´s crazy to him how someone he has never seen before demands to see his best friend. Or, well, at least asks for him. “Why do you ask? Do you wanna see him? Do you wanna fight him? Or should I leave a message?”

The sudden barrage of questions takes you off guard, so you quickly shake your head. “No. No. I just…. forget it. I shouldn´t be here.” You want to retreat, seeing how pathetic this attempt is. You are in no place to ask any of this. Why did you even come here to begin with?

“He´s not here today. But he is fine, if that´s what you wanted to know.” His words enlighten you a little. It´s disappointing that Jeno isn´t here. For whatever reason. But you are also glad to hear that he is fine. You still don´t know why he isn´t showing up at the cafe anymore. But at least now you can rest well at night without having to fear for the worst.

“I should go home,” you mumble, and look for the exit.

Sensing your sudden change in mood, Jaemin nods. “I will escort you out. Just so you stay safe,” he says, and gently pushes you with his hand on your back.

You don´t mind his touch, sensing that he just wants to help you get out as fast as possible. Deep down, you are thankful he isn´t some weird creep. Or at least he doesn´t show it to you. But when you inhale the fresh night air again and start to move away, you turn one final time and look at him. “Thanks for telling me.”

Jaemin simply nods at you, and watches you as your figure slowly leaves the vicinity. He has his phone in his hand now. Without you noticing, he snaps a pic right before you are out of sight. In the next moment, he sends it to someone with a text.

Your little Snow lion came looking for you.

[image]

IX. CLARITY

You are lying in your bed a few nights later. Jeno still didn’t visit the cafe, and you gave up trying to find a plausible reason for it. You just accepted that he may have a reason for not coming and that you might never see him again. So you try to slowly let go of him.

Even though you are trying to sleep, after your encounter with Jaemin and his reassurance that Jeno is fine, you still can’t help but worry here and there. You try to think of other things. For example, how you will manage rent next month, now that you have been fired from your restaurant job. Asking your parents is not an option for you, even if you know they have more than enough to give.

You don’t wanna associate with them. Not after realizing what matters to them most. It wasn’t you, that’s for sure.

So when you finally manage to close your eyes, no thoughts haunting you and keeping you awake anymore, and having a comfortable position under your blanket, you hear an urgent knock on your window.

You ignore it, thinking it’s part of your imagination. But when the knock sounds again, and more persistent this time, your eyes shoot open.

Within a minute, you are up and walking over to it. In your hand, you hold the first thing you could find—an umbrella—and move closer. Cautiously, you pull the curtains aside, ready for anything and anyone standing there, about to rob you.

But the moment you lay eyes on the guy in front of you, you drop the umbrella and rush forward, opening the window to let him in. “What the fuck happened to you?” Your voice echoes through your bedroom with evident worry. You quickly help him inside while he stumbles to the floor, almost falling over in the process.

There he is. After not showing his face for a good month, he surprises you with a face full of fresh wounds, all pouring blood over his skin.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he barely manages to get himself to the closest chair for some support. The moment he sits down, you are in front of him, taking in his bruised state.

One of your hands gently tips his head so he looks at you, too. The worry in your eyes takes him by surprise. But he still doesn't explain himself.

Since he´s not saying anything, and you don´t really expect for that to change, you decide something. Your feet move quickly while eyes follow you. In an instant, you are back by his side with a glass of water and some bandages.

You push the glass of water into his hand, your gaze demanding for him to drink something. He doesn´t dare disobey, seeing the fire behind your eyes, so he takes a big gulp and sets the glass down on the table beside him. Then, your hand guides his face towards yours so you can inspect the wounds more seriously.

There is a cut above his eyebrow and a cut on his bottom lip. Another bloody bruise graces his nose, and you can certainly tell that his right eye is swollen and probably going to be blue in a few hours.

You sigh in defeat before you get to work. With gentle motions and the utmost care, you wet a tissue and start to clean the wounds, not wanting them to get infected. It surprises you that he just lets you do all of this, too. But you don´t say anything, afraid he will just run away again.

While you work on cleaning his face, he takes in yours. The soft and caring gaze. The slight furrow in your eyebrows as you seemingly wreck your mind on who did this to him. And the way you bite your bottom lip a little while concentrating on not hurting him. He doesn´t understand why you care so much. But at the same time, he feels this fire burn inside of him when he sees you.

He doesn´t know what it is. Admiration. Gratitude. Or something else. But he knows that this isn´t a given. And that he doesn´t want to miss it.

When you are about to put the first band-aid on one of the bruises, his hand suddenly moves and stops you. Your eyes instantly flow to his with a questioning look. Frustrated with how to start the conversation, he sighs, gaze trailing to your floor.

“Jeno, let me at least take care of your wounds. If you don´t want to tell me what happened, that´s fine. But at least let me help you.” You break the silence. He is surprised that you are the one to speak again first. After all, he was thinking of the right words to do it instead. But what surprises him even more is how gentle and worried you sound. It makes his eyes snap back to yours instantly.

After debating a little more and considering your genuine worry, he lets go of your hand and lets you continue. Thankful for it, you keep going. You bandage the bigger wounds and apply ointment to the soon-to-be bruises. Only when every cut is treated do you sit back and sigh.

“Why did you come here?” you eventually ask, unable to take the silence that settled again any longer. You really wonder what goes through his head. He doesn´t show up for a month. Makes you think he forgot about you. Even though you technically aren´t even friends. But now he shows up at your window in the middle of the night, all bloodied and bruised up.

“I didn´t know where else to go,” he mumbles, not looking you in the eyes. It´s embarrassing for him to admit. But there is no way he could show up at the club like this. None of his friends are home either, and his own home isn´t an option. He´s too afraid he will do something stupid if he stays alone. So in his haze, he ended up at your place, not even sure what to hope for.

“What happened?” You try again, hearing the edge of vulnerability in his voice as he speaks for the first time tonight. Your eyes stay on him, afraid you will miss any micro expression that can give you more context.

Jeno starts balling his hands into fists as he tries to calm himself down. Only thinking about it makes his blood boil again. Sensing the turmoil that´s growing inside him, you lay your hand on his in hopes of calming him down. “It´s okay. You aren´t there anymore. I´m here with you.”

Your words and gestures ground him a little, and he finally speaks. “My Mom´s boyfriend started a fight with me. We disagreed on something.” He gives away little info, but you can tell it´s something bigger than he lets on. You have a hunch about what they disagreed on, so you carefully ask.

“Was it about Bom?” The moment your words leave your mouth, his whole body tenses. You know he cares a lot about her based on his reaction and what you know so far. His nod only solidifies your suspicion.

“My Mom isn't exactly the best at taking care of her. She's quite neglectful, so I often take care of Bom instead. Her new boyfriend likes to add his two cents about her as well, and it pisses me off,” he explains, trying his best not to explode right in front of you.

“Where is she now?” you ask, sensing that maybe something might have gone wrong.

“She´s with my aunt. I brought her there before coming here.” His voice sounds rough, tired. But the anger still sits deep inside of him.

Relief floods you when you get to know that the little girl is somewhere safe. “I get that outsiders who try to dictate important situations suck ass. But I am glad that Bom is somewhere safe now. And I think, for now, that´s what matters most,” you try to reason, in hopes of calming his mind just a little.

Jeno tries. He really does. But the fight he had with that bastard still sits close to the surface. He nods regardless, agreeing with your sentiment. “I know. But the audacity is really just, urgh. It´s ridiculous.”

You don´t know if your next words are wise. But you still want to give him the option. So you say them. “If you want, you can let it all out. Vent to your heart’s content. I will simply listen and won´t judge you.”

There is a pause in his breathing. He takes in the meaning of what you said. And then, as if something opens inside of him, he lets go. He starts rambling on about how his mom is an irresponsible woman, ever since his father left them for his career. He tells you about how she got knocked up by some stranger and had Bom a little over 2 years ago. Then she suddenly showed up with that new boyfriend of hers. The guy is the reason she started drinking again, and no matter how often he tries to tell her to stop, she just doesn´t listen.

“I have no idea how I managed to get the money to move out from there. But things are so messy. I try so hard to get Bom away from her. But she somehow always finds a loophole. The police don´t do shit. And then that asshole has some sort of lawyer. I don´t know what to do anymore.” He ends his rant with those words, moving his hand through his hair in frustration.

You sit there, taking in everything he tells you. A family that broke up because someone important left. A sudden pregnancy and seemingly no one who feels responsible for the child besides her older brother. A new love that puts his mom on the wrong path and changes her for the worse. An unsafe and messy environment for both children. And even though one of them is an adult now, there is simply nothing he can do because the system fails him.

“Is that why you are at that club so often?” You eventually ask, turning the topic in a different direction. For clarity.

The boy in front of you nods. He is on his feet by now, pacing around in hopes of calming himself down. “I fight for the money. The more I win, the more I earn. So I frequent the place. It´s tough business, but it´s the only option I have.”

You want to say something, but he interrupts you before you can. “And no, other jobs don´t work. I didn´t go to university. I barely managed to get through High school. They don´t want me anywhere near them, because I already look like trouble. People speak. And news travels fast. You sure bet everyone knows about my messy situation before I even get the chance to apply properly.”

You sigh in defeat, knowing fully well that he is right. Once someone has dirt on you, they will make sure everyone else knows about that. You´ve had to experience it, too.

“Do you feel a bit better now?” Your question makes him stop pacing, because he actually takes the time to consider. He does feel a lot less angry now. Somehow, having someone who listens and doesn't try to give unnecessary advice did help after all. So he turns to face you and nods.

You smile in return. Then you look around, trying to think of what to do next. “What are your plans now?” you eventually ask. It´s almost 3 am.

The boy in front of you shrugs. He hasn´t thought that far, to be honest. So he wrecks his brain. “I am sure some bridge will have some space for me. Or maybe a bench in the park.”

Horror strikes your features. There is no way you will let him sleep under a bridge or on a park bench. The moment he sees your face, he starts laughing a little, amused by your evident disagreement with those suggestions.

“Are you insane? There is no way I will let you sleep out in the open. It´s getting cold at night these days. You will freeze to death!” you argue, letting it slide that he is having fun with your reactions.

“Any better suggestions?” He turns to look around your apartment, again, crossing his arms while he waits for an answer. Your walls are simple, just like the rest of the flat. White furniture, a few pastel colors here and there, pictures of you with your friends on the wall, and a frame of a family photo that includes a short message below it. He takes them in briefly, but the photo sticks with him. Especially when he reads what it says.

“If you don´t feel too uncomfortable with it, you can sleep on my couch, you know. It´s just one night. And it makes me feel better to know that you are not about to freeze your toes off,” you say as you finally clean up the mess from cleaning his wounds.

He considers it. Looks at you with a debating expression. Sees how you kind of avoid his gaze as you throw away the bloody tissues. And then says, “Alright. If you don´t mind my dirty clothes on it. I don´t want you to complain about me ruining your stuff.”

That earns him another scandalized expression from you. “Who do you take me for? I'm not some clean-freak who cries about the tiniest dust corn.”

Jeno lifts his arms in defense, trying not to laugh at you. Then he remembers something. While you start to take out a blanket from your closet, he suddenly asks you, “Why were you at the club the other night?”

You stop in your tracks. At first, you don´t know what he means. Then you remember your little act of desperation. You already tried to forget about that, again. The encounter had been embarrassing enough. But now you wonder how he knows. You still test him, though. “What do you mean?”

"Don't try to deny it. Lying doesn't suit you, snow lion.” His words ring in your ears. Especially that stupid nickname you gave yourself. Now you wonder even more how he knows. Didn´t Jaemin say he wasn´t there?

You turn around slowly, blanket in hand, as you march over to the couch to throw the piece of fabric onto it. “I was looking for you. After all, you decided not to show your face in front of my workplace anymore.” You admit. There is no need to make any excuses. Not after he vented to you. “I got worried.”

The mumble of your last words is barely audible, but he still hears them. Somehow, it warms his heart a little when he realizes that you went somewhere dangerous, just because you noticed that he broke the routine. And the fact that it made you worry about him. So he decides to explain himself a little. After all, he had a reason to keep his distance.

“I wanted to keep you out of trouble. That´s why I didn´t dare show my face anymore. I didn’t want anyone from my background to find you and ruin your life.” He admits simply. No laying it out in careful words. Just the truth.

“What do you mean? I just got the vase in that district. That's all. Why would that ruin my life?” you ask and turn to face him.

“People there are very perceptive. They definitely noticed you. And if they saw you with me, they would trace you just to hopefully find a vulnerability on my side,” he explains. “Y/N I have a lot of enemies. They will do everything to hurt me. And I simply wanted to keep you out of my world. So I decided distance was the best solution.”

You are stunned by his revelation. Because even though he didn´t outright say it, his words still proved that he worried about you just as much as you worried about him. And this makes something dawn on you. You are no longer just acquaintances.

“I see.” You don´t know what else to say. So you just get everything else ready. Eventually, a yawn escapes you as you fill yourself a glass of water and take a sip. The boy who now lounges on your couch notices and chuckles.

“I guess I´ve held you up long enough.” His words earn a nod from you. You make your way back to your bed, the exhaustion hitting you fully now.

“Sleep well. And don´t worry about anything. Feel at home, I guess,” you mumble, getting cozy under your blanket. Jeno chuckles a few meters away from you, but stays silent after. While you drift off to sleep, he can´t help but stay awake a little longer. His rage from earlier dissipated. And he is glad he has somewhere warm to sleep tonight. He is thankful for your help and worry. But deep down, something gnaws at his heart.

X. LITTLE PRINCESS

A few days later, you are on a walk to clear your mind. Of course, the morning after Jeno crashed at your place, he was gone before you woke up. You only saw the blanket neatly folded and a note that said “thank you” next to it. The gesture was cute, but for some reason, you still hoped he wouldn´t be gone. Then again, he has no reason to stay any longer. After all, you are just getting to know each other.

Not fretting over his decision to leave any more, because, honestly, it´s really not that big of a deal, you find yourself walking alongside the park in your area. It´s one of your favorite spots in the city because it´s a place full of nature. It helps you destress and free your head when you feel overwhelmed. And that´s what´s currently going on.

Your mind is fully occupied. The things that happened are a lot to take in, and you started questioning your role in all of this. You don´t really have any answers for anything. Except maybe that Jeno is someone you care about more than you would like to admit. And his story with his sister pulls at your heart because now you really want to help. But you have no idea how.

You don´t even know if he wants your help in the first place. Maybe you are overstepping boundaries. But you know, looking away and not doing anything will bother you more. So here you are, trying to free your mind in hopes of coming to a decision.

The candy you bought before coming here isn´t helping you either. And as nice as the view of the park and the ducks that are on their way back to the small trench in the middle of it is, they are not having the strongest effects.

Giving up on your walk, you start to turn the corner to go back home. You walk past other people and dodge some running children before you reach the trail that guides you in the right direction. Still caged in your mind, you barely register the things around you. It´s like you are on autopilot.

That´s when your mind suddenly plays tricks on you. You can hear laughing. And right after you think you hear the man responsible for your mental restlessness. But you know it can’t be. At least you want to believe it can´t. Because you really never know what the universe has in store for you. So when you think you hear Jeno again, you finally look up, in hopes of proving yourself wrong.

There is a playground to your left. It´s not big, but it has everything a child´s heart desires. At first, you see another pair of parents with their son near the slide. But when you look behind the wooden structure that has the slide attached, you actually see a guy with familiar red hair. And he is pushing the swing gently, making the little girl sitting on it laugh.

You stop in your tracks. Your mind goes blank for a second before you start wondering how it´s possible that you keep running into this guy. Before he first stormed into the cafe, you had never seen him before. So why does he suddenly cross paths with you seemingly every time you decide to leave the house?

Knowing that there is no answer to this question, you stop thinking about it altogether. But then you start watching them. Jeno is really gentle with the little girl. He talks to her and listens to her demands when it comes to pushing her more. You know she is only a little over 2 years old, but you have to say, she is fairly talkative and speaks well for her age. It´s adorable seeing them interact, too. The way she laughs whenever she comes back down, swinging in his direction just to get pushed by him forward again. You can see the care in his controlled power. The way he makes sure not to go too hard so she wouldn't fall. It makes you smile, too.

You keep observing their dynamic, not hurrying to make a move anytime soon. You don´t want to interrupt and intrude. That's why you decide to stay where you are. Eventually, Bom urges to go to the slide. She kicks her legs, ready to jump off the still swinging swing. But Jeno steps in and catches her before she has the chance to hurt herself. The tiny girl giggles when her brother lifts her up and into his arms. The sight is warming your heart so much, you register too late that the boy is turning around. It´s only when he stops in his tracks and looks at you with a frozen expression of surprise that you realize that you are standing there like some creep, watching two people play peacefully.

You freeze up, too, not daring to move anywhere. You try to avert your gaze. And plan your escape route so you can just bolt away, avoiding explaining yourself. But the hurried demand from the little girl for her brother to finally bring her to the slide has you stay exactly where you are.

Jeno snaps out of his short freeze-up quicker than expected and walks over to the chute. He sets the little girl down and lets her slide down the small slope. The girl laughs cheerily, waiting for her big brother to pick her up and set her down at the top again. But he doesn´t react quickly enough, too occupied by still looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Oppa!” she says, trying to catch his attention. But because he is too focused on something else, she slowly turns and gets off the slide, and walks over to him to pull at his pants to try and get his attention that way.

When Jeno feels the pressure of someone pulling at the fabric of his pants, he finally looks back down and sees the somewhat grumpy expression on Bom´s face. He is about to let out a chuckle when the little girl points at the girl he´s been staring at and asks, “Who that?”

Her pouting expression, mixed with the grumpy furrow of her eyebrows, softens his heart. But then he registers her question, and he is back to looking at you all over again. This time, however, he struggles to find the right term to explain who you are. He thinks and considers a few options. But ultimately, he settles for the simplest thing. “That´s a new friend I made.”

His answer satisfies the small girl. For now. And she is back to looking at you, too. You feel a bit like you are trapped in some sort of spotlight, which makes you feel just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. But you can´t bolt away now. It would only make this more awkward than it already is. So instead, you opt for simply waving at Bom and showing her a sincere smile.

The girl turns back to Jeno and lifts her arms. Understanding her want, he lifts her and sets her down on top of the slide. Before sliding down, the girl looks at you for a second time and then finally moves.

You try to contain the laugh that’s daring to surface. Bom is truly adorable with her dominant behavior. And you can tell that she has Jeno wrapped around her finger. Clearly, he will do everything to make her happy. What you don´t expect is the fact that this time, she doesn't go to her brother. No. She walks towards you. And before you even get the chance to do or say something, she already has her hand wrapped around your fingers and tries to pull you with her.

Perplexed, you give in and follow. And in the next moment, you stand next to the red-haired man, lifting his baby sister so she can slide a third time. “This… is unexpected.” He breaks the silence between you two, clearing his throat right after to get rid of the hoarse sound that came out.

“Hmm? What is?” you ask awkwardly, not looking at him whatsoever.

“The fact that she just went up to you and pulled you with her. She usually never does this,” he explains, watching Bom walk up to him, and then lifts her to the top again.

“Wait, really?” You can´t believe that´s actually true. And because you are in disbelief, you turn your head and look at him with raised eyebrows.

He turns to face you, too. His nod is short but serious. “Bom is wary of strangers. So this is new.”

You inhale and return your gaze to the small girl. “I guess I should feel honored then?” you question, not expecting an answer to that.

Silence settles between you for a few minutes, in which you either watch or lift Bom to the top, over and over again. Then, when the awkwardness finally fades a bit, you take the courage to start a real conversation. “So, how are you?”

The question takes him by surprise. The genuine interest in your voice isn´t exactly something he is used to. He considers lying. Trying to avoid a deeper conversation about his personal issues. But then he remembers how you helped him without questioning him. How you listened and gave him the option to vent. And how you let him stay the night and treated his wounds, even though he is technically just a stranger. So he decides to be honest.

“Could be better. A lot is going on at the moment,” he says, not sugarcoating or dramatizing anything.

Trying to ask if everything is fine with his family situation would be stupid on your end. So you stop yourself from asking that generic question. You know it´s not. He´s told you enough to guess that things are still the same, and that it´s likely why he is outside with Bom right now. “Did more happen?”

Your bluntness takes him off guard. He knows you aren´t stupid. But he didn´t expect you to ask straight up if anything else threw him off these past days. He doesn´t know if he wants to reveal it to you, either. The playground doesn´t exactly feel like the best spot to talk about these kinds of things. But much to his confusion, he feels oddly secure, so he ends up answering honestly, again.

“My mom threw her debt onto me. So I am currently kind of trying to hide from some loan sharks, while also taking care of my sister.” His words are dry. Simple. As if he´s talking about the weather. The moment you hear them, though, your head turns to face him. And horror is written all over your features.

“You are kidding me, right?” you ask in disbelief. You know he´s not. But the way this situation turned into something even worse has you baffled. How can someone be so unlucky?

“I wish I were,” he chuckles and looks at his feet. “It´s really stressing me out, actually.”

He is laughing about the ridiculousness of the situation. But deep down, he is struggling to hold on. Because he has no solution to this problem. It´s impossible for him to earn that much money in such a short time. Especially because those shady guys are already at his neck, tracking him down, and bothering him about a deadline to finally pay up.

You keep looking at him with the most serious expression in your inventory. Your arms are crossed, and your mind is still comprehending the reveal. Immediately, you try to find solutions, too. But nothing comes up. You open your mouth regardless, ready to say something. But he interrupts you.

“No. I don´t want anyone to help me like that. It makes no difference. I would just have to repay the debt to someone else.” You close your mouth again upon hearing him say it. It makes sense to you. So you don´t argue against it.

Defeated, you watch Bom play at the play frame, while your mind is racing. “You know, if it helps in any other way…you can always crash at my place or ring me up if you need an open ear for anything. There isn´t much I can do. So at least let me offer emotional support.”

Your gentle words reach his ears, and he has to process them a little to fully grasp your offer. He looks at you with wide eyes and is met with your determined gaze. You are totally serious about what you just said. And you make that clear to him with your honesty.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. But eventually, he mutters few words. “Thank you.”

Before the conversation can keep going in any way, Bom is back in front of them and takes your hand into hers again. She pulls you with her, your feet relenting before you can protest. So you follow her and help her climb the monkey bars, holding onto her, and focusing on every move so she wouldn't fall.

Jeno watches. His mind is a mess. Even more than before. You are truly something in his eyes. It´s as if the universe sent him a guardian. First, you lie for him in front of the police. Then you take care of him without demanding anything in return. And now you are playing with his sister as if she´s known you for months, and offering him support throughout his sticky situation. What did he do to deserve this kindness?

Later that afternoon, when you had to say goodbye because you had to get ready for your next shift, he walks back home with Bom. The tiny girl is holding onto his fingers like always, guiding the familiar way. She is oddly quiet. Until she breaks her silence and surprises him with her words.

“I like friend.”

He looks at her with a surprised expression, ready to ask her to repeat that. But then the little girl stops and lifts her arms. He does what he always does and lifts her up. Then he looks at her. “You like Y/N?”

Bom nods. Her innocent eyes looking into his eyes with her usual sincerity. Jeno takes in her response, and then exhales a heavy breath. If his sister likes you, he is sure he should trust you, too.

XI. FIRST VISIT

Can you come over?

[location]

It´s a simple message. Unexpected. And seemingly normal. But your gut tells you something is off. Jeno never texted you before. This is the first time. It being a direct location with this seemingly simple request tells you something is up. So you get ready quickly and walk the distance to what you assume is his apartment.

When you reach the address, you look through the names on the doorbells, trying to find his unit as fast as possible. That´s when you realize you don´t even know his last name. Frustrated, you take out your phone and dial his number instead.

It rings. Once. Twice. A third time. Then, someone picks up. “I´m here,” you say. There is no answer. In the next moment, the door in front of you makes a sound, and you push it open.

“Third floor,” is all he says before he ends the call. His tone sounds hoarse. You can definitely tell that something has shaken him up. You are already glad he even decided to text you in the first place. So you don´t hesitate and climb the stairs as fast as possible.

On the third floor, you stop in front of the slightly open door. You debate on just entering or not. But then you hear a crash, so all your doubts vanish, and you just enter anyway. Your shoes are off within seconds, and your jacket is thrown over the shoe rack before you hurry into what you assume is his living room.

His place is small. Simple. Messy. But you don´t care. Your eyes dart around until they find the man in question. He is busy sweeping away shards of broken glass when he sees you. And you have to say, he looks rough. Before he gets to say anything, you ask him, “What happened?”

The slump in his shoulders is apparent. He keeps you waiting, taking his sweet time to throw away the broken glass and put away the dustpan. Then he faces you, looks at you shortly, and sighs in defeat. It takes him visible effort to open his mouth and explain himself. You see how hard it is for him to accept the option to lean on you and tell you what´s going on.

But then, when he finally feels ready to open up, his first words awaken every fiber of your being. Alert flashes through you, and you understand why he looks like such a mess.

“They want to take away Bom.”

The words keep repeating in your head. His effort to try and keep it together tears your heart in two. Your mind is racing. Questions over questions cloud it. You try to ground yourself. And then you ask for specifics. “What do you mean? Who are they? What exactly do they want to do?”

Jeno´s hands ball into fists. His jaw clenches. Then he looks at you. “My mom and her stupid boyfriend want to get rid of her. So they plan to take her somewhere. They won´t let me see her anymore.” The tension in his body is evident. It takes every bit of effort for him to stay this calm and not destroy something. “I don´t know what to do. It´s not like I can take care of her on my own.”

You swallow. You know how much she means to him. And you know she can´t stay with their mom, either. You try to think up things, but your mind comes up with nothing. At least for now. “They are cruel for trying to separate you from her. Jeno, I´m so sorry they are doing this to you.”

Comfort is what you try to give him for now. Solutions can come later. It´s important that he calms down first. So you carefully move closer to him and place your hand on his shoulder, gauging if he accepts the gesture. When he doesn´t move away, you keep it there, gently rubbing the spot in hopes it calms him down.

“It probably feels impossible to fix, but I am sure we will find a solution. For now, let´s try and calm down a bit.” You speak in a soft tone, carefully using each word in hopes it helps in any way. You can feel the tension below your palm. The way his muscles can´t relax because he is still on edge with all the frustration.

The boy inhales, trying to stay levelheaded. He knows you are right. But he can´t help but feel hopelessness. “What am I supposed to do? My life is too messy. There is no way a lawyer would speak on my behalf. I can´t even afford one. My mom knows how to play these games. She will paint herself as the victim. And then once Bom is gone, I will never see her again because the family that takes care of her will demonize me.”

His worries and fears pool out of him. You feel the strain in your chest while listening to him. “Jeno, I know shit is messy. Sure, your way of earning money is sketchy as fuck. But there is no denying that you care for your sister dearly. The way she clings to you when you handle her is proof enough. Any judge will recognize that.” You try to silence his destructive thoughts first, in hopes of lessening the fear.

“I am sure it won't come far enough for Bom to live with another family, either. Stuff like this takes time. They will investigate the situation at your mom´s home first, too,” you keep going, quickly realizing you are rationalizing too much and not focusing on emotions enough.

Jeno keeps quiet while listening to your words. They don´t exactly soothe the ache he is feeling right now, but he notices the effort and that you´re actually trying to help him. Still, the burning rage that slumbers deep inside him wants to escape.

“As I said, all of this is pretty hard to bear. Parents who are too absorbed in their own business are a poison ready to spread into your own life, ruining it with every step. I understand how that feels. But even though this feels like a hopeless situation, I can reassure you that we will find a way to fix this mess.” You finish your little talk of motivation, hoping it at least did something to soothe him.

But unexpectedly, the boy next to you suddenly lashes out. He moves away from you and looks at you with accusing eyes. You can´t point out the reason for this sudden behavior change, but the way he goes off on you doesn´t faze you much at all.

“You don´t understand anything! I have to take care of everything myself! My family has always been poor! Things never go in my favor! Life has always been a bitch! You, with your rich family throwing every cent after you, have no idea how it feels to provide for a lost cause of a mother and a baby. You don't know how it feels to struggle like this. When the world seems to be against you, and keeps showing you how little it´s worth to try and keep surviving.” To end his frustrated speech, he kicks a chair to the side, redirecting his frustrations against an object.

While he goes off on you, you just stand there, face neutral and unbothered, watching him. You have no idea where he got the idea that your life had any prestige, but it doesn´t matter at this very moment. When you see him pant a bit and sense that his verbal expression has done something to the tension inside his body, you cross your arms. “Are you done?”

He expected you would yell at him. Fight him. Protest against whatever he just accused you of. But your unbothered response takes him off guard. Out of reflex, he looks at you with a surprised face.

“Look. I don´t know where you got all of that from. I am not saying life hasn´t been shit. Sure, I haven´t experienced the exact things you did. But I know how it feels to carry everything on my own shoulders. The universe doesn´t magically give way out of poverty and struggle. Hell, it dumps even more on you when you think it can´t get any worse. What I was trying to make clear, however, is that you are not alone anymore. I am here right now because you asked me to come. So stop sabotaging yourself by helplessly lashing out like a pathetic dog and let me help you go through this!”

Your voice echoes firmly. He listens to everything you say, immediately regretting judging you. He acknowledges the effort, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “I´m sorry. I just- it feels hopeless,” he stammers, slowly sinking to the floor. You move closer to him again and crouch down next to him, placing your hand on his shoulder once more.

“It´s okay. I get it. Just know that I´m not your enemy. I'm on your side.” You reassure him, showing him that you mean what you are saying. “Give me a few days to gather some data. In the meantime, maybe check if any of your extended family has a way to lend a hand.” Hearing your suggestions, he accepts them. So he nods along and gives up trying to fight you, finally letting you in fully.

When he has calmed down, and you two sit on the small couch now, drinking some water, you break the silence that had settled. “By the way, if you are referring to that family portrait in my apartment. I may be from a prestigious family. Sure. They are rich and known throughout the city. But I have nothing from that. I chose to go my own way. And because my way isn´t what they envisioned for me, they pretty much cut me off. I haven´t spoken to my parents in over a year. And I refuse to visit them. They don´t accept me for who I am, so I won´t give them an ounce of my time.”

Your explanation makes sense to him, and he feels even worse for judging you like that when you haven´t ever judged him for his mess of a life. “I´m sorry for assuming things. I don´t really know anything about you. And I… I don´t know why I suddenly felt the need to try and push you away.”

You stop him before he can go on even more. “Jeno, I get it. That was a defense mechanism, and you were trying to self-sabotage. It´s fine. I know you didn´t mean it. If you want, I can tell you more about me, if it makes you feel more comfortable opening up about yourself.”

He looks at you, now visibly more relaxed, and gives you the first smile in a while. “I would appreciate it. Not gonna lie. Who exactly are you? You are a bit reckless sometimes, that I know. Turning up at my workplace just because I didn´t show up and endangering yourself. That´s the kind of person you are. But I know nothing surface-level. So enlighten me, please.”

You chuckle at his lighthearted tone, even slapping his arm for the implied teasing. “God, stop acting like I´m the one who´s insane. But okay. I will tell you the boring facts about me that you don´t know yet,” you say, and start listing things. You tell him that your family owns a successful business. That you have an older brother who despises you because you stray from what your parents want. That your grandparents are the only people you regularly call. That you had to work your ass off ever since high school because you wouldn´t get any support from anyone. And that you want to study social work one day to help kids in need.

For the rest of the evening, you keep talking, getting to know each other, and relaxing to the sound of loud neighbors and mediocre tap water. It´s nothing fancy, but it´s special regardless, because it´s your way of bonding and getting closer. The trust that the two of you are building. It´s necessary. And both of you are thankful that the other didn´t turn the opposite way. Because Jeno truly doesn´t know what he would've done if you weren't here, fighting with him.

XII. THESE GIFTS AREN´T FOR YOU

It´s roughly two weeks later when you meet up with Jeno again. Through frequent texting, you´ve gotten to know that his aunt also tried to talk to his mother about Bom and that he is currently taking her out on a playdate to the playground. So, while ready to meet them and enjoy some time together, you quickly enter a shop and buy a few small things on your way there.

15 minutes later, you speed walk around the corner, a bag in hand, as you wave once you see Jeno standing there holding his little sister. The moment he sees you, he starts smiling, bringing Bom´s attention to you as well. The little girl stares at you with a curious gaze when you greet her brother.

“I see you managed to get a hold of her. How is she?” you ask, slightly out of breath.

“She is fine. My aunt visited them every day insistently because she was scared they would do something bad,” he explains. And even though relief is obvious in his tone, you hear the underlying exhaustion from the anxiety he has faced for those days.

“Well, I´m glad your aunt is so supportive. Anyway, let´s enjoy the great weather. Bom, are you ready to play?” You divert the conversation, determined to steer away from the depressive reality. Life is too short to dwell on things, and besides that, you have good news to share, too.

Bom, who has been watching you for the past minute, gives you a toothy smile and approvingly claps her hands while nodding when you mention playing. You grin back at her and then speak up again. “Guess who got you a small present?” The question lights up her eyes even more. And when you take out a small box with a doll inside, she eagerly takes it from you and shows it to her brother.

Jeno at first plays into the enthusiasm of his little sister. But once Bom is busy inspecting the toy, he gives you a questioning look that´s accompanied by some disapproval. When he mumbles to you, you give him a look of question as well, raising your eyebrows. “Why did you buy her something? I don´t want you to use your money on us.”

“What makes you think I would spend a dime on you, huh? I brought a gift solely for your sister. Because I like her and I think she deserves something that makes her happy while she has to endure the circumstances. This has nothing to do with you,” you retort, seeing how his defenses want to go up. So you immediately break the chance for that to happen. “Can a grown woman not buy whatever she wants with her own money?”

The guy in front of you takes in your words and then rolls his eyes. He has to stop himself from chuckling at your response. Even though he´s gotten to know you a bit better, he still has to get used to your sassiness sometimes. And because he has no good arguments against your word, he simply accepts his defeat. “Fine. But that grown woman better not overdo it with the presents. I don't want Bom to get spoiled too much.”

“Alright. I can work with that.” You give him a sugar-sweet smile and then start to walk towards the playground. “Now then, if your feet aren´t set in stone, can we finally get going?”

“Are you saying I´m holding us up? How offensive,” he jokes in return and starts walking as well. “But fine, the lioness has spoken, so I will pick up the pace.” You roll your eyes at his teasing and keep going. Bom is still inspecting the box with the doll, totally in her own world. And Jeno settles right next to you, adapting to your pace as you get to the playground in comfortable silence.

When you finally arrive, he sets the little girl down and takes the box from her hands. He explains to her that he will take care of it while she plays so the doll won´t get hurt. And since Bom is satisfied with his reasoning, she happily runs off to play in the sand.

You come to a stand next to Jeno, keeping watch on the girl as she innocently minds her business. You feel happy inside. This normalcy gives you an out from your own troubles. Taking in a deep breath you relax a bit as the sun shines onto your skin. Jeno notices. He´s eyed you a bit after he got done putting away the doll into his bag. “How are you doing? You got fired from that second job you had a while ago. Any new jobs you´re starting soon?”

“No. Still looking for something new. I am so glad my boss at the cafe hasn´t also fired me. He´s kept an eye on me ever since I had to bring a new accessory for the cafe.” You tease the topic of the vase breaking once more as it has become a bit of an inside joke between you two. Jeno chuckles when he hears it and looks at the floor for a few seconds before returning his gaze to you.

“Sucks I guess. But hey, at least now you will do your job properly. Another criminal hiding behind your counter would surely get you fired.” The moment he is done speaking the sentence, you hit his arm with your fist. You have an amused smile on your lips, but you couldn´t let him off the hook that easily.

“I thought you were no criminal?” You turn to face him and see the grin on his face, mirroring your lighthearted demeanor.

“It´s because I'm not. But I can´t help but tease you a little. I am still sorry about that vase, too. Truly.” He shortly looks at Bom, to see if she's still alright and busy playing. Then he looks back at you.

“Sure you are,” you say, making both of you laugh. “You know, I´ve got good news for you.” The sudden change in topic has him listen to you intently. He´s curious to hear what you have to say, so he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

When you face him and see the look on his face, you can´t help but think of a puppy. But before you drift off into unserious conversations again, you want to tell him first. “I´ve spoken to a lawyer. I may not associate with my family much, but I took the courtesy of using my name a bit. And well, the chances are high that your Mom won´t get away with what she´s doing. I just need to know if you are willing to fight this battle against her and her boyfriend.”

Your face turns more serious. And once you are done speaking, you wait for his response. You don´t mind if he takes a moment to fully grasp what you just said.

He thinks over the facts and the stakes. This whole legal battle that will happen because of his mother´s stupid decisions. It´s going to be stressful and he knows it will cost him a lot of nerves. He will have to rely on other parts of his family. But when he looks at Bom playing so carelessly he knows what he has to do.

“I won´t be able to take care of her on my own. And I am sure, with my history, a judge won´t grant me any custody or stuff like that. I don´t have the money to support her.” He lays out his honest thoughts to you. “But I hope my aunt has the heart to take on the responsibility. I know she is off well, and she would definitely give her a safer home. So, if you are willing to help me out with this, I can´t say no to a better life for my sister.”

You don´t say anything unnecessary after that. You simply nod. “I will give your contacts to the lawyer then, so she can reach out to you.” You pause for a moment after saying that. “You are doing the right thing, Jeno. She will thank you for fighting for her when she´s older.”

“I know. I can´t help but see myself in her. I don´t want her to end up like me.” There is an unreadable tone in his voice when he says this. But you can see the way his inner child mourns an adult who never fought for him when his mom started drifting off. So you put your hand on his shoulder.

“She will see you as the best big brother she could ever have. And you will be able to see her grow up without having to worry about her.” Your words make him smile. He looks at Bom again and then imagines her in her teens, complaining about boys being stupid. How she cries after her first heartbreak. And how he will probably beat up whatever guy dares to scare her. “How can I repay you for this?”

The question takes you off guard. It´s readable in your expression. You recover fast, however, and set one thing straight. "Don't worry about the money. The lawyer owes my family a favor.”

Jeno nods in understanding and decides not to question you on this. He simply wants to trust you, so he expresses his gratitude with simple words. “Thank you.” And while it sounds like a simple saying to anyone else, you hear the double meaning. Thank you, for helping me with this, and being there for me and my sister.

You stay with Jeno and Bom for a while longer and end up pushing the little girl on the swing for at least 30 minutes at some point. You only say goodbye to them when the sun starts setting, again with the reason of having to get ready for your shift at the cafe. The girl hugs you happily when you part ways, and Jeno waves you goodbye with a happiness readable in his expression. He only starts to turn around and walk away when he no longer sees you.

On his way back to his apartment, he carries Bom in his arms, walking at a relaxed pace. The girl is visibly tired, and definitely dozing off. The way she stays so unusually quiet is the tell-tale sign for him. 

As he walks through the familiar streets, he eventually picks up voices behind him. He doesn´t pay them any mind at first. But when they come closer and he starts to hear the threatening jabs that are too obviously directed at him, he senses the danger.

His pace quickens, but he can´t run because of his sister. The guys behind him pick up the pace as well, and eventually corner him to the side of the wall when they reach him. He immediately recognizes their faces and instinctively shields his sister with his arms. 

“What do you want?” Jeno´s voice is ice cold. The grinning stares of the men in front of him loom over him, clearly trying to intimidate him. Unsuccessfully. Bom, who´s sleeping in his arms, luckily doesn´t notice any of this, too deep in her slumber.

“You know what we want. Pay up for that slut and we won´t bother you anymore,” one of them says in a twisted manner. He clearly enjoys this way too much.

“You have two weeks. If we don´t see the money by then, we will have to take something else as payment.” The second guy grins and glances at the kid in his grasp.

Jeno immediately changes his posture and gives him the deadliest stare he´s ever shown someone.

“Oh don´t worry, the kid is not on the list of things we are interested in. But maybe that girl that´s been hanging around you. She´s young. She will surely sell well.” The third guy says. That´s when it dawns on Jeno. They´ve been watching him. So they can have leverage over him.

The moment the realization sets in, he knows he has to do something. His lack of a response makes the 3 guys in front of him chuckle. “Two weeks, kid. If you can´t bring us the money by then, you know what's up.” And with those words they leave him standing there.

He starts walking again eventually. His pace is quick as his brain thinks up ways to earn the money as fast as possible. He knows he will have to take every fight he can get. He also knows you surely won't like that when you find out about it. But he has no choice.

On his way back, he carries his sister as protective as ever while his brain plays out every way the next month will go down. He feels like he is slowly losing it. Why is the universe so unfair to him? One good message gets overpowered by a bad one a few hours later. And then, he starts to wonder just what did he do wrong to deserve all this?

XIII. YOU WOULDN`T FIT IN - YEAH? WATCH ME

Only a few days have passed. This time you are on your phone, busy on a call with Jeno while doing laundry and other stuff. His excuse for not actually meeting up was that he has no time, but here you are, talking for at least an hour already, the call seemingly never ending.

“Say, are you still doing that shady club fighting thing?” you ask as you hang up a t-shirt.

His voice sounds a bit raspy when he responds, but you blame it on the staggering connection that decided to cut off the call for several seconds here and there. “Yeah. Why are you asking?”

“I feel like the bruises have become less. But maybe you just learned how to use make up. Or you stopped sucking at fighting. Either would explain it,” you retort, clearly teasing him. You have no idea if he´s good or bad. You´ve never seen him fight.

He stays silent for a few seconds, somewhat shocked by your bold statement. “Hey, you can´t judge my fighting at all. You´ve never seen it. Getting hurt is part of the business. But yeah, I´ve had less fights these past few weeks. Was too busy to attend any.”

“Why do I suddenly get the intuitive, knowing urge that this will change in the near future? Jeno, are you up to something?” You´ve always been perceptive. And something in the way he just said that makes your senses go haywire. There is definitely something.

His lack of a response confirms your sudden suspicion even more. So you pry. “Jeno. Please tell me I am wrong with my hunch.”

“Uhm… I just decided I am simply not going to answer that question,” he diverts. And you can imagine him looking around in his apartment as if he is trying to avoid your gaze.

“Oh my god, Jeno. I swear. That weird ass job of yours is going to kill you one day. Remember when you showed up at my window? I thought you surely will turn up with broken bones the next time. And then after that I am at the hospital having to identify a body because they can´t recognize you anymore.” Your voice cuts through to him, overly dramatic.

“You are overreacting. There is no way that will ever happen. It´s not like you can judge me on this anyway. As I said. You´ve never seen me do my thing. I´ve never lost,” he argues, rolling his eyes upon hearing your hysterics.

“I mean, how would I know? I don´t walk around those areas. And I don´t have time to go clubbing either. I can only assume based on the amount of cuts and bruises on your face.” You hang up the next t-shirt when you hear the boy chuckle.

“Yeah, well you wouldn't fit in anyway. Even though, maybe I should show you just how well I do in my fights,” he laughs, not fully realizing what he just indirectly said.

“Excuse me? Are you inviting me to watch you fight? While insulting me at the same time?” Your voice rings higher, and you stop in your tracks, still holding up a clothing item while you wait for his answer.

Jeno swallows when he realizes his mistake. Now he is pacing around in his living room, trying to figure out how to keep you away from the club scene. “I mean, forget what I said about seeing me fight. I don´t need to prove anything to you, so I will just let you doubt me when it comes to my capabilities. And what can I say? you look…too innocent. You would stick out with your cutesy style. Everyone will think some school girl strayed away from her usual route home.”

“…” The boy swallows when he gets no response right away. He knows he definitely said something wrong. His blood freezes the moment he hears your delayed response, however. “I see you still know so little about me. You know what? Give me a time and a date and I will prove you wrong.”

“What? No. I am not going to do that. I don´t want you there. It´s too dangerous.” He tries to stop you. Desperately. The scene really is nothing he wants you to get into.

“Are you scared you will embarrass yourself? That you will lose the fight or whatever? All because a woman shows up?” You intentionally try to rile him up with your words, hoping this tactic will work. Because now he has you curious. You´ve been to the club before. It wasn´t exactly your cup of tea. And yes, maybe you were a bit scared when you had to get the vase. But you feel like this is a challenge. And now you refuse to back down. You want to prove him wrong.

There is a sigh on the other line. You are guessing he is massaging his face in hopes of calming his nerves while trying to find a solution to the problem he created. But he is aware of your stubbornness. So he slowly gives in, not fond of you trying to talk him down like this, either. “Fine. On Friday, I have a match against some tough guy. If you wanna see it, be there at midnight. But seriously. You will stick out like a doll in a cage full of animals.”

“Ah yeah? You sure? Watch me. I´ll be there. And you better win. Or I will hold this against you every time you show up with a bruise or cut after that.” You accept the challenge. And now, with determination burning in your blood, you are already plotting your next step.

“Prove me wrong then. But I´m telling you. This scene isn´t for you.” He still argues, frustrated about this situation that he created. But now there is no going back. And because he doesn´t want to escalate the situation even further, he finally redirects the conversation to something else.

۶ৎ

That said Friday, you meet up with one of your best friends in the early afternoon. You´ve told her about your mission for the night a few days ago, and had to explain to her your whole endeavor with Jeno. She´s surprised about you blindly supporting a stranger, but simultaneously starts teasing you about possible attraction.

“Yuqi stop, just because he looks good, doesn't mean I'm instantly interested in him. We are friends now. Nothing more,” you argue while you style your hair.

“Friends now, lovers later. It´s not impossible. And I´m telling you, you are already interested, even if you don´t wanna admit it. You never would do things like right now under any other circumstance,” she argues back, totally smiling while she curls her hair.

You can´t deny that you are certainly going out of your way for him to try and fix things. “But that's just because of Bom. That girl is so cute. And she deserves better. It pains me to see them struggle.”

“Oh his sister surely is part of it. But she can´t be the only reason if you already started doing stuff before that. I mean you said you already willingly went into that club because you wanted to look for him out of worry. Who does that as a simple acquaintance?”

You have to bite your lip when you hear her mention your desperate attempt at searching for him. Your silence is answer enough for Yuqi as well, so she chuckles and keeps curling her hair. “Hey, see it for what it is, and simply enjoy it.”

You roll your eyes and keep styling your hair before you start on your make up. “Anyway, I can´t believe that he thinks I can´t fit in in a simple club. Who does he think he is?”

“That´s what I´m here for. We are going to dress up and prove a man wrong. Simple as that.” Yuqi chuckles and goes over to your wardrobe. “It´s time you finally wear one of those slutty skirts you have.” The moment her words leave her mouth she turns around and holds out a short mini skirt and a glittery top that will definitely accentuate your curves.

“And you are sure that will suit me?” you ask skeptically. In theory, you know that all the girls you´ve seen in the club wore similar things. And you know that these clothes will fit you well enough, too. But you´ve never been one to wear short things, instead opting for more comfortable ones and an academic style.

Your friend scoffs when she hears your doubt. “Excuse me, where did your confidence go? Of course it will. You are a nonchalant queen, so just wear your head up high as always.” Her words make you smile as they fuel your confidence. So you chuckle, too, forgetting about the uncertainty.

Once your make up is done, you get ready and put on the skirt and top and some necessary accessories that compliment the outfit. To round off your look, you put on some high heels and take the purse Yuqi brought with her. Before you two leave the house, you quickly reapply some lipstick and grab your jacket.

Then you start your walk to the club, taking your time and talking about lots of other things since this evening also serves as time to catch up. You haven´t had the chance to see her lately, due to all of your shifts piling up. So doing this makes you even more happy.

۶ৎ

The bass is booming, and the music echoes loudly. Sweaty bodies mingle, and alcohol and drugs are part of the menu for the night. The club looks exactly like the last time you went there. This time, though, you blend in seamlessly. The scene isn´t as scary as before. With Yuqi by your side, you are actually a little bit excited.

Jeno said to be there at midnight. It´s exactly 30 minutes before that. Still enough time is left to properly get used to the vibe and the people there. Yuqi takes your hand the second you stride through the crowd to get close to the bar.

“Let’s start with a drink to loosen up,” she says and orders something for both of you. In the meantime, you look around properly, and take everything in.

In the middle of the main room is a fighting cage. You already know what’s going to happen there later. Behind it the DJ is playing music, getting everyone in a good mood and making sure it never gets boring. Surrounding the cage, most of the people are dancing and having fun.

When you look upstairs you see the balconies and how more people are chatting, drinking and dancing there, waiting for the fight to start and setting their bets on who will win. In one corner you see Jeno’s face showing up on a screen. Next to it, bold letters show the ‘VS’ and right after another face of a guy follows. Below it reads ‘Christopher Bang’.

You swallow, seeing the fierce stare of the second guy. Worry creeps up your spine, but before you can do anything or overthink, your friend puts her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Here, your drink,” she says and looks around while taking a sip from the sweet concoction. “The music is really good. Not gonna lie, I thought it would suck.” Her chuckle barely rings through to you, due to the loud bass. You nod in agreement, however, and keep scanning your surroundings.

Then, in one corner, you spot a familiar face. The guy who talked to you last time—Jaemin—is standing there, reviewing some papers with another guy. You keep watching him for a few seconds, curious as to what he is doing, until he suddenly looks up. As if he sensed you looking at him, he stares right in your direction with a questioning gaze, trying to figure out who is watching him so intently.

Automatically, you grab Yuqi´s hand and start walking towards the guy. The girl follows you, trying to ask what´s up, but you are too focused on snaking through the crowd to get to your destination. Once you reach him, you stop in your tracks, Yuqi almost bumping into you and spilling her drink. She keeps looking at you with a questioning gaze.

“What do I need to know about the fight?” Your voice reaches Jaemin´s ears boldly, and he points his attention fully on you the moment he hears it. The way his expression stays hard, tells you he has no clue who you are. The guy he´s been talking to, senses the tension and quickly moves away, not in the mood to get in between whatever is going to happen between you two.

“And who are you?” he asks, fairly serious. A contrast to the last time he took care of you in the club. As a response you keep staring at him, not backing down and giving him the satisfaction of having the upper hand. Your face reads figure it out and he certainly likes the challenge.

After intense eye contact and him eyeing your whole face, it finally clicks for him. “My, oh my, snow lion. What are you doing here again? I didn´t recognize you at all.” His voice rings through to you over the loud music, even though it takes you a few seconds to fully register his words.

“Drop the nickname, bunny boy, and answer my question. What do I need to know about the fight?” You sound as serious as ever. And Yuqi can´t help but simply observe the interaction, too stunned about the fire behind your eyes, herself. Jaemin on the other hand, takes in your words.

He starts to grin. And then, a maniacal laugh escapes his mouth. He did not expect you to hit him with a nickname at all. And your choice brings him even more amusement. “Oh, I see why he likes you. You are a crazy one. But hey, if you want me to call you by your name. How about you tell me?” The grin on his lips doesn´t vanish as he keeps his confidence in front of you, not at all intimidated or scared by your change in demeanor.

“It´s Y/N. Now would you please enlighten me? Time is limited.” Your face stays straight. There is barely any emotion besides the seriousness and a hint of curiosity.

“Straight to business. I like it. Well, what exactly do you want to know? It starts in roughly 20 minutes. And I sure as hell wouldn't recommend that you stand too close to the cage. Unless you want your clothes ruined by blood,” he says, slightly relaxing his shoulders, now that he knows who you are.

“Everything that´s necessary. How this whole business works. How the fights are structured. Whatever you know about today´s opponent. Everything.” There is a beat of worry in your voice as you list a few things you want to know. And the guy in front of you recognizes the intent behind your curiosity.

His eyes soften a bit and he places a hand on your shoulder, feeling the tension in your muscles. “Aright, Y/N. Listen closely. There are 3 rounds. Whoever gets knocked out first loses. And the winner earns the bet money. These guys fight with fists. No gloves or anything. Almost everything is allowed. Chris is a strong dude. But I know that Jeno will succeed. He´s just gotta stay focused. That´s all.”

He leans closer to your ear so you can fully hear him. “If you want a good spot to watch him, you gotta go right over there.” Your eyes follow his finger that points to a certain spot near the cage with less dancing people close to it. “Now, relax your shoulders a bit, sit your sweet ass down somewhere, and wait for the action to start. There is no need to worry about him. He´s faced worse opponents.”

When he´s done telling you all this, you look at him again. Your expression is unreadable. You kind of want to say something, but your mouth stays closed. A simple nod is what you give him before you face Yuqi and signal her to move elsewhere.

Before you are fully out of earshot, Jaemin yells one last thing at you. “Enjoy the show, tiger.” Then he hurries off. After all, he has to mentally prepare his best friend for the fight.

“What a weirdo,” Yuqi tells you as she follows you to the corner Jaemin showed you. “So, we are going to watch this fight. I finally get to see this Jeno guy for the first time. And then what? Are we just going to dip and dash?”

You shake your head. “First of all, that idiot has to prove himself. After saying confident shit, I have to witness it for myself. And after that, depending on how the fight goes, it would be too bad to go right after. We just got here. and we didn't get dolled up for nothing, did we? So might as well enjoy the music and ignore the shadiness of the place.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The girl smiles at you and sips on the straw of her cocktail again. “Ay now try yours already. You haven't taken a sip yet. Tell me how it tastes,” she then urges and you laugh at her silly ways.

۶ৎ

Right when the clock hits midnight, the lights in the club dim down and the DJ's voice echoes through the main hall of the club. People are cheering excitedly when the showdown finally starts. The music starts matching the atmosphere, too, and you feel your heartbeat pick up speed with it.

The moment all of this starts, the vibe in the club fully changes. You can feel the adrenaline rush, and out of instinct you look to the cage that´s illuminated by show lights to emphasize the main stage.

You don´pick up anything the DJ is saying. Only when he drops the name `Lee Jeno` do your ears start working again and you start to hear everything more clearly. A door opens close to where you are standing with Yuqi. And then cheers erupt.

There he is. Walking proudly to the cage. His hands are wrapped. He´s wearing white shorts, a matching tank top, and over it a white jacket. Jeno looks fierce. You can sense that he hasn´t spotted you yet. Your eyes follow him, and when he enters the cage, he greets the watchers as if he's been doing this his whole life.

Then, on the other side, another door opens, and out walks a guy you assume is Christopher Bang. He looks the same as the screen shows him, serious face, scary expression, broad. He´s out for blood. You can feel it. In contrast to Jeno, he´s dressed in all black. His hands are wrapped, and you realize Jaemin was right. No gloves on either of them.

Your feet carry you closer to the cage as Chris enters it. He does a similar greeting to the watchers and then, surprisingly, he shakes Jeno's hand in a fair manner. Then you notice how Jaemin enters the cage, while some other guy goes up to Chris as well.

Of course, Jaemin is Jeno´s friend. It´s only natural that he will support him and help with strategies and so on. You notice how they are whispering something. Then, Jeno stiffens visibly. His gaze sweeps through the crowd more precisely, until his eyes land right on your figure.

You freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. He stares into your soul, but you can´t read his thoughts one bit. He just looks at you for a few seconds until he averts his gaze and focuses on the task at hand.

“Wow, he looks really scary, but also strangely hot.” Yuqi´s unserious remark snaps you out of your haze and you turn to face her with a look of disbelief. “What? It´s just an observation.” The girl shrugs and goes back to drinking her cocktail while scouting out the crowd and watching what happens inside the cage.

Strangely, you can´t help but chuckle. Her lighthearted demeanor is exactly what you need to hold out in this kind of environment. And you are glad you asked her to tag along after all. Coming alone wasn´t an option from the start. Choosing the right company was a challenge. You didn´t want to drag anyone into this. But best friends are there for such adventures. And Yuqi never says no to anything when it means she can help you with whatever you´ve set your mind on.

Your focus returns to the main stage. Jaemin and the other guy have left, and now it's just the two fighters left inside. Jeno has taken off his jacket and is now stretching and seemingly cracking his knuckles one last time before shaking out his arms and wrists. He seems ready to fight, and the intimidating guy across from him does too. 

The DJ shouts through the hall another time, riling up the crowd and getting everyone to scream and yell in excitement. And then, a countdown starts. Before you know it, both men are in action. Their movements are fast and coordinated. You watch intensely,looking out for whatever happens. 

The moment the first hit lands you gasp out of surprise. Sure, you knew what this was about and how this was going to go down. But seeing it in real time, witnessing how two humans intentionally hurt each other has your stomach churn. 

Your hands clasp your mouth when Chris tries to hit Jeno head on. The latter barely moves in time to avoid getting hit fully, and swings forward right after, wanting to get a hit in himself. Your eyes follow their movements as if you´re in a trance. And slowly, the cheers and screams around you turn into messy background noise. 

The first round seems easy. Both guys are full of energy. Punches and hits are exchanged. Feet move fast. But the longer it takes for either of them to take the other down, it seems like Chris has the upper hand. 

Jeno seemingly focuses more on defense. Blood is already dripping down his cheek from an earlier graze of Chris´ fist. You have no idea about the logistics of any of this, but your gut is telling you he isn´t fully focused. And it concerns you. Your instinct of wanting to help is activated, but you know you can´t do anything but watch. 

Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes like hours. When it seems like Chris is finally getting more hits in, a bell rings, stopping the first round. Both fighters retreat into the corner to regain some composure and get a short break. The DJ announces some observations to heat up the atmosphere even more. Jaemin stands on the sideline, shouting something to his friend in hopes of helping him regain focus. 

Your heartbeat is still the loudest thing in your ear. Everything feels like it´s happening in slow motion. You don´t even realize the bell is ringing again to start round two. Only when Chris and Jeno meet in the middle once more, does it finally set in.

You keep watching, and somehow you feel like there isn't much change compared to the previous round. Your body moves on its own, and before you can comprehend it, your mouth opens to shout. "Didn't you want to prove yourself?! How are you going to pay your bills if you can´t win?!” 

There is nothing too serious about your statement. It's simply to rile him up a little. To show the stakes. You don't even know if he heard you. But seconds later, there is a change in posture and strategy. Jeno starts attacking more fiercely. He doesn´t give Chris as many chances to hit him and instead takes over, punching him with more power and showing clear dominance. 

A critical moment happens after. Jeno lands a hit near Chris' jaw, disorienting him for a bit and making him stumble backwards. You fear the red haired guy will brutally attack him in this moment of weakness, but the bell rings again. Round 2 is over. 

With only 1 round left, you swallow your fear as much as possible. It´s not that the fight itself is scaring you. It´s more that you can´t predict the outcome and you are simply worried about Jeno. His nosebridge is bleeding and you can see the area above his left eyebrow swelling. Besides that, his knuckles are bleeding, too, and you can guess that he has more injuries than just those. 

Chris looks no better. His lip is split and he has a cut on his forehead that's obstructing his vision due to all the blood streaming down his face. The area that Jeno hit near his jaw looks like it's turning blue, too. Over all you start questioning why men willingly hurt each other. 

While observing them on their break you feel eyes on you. You look up to see who it is, and when you are faced with his eyes on you, you freeze up again. He looks away before you can do anything else. Because of that you don't see the way the corner of his mouth lifts the slightest bit. And when the bell rings for the third time, there is a different kind of air around him. 

You notice the final shift. For some reason you feel slightly more at ease. However, there is no time for you to relax just yet. The fight isn't over. Everything is still possible. The shouts and cheers around you turn louder with each passing second, as fists meet and punches are exchanged. 

Chris tries to take over with offense another time. but this time Jeno doesn't let him. He swiftly blocks his hit and returns it with one of his own. When he manages to punch his opponent's side, and notices the backwards stumble, he adds another aimed hit towards his right side. 

The pain of the punch sends Chris to his knees. He´s ringing for air and coughing, trying to steady his breathing. A countdown starts. The muscular guy tries to get up. Jeno paces around, ready to give him another hit, just in case he manages to get up on time. But there´s no need to. 

When the number 1 sounds, cheers erupt louder than ever. Jaemin and some referee storm into the cage, while some others move to Chris to tend to his injuries. The referee lifts Jeno's arm into the air, declaring him as the winner. And when Jaemin gives him a towel and something to drink, you finally let out the breath you´ve been holding. 

He won. Thankfully. It's not like you ever doubted him. But seeing a fight up close, in its brutal nature, and having to fear for more and more injuries, you can´t help but constantly worry. 

While the crowd is loud and happy, high on endorphins and serotonin, Jeno only has eyes for you. He doesn't care about the burning of his cuts, the ache of his bruises or the cheers of the people around him. The fact that you showed up after all, and even tried to motivate him when he struggled, is the only thing that matters to him. 

۶ৎ

When he finally steps out of the cage and moves to the door that brings him backstage, you watch him like a hawk. He glances at you for a few seconds, too, before vanishing in the other room, Jaemin close by his side. The latter looks at his friend proudly, and recognizes the missing focus in him. "Everything good? For a moment, I thought you would lose, not gonna lie.” 

Jeno nods and starts discarding the wrapping on his hands to reveal the wounds. “I´m fine,” he simply says, then wipes away some sweat and blood from his face. 

“Luckily your little girlfriend stepped in and decided to redirect you into focus,” Jaemin teases and grins at him with a knowing look. 

“She´s not my girlfriend,” Jeno defends, purposefully not looking at the other boy, annoyed by his sudden want to tease him. 

“But you are definitely interested in her. I can feel it. I bet she's waiting for you outside,” Jaemin says, leaning onto a table as he watches Jeno get ready for a shower. 

Jeno just rolls his eyes annoyed. He chooses to ignore the guy and takes a towel. Then he leaves the room to take a shower. When he returns a while later, he takes the usual first aid kit with him and starts putting ointments and bandaids onto his wounds. Luckily they weren´t too big or tragic, so taking care of them is easy for him. 

Unlike usual, Jeno doesn´t take his stuff and gets ready to leave after. He instead decides to check his phone and then stands up to move to the door he left through earlier. Even though Jaemin was teasing him about you, he definitely had to see you before he goes home. So his feet carry him through the crowd a minute later. The bass is booming, people are bumping into him while enjoying the music. But he doesn´t care. 

His eyes scan the crowd. He makes sure to take in every face he sees. And when he finally spots you, he moves towards you, swiftly traveling through the dancing bodies. There are some who want to gather his attention. They shout his name, pull at his arms or clothes. But he ignores them all, too determined to reach you. 

Yuqi sees him first and taps your shoulder, then points towards him. She's been dancing with you for a few minutes already. Once the fight was done, there was nothing else for you and her to do. 

When your gaze follows where she points, and you see Jeno walk towards you, you can feel a pull in your heart. One that tells you to meet him in the middle. Yuqi notices the longing in your eyes, so she tells you simply, “Go to him. I will wait here for you.” 

You smile at her thankfully. Then your feet move forward. You stumble through the people surrounding you, one meter at a time. You are focused on the red haired guy. So is he. And when you finally meet, he greets you with a soft grin. “You actually came.” 

“You asked me to. Even though you took that back. But I hate losing a challenge. So here I am.” You return his grin. Your hands find his as he reaches out for you, your thumbs brushing over his bruised knuckles. “You had to prove yourself to me, after all.” 

"True. And I did prove myself. Thanks for the motivational call out,” he remarks and watches your thumbs move over his torn skin. “I´m sorry for getting those unnecessary bruises.” 

His sudden apology takes you by surprise, which shows in your expression. “Why are you apologizing about this when we both know it won't be the last time you're going to look like this?”

He lets out a chuckle, looks away and then back at you. “I don´t know. Just felt like I owed it to you. You are the one who patches me up when you see how I look.” 

You roll your eyes, but smile regardless. “Well, now you are here, already patched up, and looking like a lost puppy. So if it´s not ruining your plans, maybe you wanna dance with me?” You don't know why you ask him this. Something inside of you just made you do it. But there is no taking it back, so you wait for his answer. 

Jeno chuckles, but nods in agreement anyway. To him you look quite cute, even though you are certainly dressed to impress rather than show your soft side. He takes your hands properly and pulls you closer to himself before he starts swaying around with you. “I have to say, I was wrong when I said you wouldn´t fit in. I'm surprised even. You look like you belong here.” 

You shrug proudly and take his invitation. “Told you so.” Your voice sounds confident as always, your nonchalance returning to you, pushing away the worry from earlier. "Should've believed me when I said it. You better not doubt me again.” 

“I won´t. I promise,” he says, moving closer to your ear so you can understand him better. The gesture makes your heartbeat pick up a little. Luckily, the lights in the club mask the sudden flustered state you found yourself in because of it. 

You keep dancing with him. Your bodies eventually move closer to each other, partly because of people pushing against the two of you, and partly because you naturally gravitate towards each other. You don´t talk too much more, either, and just enjoy the moment as it is. 

Later that night, you check your phone. Seeing the time, you look for Yuqi and see her chatting with Jaemin and some other guy you don´t recognize. “I see Jaemin is hooking up your friend with one of his,” Jeno´s voice rings in your ear and you almost wince in surprise. 

You turn your head to him. “Maybe it's time for us to leave. It´s already late and I feel like I've abandoned my best friend.” 

Jeno nods in understanding and takes your hand to lead you towards her. On the way, he suggests taking both of you home. “I usually don't stay anyway, so it´s fine.” 

Your eyes grow wider when you hear him say that. Did he only stay because of you? You wonder, choosing to not comment on it, though, and instead tap Yuqi´s shoulder once you reach her. She happily turns around, clearly a bit tipsy. Jaemin quickly catches you up on what´s happened. And then, you suggest to her to take your leave. 

Yuqi slurs a little, but agrees in the end, feeling a bit tired from the evening. You take her hand in yours, say goodbye to Jaemin and his friend, and then lead her out of the club. Jeno follows you after explaining to his friends that he´s leaving too, ignoring the teasing from them. 

Outside, the cold air hits your warm body instantly. You clutch your jacket on reflex. Jeno notices, pulling you a bit closer to him. “We should call a taxi. It's too far to walk all the way,” you mumble, slightly shivering. 

“But I live further away from the club than you do. Our ways split eventually. How will you get home the rest of the way?” Yuqi asks, surprisingly sober now. You are guessing the cold has sobered her up a bit. 

“I will just walk the last bit. You are the one with alcohol inside your blood, though, so I would prefer for you to take the taxi all the way home,” you argue, which makes her nod in understanding. 

“Alright,” she simply agrees. Then you call the taxi. 10 minutes later, when it finally arrives, the three of you get inside it. You tell the driver the address and tell him to drop you off at a certain point. After that, the driver starts the engine and gets going, not interacting much more with you. 

The drive passes in comfortable silence. Jeno is sitting beside you, looking out of the window or occasionally glancing at the driver through the rearview mirror. Yuqi is leaning onto your shoulder, almost drifting off into dreamland. You don´t mind either, instead enjoying the warmth and the comfort of having these people with you. 

When you reach the drop off point, you say goodbye to your best friend and wish her a good rest of the night. You demand from her that she texts you once she gets home and Yuqi just laughs, reassuring you that she will do exactly that, but that she wants you to do the same, too. 

You nod in agreement and wave at her one last time before closing the door. You wait until the car is out of sight before you start your walk back to your apartment. Jeno follows you quietly, enjoying the silence of the night. Somehow he feels content about just walking with you. In his mind he will quickly drop you off before returning to his own place and heading straight to bed. 

“I have to say…today was quite fun,” you admit at some point, breaking the silence and catching his attention. He looks at you with surprise but lets you continue. “I thought I would be scared, but actually, I feel like I can handle more than I think. Doesn't mean I support your shady job. But that´s not my point right now.” 

Jeno laughs at your clarification about his job but accepts your opinion regardless. “Well, I don´t want you to visit too often either because it's still dangerous. But I guess I don´t mind you in my world as much as I thought I would.” 

“Don´t worry, I don´t have time to go clubbing and watch show fights every weekend anyway. But promise me one thing if you keep doing this.” You stop your walk to look him in the eyes firmly. He stops in front of you and returns the gaze, waiting for you to tell him. “Don´t overdo it. If it´s because you have financial struggles, let me help you find a different way of getting money.” 

Jeno bites the inside of his cheek. Because in his understanding about his life, he knows he can't promise you that. Especially now that he has a deadline to get the money to pay off his mom´s debt. He can´t tell you this, though, so he keeps quiet. 

You notice the hesitation and how he avoids looking at you, when he slowly nods. So you press on. “Jeno, I mean it. You getting injured constantly takes its toll on your body. At some point you might not return home.” 

“I know, I know. But I don't know if I can keep this promise. There is nothing I am good at besides fighting. My background keeps me from opportunities. People judge me before I can prove myself,” he argues gently, looking at some streetlight a few meters away. 

“I get that. But still. Please try to keep it limited,” you plead and wait for his reaction. 

He sighs, then looks back at you and nods. “I will try. But I can´t promise anything.” 

You accept what you can get, so you let the conversation fade and finally look for your keys in your bag. You´ve reached your apartment when you stopped. And now it´s time for you to go inside. 

Jeno wants to say goodbye to you and tries to leave quickly, but you hold his hand before he has the chance to flee. “Stay the night.” Your words echo in his head when you utter them. He´s surprised by your sudden demand. “It´s late. And your place isn't the closest. You´ve stayed before, so why not crash at my place and leave in the morning?"  

Jeno rings with himself, but eventually accepts your proposal. He gives a silent answer by stepping closer to the door of the house, signaling for you to open the door. Somewhat happy that he accepts your invitation, you smile and open it. The walk up the stairs is quick and before you know it, you are taking off your shoes inside of your apartment. 

The boy looks around the familiar place. His thoughts drift off while you remove your make up and accessories, giving Yuqi a quick message that you arrived safely, too. He inspects the family picture he saw last time and actually recognizes the unhappy feelings behind your facade when he sees you standing with them in it. 

When he finally snaps out of it, you are done getting ready for bed and waiting for him. He wants to move over to the couch and grab a blanket like last time, but suddenly, you stop him. Your eyes express certain emotions he can´t fully place. And when you speak to him, he feels like the air gets knocked out of his lungs. 

“If you feel comfortable with it, you can share the bed with me. There is enough space and I feel bad letting you sleep on the hard sofa after seeing that fight.” Of course, it´s worry. Or at least that´s what he thinks. Seeing you stare at him so innocently, and sounding so concerned for his comfort, he can´t help but accept the offer. 

So instead of lying down on the couch, he moves over to the free side of your bed. He watches you get under the covers first, only hesitantly following. It takes him a few minutes to ease the tension in his muscles. There is no way he wants to overstep any boundaries. 

But when you mumble a soft “sleep well” to him and turn off the lights to relax fully, something loosens in him. He gets comfortable under the blanket and feels the warmth that radiates off of your body. Having you so close to him. Sensing the trust you put in him. He notices the way his own heart feels at ease. 

He wants to treasure this feeling. Having you by his side, in this vulnerable state. There is nothing but care flooding through his system. Even in the darkness of the night, he watches you fall asleep, before closing his own eyes. And then, with the comfort you grant him, he lets his body fully calm down. 

That night, he falls into the land of dreams with a quiet mind. No worries. No fears. Just warmth. And knowing that someone is with him. That he´s not alone. And that someone actually cares about him. 

XIV. THREAT

It´s another normal night at the midnight cafe. Only 30 minutes are left until your shift ends. You are already cleaning up when two men in suits enter the cafe. They don´t look around much, heading straight to the counter. One sits down on the chair in front of it. The other stays standing. 

“Good evening,” one says. The other nods swiftly. 

You quickly put away the rag, then put on your customer friendly smile. “Good evening. What can I get for you?” Something is off about these men. Your gut feeling tells you. But you can´t pinpoint anything. 

"Coffee. Black," the one standing says. 

“Two,” the one on the chair adds, holding up his index and middle finger. 

You quickly get to work, preparing them like you usually do. While you do, you can feel eyes follow every move you are making. You try to keep yourself calm, which is easier said than done in this situation. 

“Quiet here,” one suddenly starts. “It fits you.” 

This makes you stop in your tracks. You look over your shoulder, a little surprise evident in your expression. But you try to stay neutral. So you simply answer, “Excuse me?” 

The guy who said it, smiles at you. “You seem like someone who prefers the quiet.” 

His redirection makes you feel weird. Your alarm bells are ringing inside your mind, yet you keep a smile on your face. You decide to no longer get into the topic with him and instead place their cups in front of them. 

The one standing puts the money on the counter. He pays in cash. No need for change. You quickly put it away into the cash register. 

The seated man takes a sip of his coffee and nods approvingly. “Long shifts,” he then says, directly looking at you. “Must be tiring. Especially when you´re busy during the day, too.” 

His companion smiles at the mention, while you seem more and more confused and your gaze sharpens. “What do you mean?” 

“Spending time with your friends. Helping them out. You are young. Yet very busy,” he continues.

The other man finally sits down and rests his arm on the counter. Then his gaze returns to you. He suddenly starts smiling. It makes your stomach churn. “You´ve been hanging out with that boy quite often these days.” 

Your breath hitches. Your body freezes a little. This is taking a turn you don´t feel ready for. 

“You are good company,” the first one says. “He seems calmer these days. Less…reckless."

This makes you swallow. Have they been following you around? What do they want from you? Your pulse starts racing while your hands try to busy themselves in hopes of somewhat calming your nerves. 

“It´s strange how people change when someone suddenly starts caring for them,” his companion adds, a twisted grin spreading on his face. 

Silence stretches between you. You don't know what to say. But the sweat on your palms is increasing by the second. 

“You are a smart girl,” the one who paid softly starts. “Smart enough to understand how much connections matter. And that decisions rarely only affect one person.” 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Any words you can think of are stuck in your throat. 

“Especially,” the other adds, “when there´s a little sister involved.” 

You feel very nauseous all of a sudden. The world is spinning a bit. 

"What was her name again? Bom?” He lifts his coffee and takes a sip. Unbothered. 

The first one glances at the clock in the corner of the cafe. “It´s almost closing time,” he states. 

“Y-yes.” you somehow find your voice in this situation. 

They stand up suddenly. One fixes his jacket. The other looks at his wrist watch, then at the door. Slowly, they take their steps towards it. 

“We like it when things work out on time,” the one in the back starts, looking back at you still frozen at the counter. “So we hope you make the right decisions…without thinking for too long.” 

The other holds the door open and waits for his partner. Before he leaves, he turns to you, too. “We don´t want anyone else to get involved, do we?” He says, gives you a smile, and then vanishes into the darkness of the night. 

You feel like your heart is about to jump out of your chest. It takes you a few seconds before your brain catches up. Then you slowly sink to the floor, clutching your apron while you start to breathe a little faster. Eyes wide in shock. 

They know who you are. Where you work. And what role you play in his life. 

XV. SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE

You burst through the doors of the estate. Your walk is quick. Steps are echoing through the entrance hall. You ignore the house keeper you haven´t seen in over a year. There are rooms you intentionally skip. You don´t have the time or the patience to run into your parents. The destination being someone else´s office. 

The moment the door to the room on the highest floor opens, the man on the couch reading a book looks up in surprise. His wrinkled face lights up upon seeing you, but the smile quickly drops when he sees the urgency in your gaze. 

“Dear, what´s going on? How are you?” he asks, genuinely interested. Your grandpa has always cared for you. Unlike your parents, he was the one supporting you in your decisions. You swore to never talk to your parents again, which meant not seeing him often either. And under normal circumstances, you wouldn´t be in his office right now. 

But since the situation is about to escalate in your understanding, you have to swallow your pride and take this step you swore you would never ever take. “Beoji. I have a favor to ask of you and Meoni.” 

You get straight to the point. Before you can continue, the old man sits down in a chair in front of you. “What is it, my dear? What can we do for you?” The old man has a hunch. But he waits for you to speak. 

“I need money. Not for myself. For a friend.” Your expression stays serious. And even though you hate uttering these words, you still do. “His mom threw her debt onto him, and now he´s in danger. They are threatening his little sister. She´s only two–” You stop yourself from rambling on and exhale frustrated. 

“I hate asking you for this. And I will accept any decision you make. But I can´t witness anything bad happen to them, just because another person is too selfish to take care of their own mess,” you continue, and your grandpa´s face softens. 

You've always had a good heart. You are selfless enough to help others, going as far as putting down your pride. He's always loved this side of you the most. So his voice sounds softly, “How much?” 

The amount slips out of you within seconds. You watch your grandpa stand up, walk over to a glass cabinet, take out a small jewelry box. When he returns to his desk and the chair he's sat on a minute ago, he opens it. Then he takes out cash, starts counting it, and puts the bills in front of you once he´s reached the number he was looking for. 

You look at the stash, then up at him. He didn't need to tell you anything else, his gesture answer enough. You bite your bottom lip and clench your hands for a few seconds. Then you stand up and hug him. “Thank you. I will pay you back soon.”  

After that you take the money and put it into your bag. “Say hello to Meoni from me.” Your grandpa nods with a smile. Then you rush out of the house. 

۶ৎ

The world feels like it's going faster than ever. The anxiety you´ve been feeling since you´ve had the unwanted encounter with those loan sharks is going haywire inside your chest. You desperately want to run away, change your name and never speak to anyone you know ever again. But you know you can´t do that. 

You are speed walking through the streets. Seemingly, your destination is Jeno's apartment. You aren't exactly sure. The estate you´ve just been at is quite far away from his place, so it takes you a while to get to familiar streets. 

You are in some sort of zone while you head through the streets. You barely hear the familiar voice when you round a corner. Luckily, you stop in your tracks on instinct. There he is, cornered by some guys who seem strangely interested in him. Jeno looks like he´s about to start a fight with them. His frustration is evident in the way his face hardened. 

“I still need a few more days to get everything! For fucks sake I can´t just summon money out of nowhere!” He curses at them. 

“That´ s your problem. It's pay day. So pay up,” one of the strange men retorts, not in the mood to play around. 

Your heart is racing from your speedy walk. It takes a moment for your brain to filter the words into sentences that make sense. When you realize what the topic is about, you quickly make your way towards them. 

Jeno´s face drops when he sees you come closer. He immediately switches from angry to concerned for your safety. In the meantime the loan shark looks at you and starts grinning. “And so we see each other again.” 

The boy understands his words immediately, and a realization dawns on him. The moment you reach them, he immediately pulls you to his side, shielding you a little from the dangerous men. 

“What are you doing?” he whisper yells. He wants to get you away from this situation as soon as possible. You on the other hand don't even pay him any mind. Your mouth is displaying a straight line while your eyes give the man in the suit a stern look. You quickly rummage through your bag. And when you find the stack of money you quickly pull it out and push it into the chest of the man. 

“Here. Your money. Now stop bothering us and piss off,” you spit, earning a laugh from the shady man. Jeno looks at you perplexed. He has no idea where you got that money from. And he hates the fact that you are paying for him even more. But before he gets the chance to complain about it, he´s getting pulled along by you. 

Your walk quickly turns into a run. You are afraid they might want more and will chase you, so you want to get away from there as fast as possible. The boy by your side picks up on that fast, so he starts leading the way eventually, using some shortcuts to get to his apartment quicker. 

You run for a while, turning corners quickly, and jumping some walls here and there. You didn´t even know you could move like this until you had to climb up a fence to get into the correct alley faster. 

Panting, you finally come to a halt in front of Jeno´s apartment door. He silently opens it and lets you in. There´s a glass of water in front of you before you can even ask for it. And once you´ve taken a sip from it, almost emptying it in one go, Jeno finally speaks up. His face is serious and he is clearly displeased with something. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks, trying not to let his anger overtake. 

“What?” you ask, your brain not catching up. 

“Pay off my debt. That was none of your business.” He crosses his arms and grits his teeth. 

In return, you sigh and stand up. “I had no choice. They turned up at my shift the other night and threatened me.” 

This makes his eyes go wider. He guessed it earlier, but hearing you say it out loud does something to him. His heart drops. “Where did you even get the money to pay off such an amount?” 

His deflection doesn´t go past you, but you choose to accept the fact that he turns away from anger. “I asked my grandparents. I will pay them back in due time.” You sigh again and sit down. 

Jeno's arms drop. There is silence that fills the air for a few minutes. “So now you are indebted to your family. Which is something you wanted to avoid. Because of me.” 

“No, Jeno. I am helping out a friend because he´s getting threatened by shady people who know too much about him, his family, and friends. I would rather we have years of time to pay back some money I lent from my grandparents than have some scary people try and hurt you or your sister just because your mother is an egotistical bitch,” you retort. 

This makes him shut up. He sees the reasoning behind your decision, which is why he slowly sinks down to sit across from you. “I´m sorry that you got pulled into this. I wanted to avoid this, actually.” 

“Is this why you started working at the club more, again?” Your sudden question has him suck in his breath. "Don't think I didn't notice the increase of injuries, again. That´s why you also couldn´t promise me to do this shit as little as possible, am I right?” 

He can't help but nod. There is no denying any of what you are saying. He knows that. And because he trusts and appreciates you, he is honest. “Yeah. They cornered me a while ago and weren´t afraid to give me a final date while I had Bom in my arms. I had no other options. This is the only job I have. And it´s my only source for quick money.”

You rub your hands over your face. Clearly, this can´t keep going on like this. “Jeno, things have to change. You can't keep doing this shady ass fighting thing,” you start and see him about to protest, but you keep going. “This is not just about you. You have a little sister who needs you. If you get hurt so badly you have to go to the hospital, or worse, you fucking die, who is supposed to be there for her when she can´t stand in for her own rights?” 

“She needs you. Fuck. I don't want you to get badly hurt, either. Every time you turn up with new injuries, my heart hurts because I know you are hurting, too! This isn't the way, Jeno.” Your display of emotions that's carried by your voice hits him. He isn´t directly looking at you anymore, but your message lands. 

Frustrated, he runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I know. I know this isn't sustainable. But I have no other qualities. There is nothing I´m good at besides fighting. I barely managed to finish high school, and my reputation is so bad, people turn me away because they are scared of me. I don't know what else to do. This is all I got!” 

“But that's just not true. You are so much more than a fighter. I´ve seen it myself. If you can make me see those sides of you, others will see them, too. You just have to give yourself a chance. Fuck school qualifactions. Those mean shit when you can prove yourself with your skills. You are a smart guy with so much empathy. There's no way you won't find something better,” you argue, your voice turning gentler with every word. 

It's hard for him to believe what you are saying. But then he remembers all the other times you've believed in him, didn´t judge him, and supported him. And with that, he slowly starts to think that maybe, maybe if you are able to believe in him, he can try and believe in himself, too. 

“Let me suggest something. At some time in the future, we will sit down together and look for jobs. I need another job again, too. And while I'm at it, I might as well try and finally apply for college,” you propose, hopeful. “I don´t care when in the future as long as you promise me that we will do this. That way we can pay off the loan I took from my family together, too and you won't feel like you owe me anything.” 

There is silence between you two for a while. He is clearly thinking about your suggestion. It sounds like a solution to him. There is just one thing he has to do first. "Okay. I promise you we will do this. But only under one condition.” You listen to him and wait patiently for him to name it. “I need to win this legal fight against my mom first. Once I know Bom is safe and with someone who actually takes care of her, I will stop fighting at the club and leave that life behind me.” 

You take in his words and nod in approval once he´s done talking. “That´s fine with me. As long as you don't break this promise, I will happily support you. Even if it means I will have to keep watching you get hurt.” 

Jeno nods, too, accepting that it´s not easy for you, either. And he is thankful that you don't try to overrule his decisions. Unlike many others, you let him make his choices and don´t try to force him.

XVI. PLEASE HELP ME

Bom has been crying for over an hour already. Earlier that day, everything was still fine. They played happily, ate delicious meals, and enjoyed the bit of sun together that was still left in the cold season. Jeno finally had the chance to see his little sister again, and enjoy the day with her. His aunt being busy, she felt it was fine for him to take care of her instead. That´s how she ended up with him. 

But now, with the clock already showing a time that has passed Bom's usual bedtime, he is holding her, rocking her, trying to make her stop crying with soothing words. He's tried everything in the books. But she just won´t stop crying. 

She has eaten. They played everything she wanted. She got her bottle of formula before bedtime, too. Is dressed in her cozy pajamas like usual, and holds her favorite stuffed animal. Jeno has tried lying down with her, hoping she would fall asleep after a few minutes. But the crying never stopped. 

It seems like there is something that's bothering her. But he just can't figure out what it is. It pains him. Seeing her exhaust herself like that with seemingly nothing soothing her. The sound of her screams is loud and persistent. He hates to admit it, but he´s getting close to his limit. There are no options left for him. He fears he is stuck in this despair. 

Then, a thought crosses his mind. He doesn't think too much about it, and simply goes to get his phone. The contact is quickly found. And before he can debate about it, he dials the number. 

It rings once. Twice. A third ring never comes, because your voice already echoes through his phone. “Hello? Jeno?” 

You are confused about why he suddenly calls you. But then you hear the crying in the background. And moments later, Jeno´s exhausted voice answers your looming question. “Can you please come over? I don't know what to do anymore. Bom keeps crying and I don't know how to calm her down.” 

You can hear the frustration and pain in his voice. He is tired. Stressed. There is no need for you to debate on your answer. “Give me 10 minutes.” 

With that you end the call. Your shoes and jacket are on within seconds. Your lights are off just as quick. And before you know it you are out of your apartment, on your way to his. 

The minutes passing feel like hours to the boy who is still holding his little sister in his arms. He tries again and again to calmly talk to her. Hope never fading. When the doorbell rings, he is quick to let you in. And when you take a step inside, recognizing the disheveled state he is in, the shaking in his arms from the tension he´s been holding back, you discard your stuff as fast as possible and turn to him. 

You hold your arms out. He carries Bom over to you, eyes already apologizing for the bother, but you don´t comment on that. You simply look at him, gaze calm and confident. Then you speak. “Go and take a shower. I will take care of her.” 

Jeno´s shoulders slump in a mix of exhaustion and relief. He doesn't argue with you and watches as you vanish into his bedroom, his sister still crying in your arms. Worries plague his mind as he slowly moves to his bathroom. What if you have no success, either? What will he do if Bom cries herself down to exhaustion, until her Body can't take it anymore?

His clothes are discarded with hesitance. When he looks in the mirror his expression gloomily stares back at him. He looks like a mess. He hates that he can't deal with this himself. Yet he is so thankful that you came. 

۶ৎ

While Jeno is taking a shower, you are busy with Bom. The little girl looks just as exhausted as her brother. So you try your best to help her. 

You check her diaper again. Empty. Not too loose, not too tight. You know that she definitely ate something earlier. The used kitchen tools tell you that much. You check her temperature. Normal. You try rocking her, too, but see that she doesn´t relax with it. 

When you try to distract her with her stuffed animal, she shortly stops to look at it, but starts again. With a small sigh you decide to lay her down. If nothing like this helps, maybe something else is the issue. 

The girl doesn't stay lying on her back. She starts kicking the small blanket around. She keeps trying to sit up. Even when you want to caress her, you feel her back away from your touch. 

An idea pops up in your mind. You quickly take away the blanket and put it aside. Then you open the window a little, to let in fresh air. The sudden cold air grabs her attention again. Her crying seems to calm just a tiny bit, even if it still doesn't fully stop. But you take notice of it. 

When you see her fumble with her pajama top, you decide that she is definitely overwhelmed. So you help her take off the pieces of clothing. The effect is instant. Her expression softens a little. 

You close the window a few seconds later. The few minutes let in enough cold air to freshen up the bedroom. And because the only thing that´s left now is for you to give her emotional support, you do the only thing that seems right. You lie down next to her, look her in the eyes, and try to soothe her by singing and humming to her a little. 

Now that the sensory overload is less, she can concentrate on one thing to calm down. And it works. The girl looks at you. She still occasionally lets out a cry, but it's significantly less. Your body gives her the necessary warmth she might want. And your overall presence reassures her that she´s not alone. 

Your humming and singing is grounding. And when some minutes have passed, you can see how her breathing starts to even out. The crying has stopped now. And her eyes seem to get heavier and heavier. 

With a daring gesture you brush your finger gently over the bridge of her nose. At first it's testing the waters on your part. But when she doesn´t make a move that tells you she doesn´t want it, you keep going, picking up a slow, steady rhythm. 

You do this for a few more minutes until she finally falls asleep, and wait another minute until you dare to move away from her, slowly scooting to the edge of the bed. Then you take the blanket and lay it on top of her so she stays warm and cozy. You watch her a few more moments, until you finally decide to leave the room. 

When you step out of it, you don't fully close the door. You can still hear the running water in the bathroom, so you take a look around. There are some plates and pots still dirty in the kitchen sink. The living room floor is scattered with toys. He definitely did everything he could, you think. And because you saw how exhausted he looked when you arrived, you decide to take the chores off his shoulders. 

۶ৎ

The moment Jeno steps out of the bathroom in a fresh set of clothes and a towel on his head, somewhat drying his wet hair, he immediately notices the silence. His eyes roam his apartment. He sees the ajar door to his bedroom. And then he sees you putting away a last plate onto the drying rack. 

You surprise him over and over. He doesn't know how you do it. But somehow you always find a way to fix things in his life or make it easier for him. 

Discarding the towel on his head, he walks over to you in silence. You can feel his presence, so you turn to face him. “Have you eaten?” you ask right away, voice soft and low. 

He nods as a response, too stunned to speak at first. “How…”

You give him a small smile and lean onto the counter behind you. “She was overwhelmed. I helped her erase the things that overstimulated her. And after that I helped her fall asleep.”

“Right. Why didn't I think of this?” Jeno whispers to himself, mostly. 

“Don´t blame yourself. It´s not easy to find what´s wrong when they don't know how to express themselves fully, yet.” You try to take away the burdening thoughts from him. After all, you knew him well enough to know that he likes to blame himself a lot. 

The boy in front of you lets out an exhausted chuckle. Of course you see right through him. “You amaze me every time,” he then mumbles, and looks at you. 

“What do you mean?” Your question is simple. Yet, it amuses him that you don´t seem to know just how much you've helped him in the few months he has known you. He shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile on his lips doesn´t disappear. 

Neither of you speak after this. He doesn´t give you an answer, instead leaving you in the open about his comment. You watch him in the dim lighting provided by the street lamps from outside. It´s so quiet you can hear yours and his breathing. 

“You know, I thought this night would end with a mental breakdown,” he whispers all of a sudden. There is a shakiness to his voice you can´t decipher just yet. “I started to get scared. I…I didn´t know who else to call.” 

The words sit heavy with you. His choice to be openly vulnerable with you is something you treasure deeply, knowing it´s not something he would just do with anyone. 

Without thinking, your hand touches his forearm. The grounding gesture makes him look at you. You return his gaze, searching for anything that tells you he is uncomfortable. “I´m so glad you called.” 

Your honest words steal a shaky breath from him. His gaze dips down, too, finding the floor before he looks back up. Hearing confirmation that it was the right decision lifts something heavy off his chest. With the relief of tension, his shoulders automatically sack down slightly, and he places his hands on the counter on either side of you to support himself. 

You are suddenly so close to him. The way you so innocently stare at him for signs that he needs more emotional support has his heart soften. His mind empties, too, comforted by your presence. 

You become aware of the closeness, too. But strangely, it feels soothing. Like it´s meant to be. And before you know it, you move closer. 

His eyes follow you. There is hesitation when you are centimeters apart from each other. You can feel his breath on your mouth. And then, when neither of you widen the distance, he closes it instead. 

Your lips meet softly, like he's afraid of breaking the moment. You are both careful with what you are doing, only indulging lightly in it. And when he pulls back, there is a visible difference in his demeanor. 

You keep looking at him, trying to read him. But besides the weight that´s been lifted, and the gentle longing in his eyes, you can´t find any more signs of distress. 

He´s holding onto your arm with his hand, keeping you grounded and close to him. And while you relish in this moment, both of you feel the remaining pull. 

There is no need for words to be exchanged. You just give in to the feelings. Before you know it, your lips are back on his. With less hesitation, and more need. 

One of your hands moves to hold his face. He places one on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You give in to the pull, letting go of any worries and thoughts that have kept you apart in all the struggle. 

There is no lust that comes with the closeness the two of you share. Just freedom. Like there is no more struggle to breathe in the mess you call life. 

Eventually, you part. Your panting fills the quiet night air as you come down from the emotional high you just experienced. Jeno leans his forehead on yours as he loosens his grip on you just a little. 

Neither of you dare to speak up, scared to ruin the atmosphere you created for yourselves. You let whatever feelings just came over you linger. Then, a short, silent shuffle from the bedroom tears both of your attention to the door. 

You wait for any other sign that something is up. But when silence follows again, both of you feel relief. You look back at each other, soft, gentle smiles reflecting on your faces. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles, genuinely acknowledging all your effort. 

Your smile grows, and you squeeze his hand once before you let go. Your gaze moves back to the door again as you let silence settle. And outside, the city hums on like any other night, leaving you behind in the comfort of its noise. 

XVII. D-DAY

“Okay so, I´ve talked to the lawyer again, and she said if she pulls certain strings, things will move fast,” your voice rings through the phone, over to Jeno. 

The boy listens to you intently. The stakes are high, so he´s giving it his best. “Are you sure they will make it work that quickly? I am not fully trusting the process yet.” 

“Yes. I am flexing my name with this case a bit, so they will prioritize it because they don´t want to stand in bad light with my family,” you explain, a certain discomfort traveling with your voice as you do. 

Jeno knows you hate your family connections. He knows you don´t like to rely on your last name or the things your parents have established. That´s why he appreciates your effort even more. He knows not to take it for granted. 

“The system is really god damn unfair,” he mumbles on the other line. 

"Yeah. But that´s our luck this time. We are using corruption for our benefits. Just like any other rich bitch does. So please, keep the information coming. The more she has in her hands the easier the case will be,” you answer, still having heard him clear enough.

With a heavy exhale, Jeno writes down some more things that come to his mind. “Fine. I will trust you on this.” 

۶ৎ

After your call, things really do move fast. Weeks pass by in which Jeno keeps sending notes to the lawyer you referred him to. She keeps in contact with him, praising him for the detailed information. At the same time, his aunt does everything in her capabilities to keep Bom with her as much as possible. She knows not to trust her sister with anything she´s saying, so whenever the opportunity arises, she makes up time to spend it with her niece. 

Then, when the phone call for a date finally comes, Jeno feels like his heart is jumping out of his chest. He knows you said things will move fast. But he didn´t expect it to be this fast. 

When a court date finally graces his calendar on the wall, he suddenly feels the need to scramble and find something appropriate to wear, while also making sure his face doesn´t look too bruised from the fights he still does. He wants to look responsible, not like what his reputation frames him to be. 

The fewer days until the hearing, the more nervous he gets. You stay in contact with him as much as possible. But given the stress and anxiety, you regularly miss each other's calls or don't text each other for days until one of you gets room to breathe again. 

The distance is bothering you. But there is nothing you can do. He hates it just as much. But his focus keeps straying to what he has to do. 

When the day finally comes, Jeno is pacing up and down the halls in front of the court room. His aunt is inside, with the lawyer you recommended, battling his mother and her stupid boyfriend. 

He has no idea where his little sister is. He just knows she´s currently with a social worker. He knows he has to enter the court room any moment now, stating his own experiences with his family and how they used him as a means to an end. The thought is killing him on the inside. He is scared. But he keeps retelling himself why he´s doing this. 

Once the hour inside the room, in front of the judge, is over, he sits back down outside. His leg is bouncing as he waits impatiently for the whole hearing to end. These minutes feel like days. He hates it. But he has to hold out. 

In front of the building, you are waiting for him. You barely managed to get there on time, knowing you wouldn't be allowed inside anyway. But you still wanted to show up. To support Jeno. After all, you came to realize that you are like an anchor to him. In the months leading up to right now, you´ve gotten close to him, so now, it´s no longer just you being there for him, but also him giving you the energy to live life fully again. 

You pace along the sidewalk, anxiously rubbing your palms together as you wait. It feels like walking on spikes ready to pierce you. You are stuck in your mind, thinking of all possible outcomes. And while you know the chances for a win are high, you are still as scared as someone who will surely be convicted for a crime that means a life in prison. 

The moment the doors to the court house open, your head snaps up. Jeno walks down the stairs speedily, when he sees you waiting for him. You look at him with curious eyes, your breath held in anticipation. 

When he stops in front of you, his smile grows. You hate how he keeps you waiting. You actually feel the urge to punch him so he finally spills the judgment. You keep looking from one eye to the other, trying to read his face, to get the answer you want. 

Then, his smile grows. The words leave his mouth and the world stops spinning for a few seconds. You process what he's saying. And right after, you jump into his arms, full of joy. 

He quickly embraces you, pulling you against him with lots of strength. He buries his face in your shoulder, trying to contain himself. But the grin keeps spreading on his face. “I can´t believe it. She's free.” 

“I am so happy for you,” you respond, almost shedding a tear or two, out of joy for this win. He's finally getting the justice he deserves. And you are with him, to witness it.

When you pull apart, you stare at him with a joyful smile. “What exactly did they decide on?” Curiosity is killing you. You want to know what the judge said. 

“Bom will move in with my aunt. She´s getting full custody and my mom is no longer allowed to see her. I get to visit Bom whenever I have the time to,” he explains, still smiling like he just got reborn. 

Hearing this, you move to hug him once again. There is just nothing you can say that will express the happiness you are currently feeling. With it, relief settles in as well. You two no longer have to worry about this constant race for Bom's well being.

XVIII. NEW BEGINNINGS

The knock on the door echoes loud and clear, and seconds later, Jeno swings open the door. He greets you with a bright smile while you return it with the same enthusiasm. 

When you step inside, your jacket and shoes are off fast. The laptop you´ve brought with you is put into Jeno´s hands in the meantime. The boy studies it with a curious gaze, and when you are done you take it out of his hands and strut into his living room, plopping down on the couch as if you own the place. 

“And you are serious about the whole job hunt thing? You sure someone will want to hire me?” the boy asks as he sits down next to you, resting his arm on the back of the couch, and watches you start up the device. 

You give him an incredulous look. “Do I really have to keep telling you that you are capable of more than you think? Jeno please, you are anything but stupid. Trust yourself some more.” The eye roll you give him afterwards makes him chuckle. He doesn´t answer your statement, instead watching the pastel background on your desktop pop up on screen. 

You sign in quickly, open your personal folders and pull out the documents you already made. “Okay so, let´s create an application for you so some horrible boss can see how great you are.” 

“Shouldn´t we start by trying to find jobs that suit me first?” Jeno questions, unsure if there even is anything he would be useful for. Your head turns towards him again and you start studying his face. Your cheeks puff out, too, while you try to think of an answer. 

“I mean, what do you personally think you are really good at, and what do you like to do besides fighting?” you ask straight up, the air leaving your cheeks as you speak. 

Distracted by the fairly cute expression, Jeno starts to think of a few things. At first nothing really comes up, but then, ideas appear in his mind. “I would say, I like working out? And well, I do know how to come by on a low budget. But I don´t know if that´s useful for anything.”  

“... and?” you try to urge him to say more, but the boy stays quiet and just shrugs. It makes you face palm in frustration. How can he be so blind? The sigh that follows when you look at him makes him scratch the back of his head, but before he gets the chance to say more, you start again. “Okay, so you like working out, you are physically on the top level, you know how to fight and defend. Besides that you are great with kids, and in my personal opinion you are actually pretty smart. You figure things out quickly, know how to tend for yourself and care for others all while surviving in a stressful environment. Your stamina is great and you have a strong mind.” 

Your listing of all these things leaves him quite speechless. His big eyed stare makes you break your poker face, the created chuckle echoing through the room. “What? You didn't actually think I wouldn´t find anything valuable that fits many jobs? Look, in my opinion, you are pretty great. If no one else ever told you this, you can be sure I have no reason to lie to you.” 

You end up patting his shoulder before opening the browser on your laptop to look for some jobs. When you type in some of the qualities you´ve just listed, you scroll through the recommended jobs that fit them, and show them to Jeno. “Do any of these suit your tastes? Do you think one of them could work for you?” 

Jeno´s eyes roam over the black letters showing many job titles. He takes each of them in, visually trying to imagine himself in the role that´s presented. Body guard, kindergarten teacher, personal trainer. Somehow, all of these felt a little off. It´s not easy for him to try and imagine himself as something other than an underground fighter. So he looks at you for any implications of help. 

However, you just look at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “What do you have in mind for your new second job?” he eventually asks, making you scrunch up in confusion. 

“Are you trying to divert the topic?” you ask straight up, not fully grasping the sudden reason for his question. 

“No, I just…it´s hard imagining anything normal. I am just curious. Maybe it helps me figure it out for myself.” He says, diverting his gaze towards the carpet on his floor. He feels a bit embarrassed about his struggle. 

What he misses is the way your expression softens. And instead of judging him, you simply answer. “Actually, I already made an application form for a position at a school for troubled kids. Since I eventually want to work in the field, and study social work, I felt it was a good way of testing my skills and gaining experience.” 

Your answer steers his eyes back to you. His gaze is laced with admiration as he listens to you. “Your goals are so inspirational. I never even thought of what I wanted to be later in life.” 

“But that´s because you had other things to focus on. You never had the chance to do this. That´s why we are here right now. It's fine if we can´t find anything today, either. It´s just important we take this step at all,” you reassure. 

Jeno nods in understanding and keeps thinking about things. You, in the meantime, keep scrolling through whatever the browser suggested. “Isn´t there anything that´s not too far away from the job you want to do?” he then, suddenly, asks, looking at you with some sort of puppy gaze. 

You return his gaze with one of surprise. You don´t know why he suddenly feels like he needs you in closer proximity for a job, but you also don´t want to question him, so you just shrug and start thinking. 

A pout is slowly growing on Jeno´s face when you keep quiet, so when you click your tongue because you remembered something, his ears perk up. “Actually, I think there is. Across from the school, in the same building, is a rehabilitation center for mostly older people who recover from sickness or injury. I think their gym is still looking for someone willing to support the old folks with their exercises while keeping up with the friendly chatter.” 

“Can´t I do that kind of job?” he asks, thinking that he definitely qualifies for the physical tasks, and he is sure he can handle chatty seniors. 

“I don´t see a reason why you can´t. Want to apply for the job?” you ask, looking at him with expectation. 

Jeno nods. Inside he still feels a little unsure, but he knows, if you keep supporting him, building his confidence in this department, he will feel secure soon. And if you manage to get the job at the school, he might even be able to have daily lunch time with you, which sounds like a really nice, domestic life to him, away from all the chaos, and presentable enough for when Bom has to introduce her family at school in a few years time, too. 

Happy that he found something he is interested in doing, you smile at him and open a writing program after. “Alright. Let´s get started on that CV then. I will help you with that.” 

“What does yours look like?” Curiosity gets the best of him, so he asks you. The question triggers an even prouder smile from you so you go to open the files you had created a week ago and show them to him. 

The application looks really professional in Jeno´s eyes and he admires your eye for detail and design on it. Impressed, he hums. “Are you secretly a graphic designer or something? How can you make this look so professional while also adding your personal touch with those cutesy designs?” 

“Oh that? I just got carried away. It was too cute to delete so I tried to somehow implement it without ruining the serious aspects of what it needs to portray,” you half mumble, trying not to let his compliments get to your head, because really, it wasn´t that big of a deal. Just a normal application with some pink lettering, cute symbols and a cream colored background. 

Once Jeno is done inspecting what you´ve made, you start an empty file and write down his personal information. Quickly, you have the important data down, and add whatever else needs to be on this application. 

Two hours later, you present the final version to the boy who´s busy scrolling through his socials by now. “What do you think?” you ask and wait for Jeno´s judgment. He looks at the file, scans the information, and then looks at you. 

“Why does mine not have cute lettering on it?” he seriously asks. 

“Do you really want me to add pink font and cute lettering to yours, too?” You wonder if he´s joking or for real. 

“Can a guy not have pink and cute associated with his application?” he counters instead. 

“Do you want them to compare our applications and think I made this instead of you?” you question, raising one eyebrow. 

The boy pouts, unable to reply with a good argument. Then he gives in. “Fine. But can we add a blue font at least? I don't like the plain look.” 

You chuckle at his persistence to add some more character to it. But with the way he asks so nicely you can´t say no. “Fine. I will add some more colour. Just for you.” 

His eyes light up with your answer. Satisfied he leans back against the back of the couch again, going back to his phone. 

“How´s Jaemin? Is he sad you are going to leave the fighting scene?” you then ask while busy with the colour of the lettering. 

“Oh, he´s fine. A bit sad his best friend won´t work with him any longer, but he will survive. It´s not like our friendship is going to end because of this,” Jeno says, looking at his phone screen. 

“That´s great. You should invite him over for coffee or something when you successfully get a job,” you suggest, not looking away from the desktop, either. 

After some silence, and you being busy finishing the application for him, you clap our hands together when the file is finally done. “Now we just have to send these to the institution and wait.” 

Upon hearing that, Jeno looks at you smiling brightly and proudly. He debates on asking another question, seeing how your mood is good right now. He doesn´t know if it will ruin it, because he doesn´t know if the topic is sensitive to you. Eventually, he ends up going for it, though, knowing that you are strong enough to handle it. 

“When do you plan on applying for universities?” His voice comes out with a rough undertone, prompting him to clear his throat. 

You lean back against the couch and exhale, a little bit of exhaustion evident in it. “I already finished writing the applications for all the colleges in the area.” You pause after saying it. Something is gnawing at you in the back of your mind. Jeno patiently waits for you to continue. “But I´m a bit afraid of actually applying.” 

The revelation makes him put his phone away. His eyebrow is raised as he goes to look at you with a hint of concern. “Why? That´s what you've been working your ass off for, isn´t it?” 

“Yes. But…” You look at him now before you keep speaking, “Sometimes, I question if my parents were right after all. If it´s really the right decision. Or if I should just comply and apply for business instead.” 

Your admission leaves him speechless. You, the one who never doubted him once, who kept motivating him and told him he can achieve anything if he only actually believed in himself, are afraid of pursuing your dream. He couldn't let that self-doubt ruin it for you. 

With swift movements he takes the laptop from you. He quickly searches through your saved websites in the browser, knowing you are the type of person to have the tabs for the universities saved so you can go to the websites quickly. Then he opens each of them, looks for the page for application, and inserts your file. 

“What are you doing?” you question, sitting up in alert as you watch him, unable to interfere. 

“Applying for university,” he drily says and hits the send button for each of the schools. Only after that does he put the laptop down on the coffee table. 

You meet his eyes with a look of shock. You have no words, too busy still processing what he just did for you. Somehow it´s ironic. You keep telling him to believe in himself while you secretly doubt your own decisions. So him doing this feels like a reversal. 

“The worst that can happen is that you have to apply again next semester,” he states as a matter of fact. “You, of all people I know, have no reason to question your dreams, okay? If anyone is doing what´s right, it´s you. You follow your heart, and I want you to keep doing that. Because if you stop, I can no longer look up to you as the responsible person in our friendship.” 

His statement takes you off guard. The way he addresses you, refers to you. The way he lays open how he sees you, is surprising. But somehow, you can´t do anything but laugh at yourself. “You are right. There is no need to suddenly question this. If it´s meant to be, it will happen. And if I discover that the field ain´t it for me, I can still change course.” 

“Exactly. So stop overthinking this. You are great with people. You will manage this just fine. And it will definitely be the right decision,” he adds, determination blooming for you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. A genuine smile spreads over your mouth and you give him a look of true appreciation. His eyes soften in return. And since the moment you arrived at his place, it´s the first time this evening that he fully takes you in. 

The gentleness in the way you look at him. The way your mouth curves into the friendly smile you always give him. The strands of hair that fall into your face, seemingly obstruct your view, but you don´t care enough to brush them away. It's comforting how you always give him this type of attention. 

Silence stretches between you. You notice his focus shifting. The atmosphere is calm, comfortable. You can´t help but acknowledge his presence more. It´s only now that you notice how close you sit together. His knee is pressing into your thigh a bit. His hand rests on the backrest, close to your face. He is staring at you now, and somehow, it feels like there is longing growing between you two. 

Without questioning it, you lean your head onto his hand. He immediately reacts by letting you rest in his palm, his thumb instinctively brushing over your cheek. The touch immediately sends a quiet shiver through you.

Jeno doesn´t stop the movement, doesn´t even seem to realize he´s doing it at all. Until you softly exhale, your eyes flutter shut for just a second. Something changes in his expression then. The gentleness stays, but it deepens, turns heavier. More aware. 

“You always do that,” he murmurs, his voice breaking the silence. 

You open your eyes again, confused but smiling. “Do what?” 

“Make things feel steady,” he says. His thumb pauses against your cheekbone. “Like I can finally breathe again.” 

The words settle low in your chest. You shift slightly, not pulling away, just close enough that your legs brush more fully now. His breath catches as a result. You hear it. Feel it. 

For a moment neither of you moves. The space between you suddenly feels really charged. Fragile, like any wrong move could shatter it. 

Your eyes focus on him, again. Switching from one to the other. Trying to read him. He keeps up with it. Lets you try to decipher him. 

The tension grows, quiet comfort settling between you two, accompanied by the charged air. Eventually, his gaze slips down to your lips. The memory of that night where he needed help and called you rushing back to his mind. 

He feels hot all over again, thinking back on the way he kissed you. Let you in. 

When his gaze returns to your eyes, he finds them hooded. You are looking at him with this expression that tells him so much. Yet he´s afraid of acknowledging it fully. 

Your hand moves, then. Lands on his wrist that's resting on his thigh. You let your fingers brush over his skin softly. As if to tell him that it´s okay. Giving him the choice. 

With a rising heartbeat, he finally leans in. He closes the distance, and then, soft lips meet yours. He kisses you warm and unhurried, giving you the option of an out any time. But you don´t need it. You return the gesture with just as much longing as him, letting it unfold, and accepting the pull that´s been building quietly all evening. 

Jeno´s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, steadying you, and grounding himself. He deepens the kiss, and you return it without hesitation. 

It´s not rushed. Not desperate. But it´s no longer innocent, either. Unlike last time, there is pressure now. A subtle insistence. And the unmistakable realization that this is something you both want. 

Your hand keeps caressing his, slowly moving over to his underarm. With each passing second, the want you feel for each other grows. There are short breaks for air. But the moment you take that breath, you are right back to kissing. 

With each kiss, the distance between you shrinks. Before you know it, the hand you´ve been holding rests on your thigh, thumb circling the area gently. You pull at his t-shirt, bringing him closer to you. 

Eventually, Jeno breaks the kiss. He looks at you, trying to gauge where you want to go with this while panting. Sensing the possibility for overthinking, you move, shifting your weight onto your knees. His hand still holds your thigh. And you simply cup his face, crash your lips back on his and lean forward. 

Immediately, his other hand lands on your hip. He pulls you closer to him, presses your body against his, makes space for you so it's easier to kiss you. He quickly gets swallowed by the feelings that grow inside of him. The want to have you closer. 

His hand keeps wandering, brushing your waist, caressing your ribs. It steals a short, breathy, gasp from you. The sound has him stiffen for a second, surprise washing over him. But at the same time, the vulnerability and fragility of it turns him on so much. 

You don´t even notice his short stiffening, too intoxicated by the fluttery feeling inside your stomach that´s caused by the way he touches you. Instinctively, you press yourself unbelievably closer to him, pretty much sitting in his lap now, you don´t even notice the moment you grind down on him. 

A low groan breaks your making out. But only shortly. Because before you can say anything, his lips start to plaster kisses on your jaw. Like a man who knows what he wants, he takes his time traveling down to your neck and starts sucking on your skin. 

His arm is embracing your waist now, too. There is no possibility for you to move away. So you give in to the feeling, grabbing his shoulders for support. When he sucks on a certain spot on your neck, your eyes shoot open, and a shaky moan leaves your mouth. 

Jeno can´t help but chuckle against your skin. His free hand takes the chance to roam under your top, while he keeps his assault on your neck going. 

You can feel him everywhere. The heat of his body against yours, his wet kisses on your neck, the hand that moves over your skin. It´s all sending you to a different realm. You can feel how the heat is pooling down. How it´s growing in your lower half. And how the wetness increases between your legs. 

Slowly, you start to feel fizzy. You feel the urge to let out the energy that´s growing between you two. The only way that comes to mind is sweet and simple. You did it once already. So you will keep it going. With the growing arousal, you grind down on him again, pressing your middle against him, over and over. Until you can feel his body respond. 

The air is growing thick now. Jeno can feel the space in his pants become smaller. There is more urgency in the way you move against each other, keep kissing each other. And in a swift movement, Jeno looks at you, your top in his hands, waiting for a sign from you that it´s okay if he does this. 

You stare at him, panting, and give him a quick nod, lifting your arms. The fabric is over your head a second later. His lips are on your collarbone next, leaving open mouthed kisses that travel to your breasts. 

You fumble with his t-shirt, hands moving over the strong muscles below. You pull at the fabric, too. And Jeno makes quick work of it, taking it off with a swift movement, before returning to his previous task. 

Satisfied with the revelation of more skin, you touch his shoulders, his chest, his back. All while your hips rock against his, fueling the fire in your core. Breathy moans fill the air in his living room. Your underwear is becoming uncomfortably sticky. It´s getting overwhelming. 

“Jeno, your bedroom. Now,” you pant. He breaks away from your skin for a few seconds, looks at you, and in the next moment, he's lifting you up and walks to the room. 

His elbow pushes open the door. He lays you down on his bed right after. Then he attacks your lips again. His mouth moves against yours. Your hands hold onto his shoulders. And he slowly climbs over you, settling between your legs. 

Your legs close around his hips, pull him against you, and you relish in the feeling. Another moan leaves your mouth. Jeno descends on your skin again, sucking on your jaw, your neck, your collar bone. When he reaches the mount of your breasts, he gives you a glance. You look back at him, eyes full of anticipation. Then he skillfully takes off your bra. 

His mouth immediately latches onto one of your nipples, causing you to arch into him, overwhelmed by the sensitivity. “Fuck, Jeno~” you moan, trying to contain yourself and not completely loose it. 

He simply hums against you, the vibration of it doing nothing against the way every sensation travels right to your pussy. You can feel his erection growing between your legs. It fuels your desire to do something, too. So while he keeps his attack on your sensitive buds going, your hand travels down his chest. Until it reaches his pants. 

Too distracted by the bliss of having you so close to him, he only notices your wandering hand when it´s already busy doing something. A throaty groan breaks his rhythm with your tit when he feels your fingers brush over his dick. 

He glances up at you, a burning fire behind his gaze as he observes you. Deciding that he can play this game, too, he keeps going, giving the other nipple just as much attention. But this time, one of his hands moves over your waist down to your hips, and finally between your legs. 

The moment you feel his fingers press into the fabric of your panties, giving your pussy the much wanted friction it longed for, you let out an unrestrained moan. Your eyes dart down to him, watching as he teases you. And you can´t help it, your hips push against his fingers again, chasing more of that feeling. 

The pace starts to pick up. Each of your hands keep teasing the other, luring out more sounds. Eventually, Jeno has had enough of your pants, so he makes quick progress with them, and pulls them off your legs. After that, he´s back on you. He never leaves you without any touch. And now that he has it easier moving his hands, he doesn´t shy away from pushing his fingers into your panties to give your clit the needed attention. 

“Jeno, please,” you whine. The feeling of his fingers is nice. But you want more. 

The boy chuckles, and looks at you. “Please what? Speak with me. Tell me what you want,” he says between kisses, placing one on your shoulder, one on your cheek, and one on your forehead. 

“I need you. Want you inside of me,” you tell him. Your eyes clearly showing him just how much. 

“Just a little longer, okay?” He knows he has to open you up at least a little bit. He doesn´t know how active you were before, but there is no way he is risking hurting you. Recognizing your growing impatience, however, he doesn´t wait much longer, and dips one finger into you. 

You let out a small gasp with the feeling. He´s careful at first. Your wetness makes him groan another time. He is already way ahead in his mind, and barely holding himself back now. But for your sake, he keeps going. 

When he feels you are fine with one finger, he adds another. He can feel you clench around him especially when he curls them. Your eyes close with the growing feeling inside your lower stomach, and you are fisting the sheets by now, close to the edge. 

Recognizing the signs, Jeno slows down a bit. He adds a third finger, though, stretching you out even further. You moan with the added fullness, your hips meeting his hand in a steady rhythm. 

You can feel the knot tighten. Your breathing is more and more shallow, broken by soft moans. You are going down with the bliss. Jeno keeps pushing right at that spot that feels so delicious inside of you. And then, with one more push, you feel yourself slipping into another world. 

Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers. Your hands fist the sheets, turning your knuckles white. Your legs start to shake. And while you go over the edge, he fucks you through it. Until the last wave of your orgasm is over, and he feels you pull away due to the overstimulation. 

You are a panting mess when you come back to your senses. Jeno´s hand is caressing your inner thigh while he scatters soft kisses over your shoulder. Only when you feel ready again, will he focus on his own wants. 

You glance at him, recognize the strain in his pants. Then, when you are able to focus again, you move. Your hands are on his shoulders, caressing his skin. Your mouth latches onto his throat this time, scattering it with kisses. 

It takes him by surprise, but he can´t deny that it makes his head feel like it´s spinning. Whatever you do to him, it has his heart racing and his stomach flutter with a feeling he can´t describe. 

He is so distracted by the attack on him, he fails to notice the way you shift your position until he´s almost fully on his back. 

He blinks a few times when he realizes, but lets you do whatever, regardless. You already feel horny again, in desperate need for him to fill you up. So you make quick work with his pants, and free his dick from the restrains of the fabric. 

Your hand immediately moves to take him, wrapping around him and moving in slow, steady motions. The sudden friction has his stomach muscles tighten while a groan slips out of his mouth. And when he fully takes you in, the way you are on top of him, ready to devour him. He swallows heavily. 

“Fuck! You look so fucking hot,” he curses, one hand moving to hold your hips. 

You simply chuckle at him. And when you are done stroking his dick some more, you get ready. “I doubt you have any condoms at home.” Your voice sounds a little hoarse, and there is a teasing edge to it. 

Jeno hates to admit it. But you are right with your assumption. With his lack of a girlfriend and the lack of wanting to hoe around, he didn´t buy any in a long time. So he shakes his head. “Hate to say it, but you are right,” he groans, already accepting the fact that you are going to stop right there. 

But before he gets to think about it more, you are already aligning yourself with him. And in the next moment, you sink down on him, slowly. 

Feeling your wet walls take him, he moans. The deeper you take him, the tighter you feel. He has to concentrate really hard not to cum right then and there. 

Stuck in your own bliss, you close your eyes. The way his dick pushes against your walls feels so delicious, you could get used to having this every day. Only when he´s fully inside do you open your eyes again. Your breaths are heavy, and when you look at him, a sweet, satisfied smirk on your face, do you see the way he´s struggling to keep it together. 

You don´t move right away, giving him and yourself time to adjust to each other. You place your palms on his chest for support, and then whisper, “Jeno, no need to hold back, okay?” 

It takes a few seconds for him to fully comprehend your words. But right when he understands them, you lift yourself up and sink back down on him. The sudden friction has his hands grip your hips tightly. He's sure he will leave bruises on your skin if this keeps going. 

Your mouth opens slightly, letting out a soft moan when you start moving. You look at the man below you, to see if he feels uncomfortable with anything. But when you see the hungry gaze, and the way he is trying really hard not to slam into you with all his might, you do it again. 

Your hips lift and sink down again. And again. And then your pace picks up. With the rhythm you are setting, you are letting go. The moans are spilling out of you. Jeno´s knuckles are turning white. And even though you told him not to hold back, he still doesn´t want to hold you in place and abuse your pussy. 

With each move of your hips, your pace increases. The knot in your lower stomach starts to form quickly. The sounds you two make turn you on even more. And the longer you keep this up, the closer you are to another orgasm. 

Jeno notices. He can feel the way you clench around him, the way your movements get sloppier. He guesses your thighs are starting to burn, too. Feeling close himself, it takes every bit of willpower in him to hold out longer. There is a sudden switch in him, though, and within seconds he has decided he wants you to come differently. 

In fast movements you find yourself back on your back. A yelp leaves your mouth with the sudden change of position. Big eyes stare at the man who´s now on top of you again with curiosity. You are panting, until he starts to move, ramming into you with powerful, rhythmic thrusts. 

On reflex, you hold onto him, moaning louder now. The change in angle has you seeing stars, especially because he feels so much deeper like this. You can't help but scratch his skin within your blissed out state, making the boy his lightly.

He feels really close to release. So to speed up your orgasm just a little bit, he pushes onto your lower belly with one hand, and uses his thumb to circle your clit. The sounds that escape you right after, are music in his ears. He loses himself in them a bit, and then he can feel the edge. 

Seconds later, he releases into you with a low groan, but keeps going until he can feel you clench around him really hard. 

Your legs start to shake again as you tip over the edge, your second orgasm taking you to another world again. Jeno keeps his thrusts going, taking you through the high. He only slowly pulls out when your limbs slip from him and you pant, exhausted. 

When you come back down from the high of the orgasm, you can feel featherlight kisses on your cheek. You lock eyes with the man lying down next to you, and move in to place a kiss on his lips. You don´t care about the mess between your legs, or the sticky state you are in. You simply move closer to him and get comfortable in his arms. 

“What are we going to do now?” he mumbles. 

“Well, you don´t have to worry about me giving birth to a child. I can reassure you about that. I take the pill,” you answer, earning yourself a chuckle from him. 

“Good to know,” he retorts, but the question still leaves open the other things that probably should get addressed. 

You exhale comfortably, exhaustion starting to cloud your mind. “Let´s worry about anything else later. For now, I just really want to cuddle.” 

In his mind, Jeno agrees. The moment feels too vulnerable to ruin it with anything verbal. So he pulls you just a little bit closer, places another kiss on your forehead, and decides to let the topic rest. 

XIX. WHEN THE NIGHT ENDS, MORNING SHINES

You don´t really meet up or text much after that night. Somehow, both of you are very busy with so many things—be it family meet ups for Jeno with his aunt and Bom, or you having to do double shifts at the cafe. You are so busy, you even forget about the applications you've sent out to the jobs and the ones Jeno submitted for the universities of your choice. 

Time passes like it´s something infinite that can´t run out, and one morning when you finally have a day off, you check your mailbox, finding surprising envelopes inside. The moment you step back into your livingroom, you are on your phone dialing Jeno´s number. 

It rings a few times. You are about to hang up, thinking he is busy or something, when he finally picks up with a groggy tone. “Hmm?” 

“Come over,” you demand. It makes the boy on the other line raise his eyebrow in confusion. 

“Damn, not even a hello, how are you?” he retorts, a smile forming on his lips. He knows he didn't greet you properly, either. 

“Lee jeno, get your ass over to my place. I am dying of curiosity and I don´t want to wait more than necessary,” you deadpan, leaving him even more confused. To enlighten him because you notice, you add, “I received interesting mail. It concerns both your and my application. Now put on your shoes and take your ass over to my place.” 

The added context makes something click in his brain. He forgot about the whole job thing, too, too busy thinking about other things in regards to your and his type of relationship. 

You can hear the rustling of a jacket and shoes being put on. Then the jingle of keys echoes through to you. “I´ll be there in 10,” Jeno says and ends the phone call. You chuckle, recognizing the urgency and therefore assuming he is just as excited as you are. So you wait for him, not really caring much about your appearance or how messy your apartment looks. 

10 minutes later—just like he said—Jeno rings your doorbell. You let him in without checking, and just press the button. Footsteps hurry up the stairs, and seconds later he stands in front of you. There is no serious greeting. He just steps inside, takes off his shoes and jacket and rushes over to your couch. You follow and present the envelopes to him right when he sits down. 

“I am a bit scared to open them. You do it,” you prompt, much to Jeno´s despair. 

“But I am nervous, too. You do it,” he argues, giving you a puppy-like pout. 

You debate with yourself, eventually partially giving in. “I will open yours and you open mine.” 

“Deal.” His hand looks through the pile of letters and then takes out the one addressed to you. You watch on in anticipation as he fumbles with the paper of the envelope, almost getting so impatient, you are about to scold him for taking so long. But then, he actually opens it, reads it, and a smile starts to grow on his face. 

You want to rip out your hair with the way the seconds seem to pass like hours. And even though the boy starts smiling like a freak, you still assume the worst. “What does it say? Tell me.” 

“Well, I can tell you right now that you are getting busier again,  because certainly you are starting that job at the school next month,” he reveals and lays the paper on the table. 

You squeal with excitement, trying to contain a bit of it, because the man in front of you is also still waiting for an answer on his own application. So you give him the brightest grin ever, your eyes shining with happiness, and move to grab the envelope addressed to him. 

Feeling almost too overwhelmed, you get up as you open the paper, and walk back and forth in front of your coffee table. Jeno nervously watches you, scared of a negative result and fearing he will stay jobless for the rest of his life unless it´s fighting in a cage. 

The paper of the envelope is discarded, falling down to the floor while you unfold the letter and start reading it line by line. Your eyes flow over the words, and the more you read, the more you feel like you want to jump up and down in excitement again. 

Jeno can´t take it anymore. Your silence is too much for him, so he gets up too, slowly moving towards you. But when you are done reading the letter, and turn to him, you don´t say anything. You just take a few steps and jump into his arms, squealing like a little girl who's gotten the best birthday present in her whole life. 

“We are going to have lunch breaks together!” you say, trying not to yell into his ear as the words settle in for him. He holds your middle while comprehending what you just said. Then he blinks. And binks again, just to stare at you in disbelief. 

“I got the job?” he asks in disbelief, still feeling like he is currently dreaming and fearing that any moment now is the time for him to wake up. But when you nod eagerly, and grin at him, his smile grows. “Oh my god, I got a real job. I can´t believe it.” 

“Yes! I am so proud of you!” you keep squealing and actually jump up and down this time. And when the wave of disbelief finally disappears, Jeno pulls you closer to him and hugs you so strongly, you almost can´t breathe. 

After coming down from the initial high of excitement about both of you landing the jobs you wanted, you come to realize that there are two more envelopes on the table. Both of you glance at them with a bit of hesitancy. You are too scared to look at them, knowing they give you answers about your academic future. 

Jeno takes one of them slowly, playing with the edge of it a little. He debates on just opening it, but then he looks at you. “Should I…open them for you? Or do you want to do it yourself?” His voice comes out gentle, yet cautious. 

You exhale, and rub your sweaty palms on your sweatpants to dry them. “I…I think I should do it myself.” Your heart is pounding in your chest as Jeno holds out the envelope to you. You take it with a shaky hand and exhale once more. “The worst that can happen is that I have to wait a few more years and reapply. A rejection is not the end of the world.” 

The words are mainly to calm yourself down, but Jeno nods regardless. He knows how much this means to you because it's the first step to achieving your dream. So he looks at you, waiting for you to feel ready, and presses his thumbs. 

Taking the courage, your finger slips into the edge of the paper, tearing it open. Seconds later, you slowly pull out the actual letter. Your eyes are closed as you unfold it. There is another exhale that follows while the boy with you starts to hold his in anticipation for you. 

When you open your eyes, you read the name of the university first. From all the ones you applied to, this one was the one you wanted to get in most. Your first pick. You internally curse for pulling this one first, but now there is no going back anymore. 

You scan the first sentences, read the greeting, and then you start to decipher the words in regards to your application, eventually reading what it says out loud in a mumble. “...we are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to the Neo Culture Technology University of arts and social science.” 

The moment those words leave your mouth, your hand clasps it shut. You are in utter shock, rereading the same sentence over and over, barely believing what you are reading is actually standing on that paper. 

Jeno immediately walks over to you, happy to hear that your top pick decided to accept you, and he doesn't hold back from taking you in his arms and hugging you to share the happiness. “Congratulations. I am so happy for you. It´s finally going the way it´s supposed to go,” he says softly. 

You look up at him before burying your face in his shoulder and hugging him back, letter still in your hand. “God, I´m so happy,” you mumble against him, almost shedding a few tears of joy with the rush of adrenaline from the good news. Jeno smiles, too, intoxicated by your joy and the excitement from earlier. 

“You should open the other letter, too. Now you have no reason to fear anything anymore,” he suggests eventually. You nod, slowly letting go of him and going over to take the other envelope. Opening it doesn´t take you as long this time. And when you read what it says, your jaw drops once more. 

“They are accepting me, too…I have to decline one. This is…this is insane,” you stutter, too stunned to form straight sentences. When you look at the boy still standing close to you, you are met with a sweet smile and crescend eyes that stare at you with so much emotion, you almost choke. 

“See, there was no need to be scared. You are just that amazing,” he says, and sets his hand down on your shoulder to ground you a little and make sure you know this is all real. 

Hearing him say that, you smile back. “Thank you for believing in me. And sending out the applications. If it wasn´t for you doing that, I would still doubt myself and wait to finally do it myself.” 

“It´s nothing.” He shakes off your words. You want to argue but he stops you before you can. “Actually, there is one more thing we need an answer to, today,” he then mumbles, looking away and scratching the back of his head. 

You put down the papers, and look at him with a raised eyebrow, too confused about his statement. All envelopes are already opened. So what does he mean? 

Your silence makes him return his gaze to you. He is met with your puzzled expression and chuckles because he knows he has to elaborate. But before he does, he gently takes your wrist and guides you towards your couch so you can sit down with him. 

He doesn´t let go of it, either, once he sits down. Instead, his thumb starts drawing little circles onto your skin. You can sense the nervousness that´s suddenly coming from him, but you don´t push it. You wait for him to feel ready. 

Then, he finally faces you. “I…have no idea what the future has in store for either of us,” he starts, swallowing shortly after. His thumb even stops its movement on your wrist. “I know you are going to be busy with the second job and when you start your studies, but…” He stops. You recognize just how hard it is for him to keep going, even though you don´t know what he wants to say. 

You encourage him regardless. “Jeno, it´s okay.” Your voice is gentle. Careful not to break the fragile courage he has built to speak. 

And it lands. The words have an effect. Because in the next moment, his gaze finds yours again. He exhales another time, and goes on. “Y/N, I´ve started to like you a lot. And I´m really scared we are going to see each other less if we get so busy now. So I just…do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

There is silence. Then you let out a chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. “Jeno, you are so cute, you know that?” you start and take his hand in yours. “I like you too. And of course I want to.” You smile now, a little overwhelmed by all the positive feelings. 

Immediately after you answer him, his eyes light up. He pulls you close for the third time, not knowing where to go with his joy, so his arms wrap around you and he buries his face in your neck. 

You reciprocate the embrace and brush your fingers through his hair, adoring this soft side of him that he's been showing more often recently. You really could get used to this. 

Jeno´s next words have you chuckle again. The boy really is just so silly sometimes, it´s simply too cute. “I am so happy right now, I could kiss you.” It sounds innocent, and you are sure he didn't fully realize what he said. 

“What´s stopping you?” you retort then, a lazy smile on your face. His head shoots up, surprised by the boldness, even though, really, he should have expected it. His eyes are wide until he recovers from this weird daze he is in with all the serotonin. Then, his hands cup your face, and in the next moment, he pulls you closer. You meet him in the middle, gently placing your lips on his as you kiss him with so much love. 

When you break apart, you are sure your face is going to cramp from all the smiling you´ve been doing the past half hour. But you don´t really care. There are too little ways to express just how lucky you feel right now. And you are sure, Jeno feels the same. 

۶ৎ

Six months later, you´ve gotten used to university life. It´s been a few weeks since you started courses, and you have to say, it´s exactly what you´ve been looking forward to. You finally feel like all the work and stress was for something. That you finally reached the first goal in your life, defeating the doubt your parents showed you. 

You´ve decided to stop working at the midnight cafe a month ago as well, feeling that the job at the school and studying at university is enough for you now. You are happy with what you are doing and you wouldn´t want it any other way, even if that cafe holds a lot of memories and beginnings for you. 

You see Jeno often. For one because he literally works in the same building, sharing lunch breaks with you as planned, and for the other, because you are currently looking for a bigger apartment so the two of you can move in together. 

The big step lights a new fire inside of you. Life has been so forgiving now that you´ve established this rhythm with him. If anyone saw you two together, they would definitely judge you as the happiest couple on the planet right now. It feels so great to breathe again, not having to worry about the issues you resolved together in the past. Even though you had to give that stressful time the benefit of the doubt. It's precisely because of those times that you found new friendship and love. 

If you had the chance to change anything, you wouldn´t dare to do anything. Times were rough, yes. But you wouldn't want to risk changing the outcome. Diving into all these unknown things, holding up the belief in yourself and Jeno. It´s what brought you this happy ending. 

As you walk through the corridors of the university, you think you dwelled enough in the past. It's fun to think back time and time again, remembering how everything came to be, but now the focus is on what's ahead of you. 

So when you push open the doors, breathe in the warm summer air, and see the red haired boy stand on the sidewalk—Bom in his arms happily waving—you can't help but smile. You take your bag into your hand and start hopping down the stairs, making your way towards them. 

The moment you reach them, you place your lips on Jeno´s, then you greet the small girl. The little girl mirrors your smile and laughs happily. “How was your day?” Jeno asks, looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes, you are sure everyone around you knows he´s down bad. 

“Oh, definitely interesting. Today the prof had a whole speech about some students being on their phones too much during the classes. I had to hold my mouth shut to not laugh out loud because he kept on going about it, constantly repeating himself. And by the time he was done, the class was over which made him even angrier.” You chuckle as you tell him about your day. 

While you talk, you start walking, enjoying the warm breeze of the wind and the sunshine that meets your skin. Bom eventually starts to move a lot so Jeno sets her down, instead taking her hand and leisurely walking with her alongside you. He laughs whenever you say something funny, or asks questions about the few new friends you've made. 

“Right, this reminds me, Karina asked me if I had a daughter the other day. She really thought Bom was our kid.” You chuckle while saying this. But the shade of red that starts to grace Jeno´s ears doesn´t go past you either. 

Some images pop up in his head while you mention it. He tries to contain himself, but your expression tells him there is no need. “What did you say?” he asks, curious.

“I teased her at first, but then told her the truth. Still, it was quite the talk. And then I had to think about you, because honestly, Bom kind of does feel like a daughter. And while she is just your little sister, she matters just as much to me,” you answer honestly, putting certain words in quotation marks. 

Jeno smiles hearing that. He knows you care about Bom as much as he does, so he appreciates you mentioning it. “Anyway, are you ready to meet Jaemin and Yuqi later? Can´t believe we are clubbing for the first time since forever.” Your voice breaks through, again, reminding him of your plans. 

“I told them we will have a playdate with Bomi first and get ready once we bring her back to my aunt. So I hope they don´t get on our nerves if we are late. But over all, I have to say I am actually quite excited,” he reveals, laughing a little while he imagines Jaemin scolding him for not coming earlier. 

You giggle, too, and take Bom´s other hand when she pulls at your pants for your attention. “If he complains just tell me. I will scold him in return for still working at that shady ass club.” This makes Jeno laugh even more. He knows you´ve tried to get Jaemin to do something more honest, too, but his best friend is just way too stubborn. He recalls the way he argued that he first has to find himself a girlfriend the same way he did. So unless such a girl comes and drags him out of the club, he won´t change careers anytime soon. 

You keep walking and joking around more while making your way to the playground. Jeno has packed some sandwiches he takes out when you arrive. And then, after eating, you start playing with the little girl, pushing her on the swings or helping her climb the wooden pirate ship in the sandpit. Jeno watches you, eventually joining in on the fun. 

۶ৎ

Later that night, as promised, and after saying goodbye to his little sister, he walks with you, hand in hand. The bass is audible outside. And the moment you step inside, the music hits you head on. You don´t mind, however. You are looking forward to having some fun with your boyfriend, and so is he. 

You two greet Jaemin when you finally see him. The boy teases his friend and then you. “Hey, snow lion, long time no see. How is it going.” 

Laughter escapes you as you hit his upper arm playfully. “Yah, bunny boy, how about you tell me where my best friend is? She texted me she´s already here,” you retort, earning yourself an amused look from Jeno. 

Jaemin, who is used to this kind of banter with you already, points towards the bar. Of course Yuqi is there. You excuse yourself for a moment to get her and help her with the drinks. And while you are away, Jeno catches up with his friend. “Ready for a fight?” the boy teases. 

Jeno shakes his head amused. “Those times are over. If anything, I gotta watch you in there. You used to fight, too. Where did the courage go, huh?” he teases playfully. The conversation keeps going, and when you return with the young woman, carrying 4 glasses of different concoctions of alcohol with her, the boys help you by taking one from each of you. 

For the rest of the night, the atmosphere stays great. The four of you enjoy the music, the drinks. Eventually, you find yourself close to your boyfriend. His hands are resting on your hips as you closely dance together. There is a familiar tension between you two. And while you look like a normal couple to anyone else that watches, only the two of you understand how intimate this moment really feels. 

It carries similarities to other memories. The location itself too. In general, everything has so much connection, and holds so much meaning. It makes this evening even better. 

In the end, your lips find each other's again and again. Each kiss seals a decision. And soon enough, it´s no longer the dance floor you are on, but the changing room that has to give in to your desire for each other. 

The passion you share now, reflects all the hardships you´ve been through together. And unlike at the start, you now move like a team—in harmony, aware that the other will always be there, and that neither of you have to solely rely on yourselves anymore. Everything that once forced you to stand alone led you here. And this time, you don't have to face the unknown by yourselves anymore.

an: I hope whoever read this liked it. I know the romance wasn't the main focus but I had many scenes in mind and wanted to write a story that connects them. It just so happened that this story turned more into a piece of slice of life instead of full on romance. I just wanted their relationship to happen naturally throughout all that happens, and show how some of these types of situations can bring people closer. I am also aware that the smut part might not be up to par, but honestly, I am surprised I even added it in. My focus wasn't on the whole physical aspects of a relationship hehe. And technically, this is my first time writing smut too, so don't be too hard on me 👉👈 Anyway, I hope I didn't disappoint with this. If you want to read something more lengthy and even more slow burn, I would be really happy if you guys check out my other work Eden. It's a lengthy fic that's still ongoing, but I have a lot in mind for it and I hope it won't get boring. Likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated 💕

With lots of love from your favorite yapper (or not. I have big competition with Chenle and Mark. I'm aware) Bye👋

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.” 

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams? 

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs. 

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you. 

“Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground. 

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries. 

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut. 

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.” 

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination. 

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh. 

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission. 

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. 

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

*‎

The next morning, Nalkkeutta’s boss is gracious enough to answer your request for a meeting. 

Mark Lee shows up to the conference room of JSS’s Criminal Division, accompanied by a polite knock on the already open door, a humming smile, and a Kim Doyoung— who you very clearly don’t remember inviting to this meeting. Mark enters the room with a good morning. You nod and your eyes skip over him, flitting over to meet your boss’s gaze by the door instead. “You must be very busy, sir. What are you doing here?”

The wrinkle that forms between Doyoung’s eyebrows signifies that he very much understood your polite version of a fuck off. “I just wanted to escort our client,” he replies, adjusting his glasses. 

You smile at him. “The escorting usually ends when the client has arrived at their destination.” 

Doyoung’s jaw stiffens. Mark seems to be sufficiently entertained by the exchange, attention hopping back and forth between you and your boss. The latter surrenders and ends the episode with a sigh and a nod, completely glossing over you to speak to Mark instead. “Mr. Lee, please let me know if you need anything.”

You hear Mark respond in a pleasant tone, “Don’t worry, I know I’m in good hands,” but you don’t look at him yet. You force the gravity of your gaze onto Doyoung— an unwavering smile that creeps him out just enough to finally give up and leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a click, and finally allowing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the glossy, wooden table.

“Ugh.”

Stuck-up prick. The bane of your fucking existence, had it not been for the reappearance of Na Jaemin, the other capricious asshole in your life. Your head cocks up, hearing the scratching noise of a chair being pulled out. Mark sits right in front of you, maintaining a smile. “Bad morning?” And you finally speak your first words to him, in the form of a raging rant about his hot mess of an executive.

“Hey, be honest, do you want me fired? Do you want me to make my first ever loss? Your employee, Na Jaemin, told me he got into this mess because Yoon Naksung and his friends were looking at him for too long. Does that make sense to you? Is that how a sane man operates? How the hell am I supposed to defend that in court? How the hell am I supposed to defend his ass when he gives me fucking nothing to work with, and all while having the balls to call me useless?”

You’re out of breath by the end of it. Whew. That felt so freaking good. 

“Sorry.” You eject yourself out of your tantrum upon hearing Mark’s not-so-apologetic apology. You leer at him from across the table, watching the stillness of his apparent pleasant expression. “Jaemin can be kind of rude sometimes.”

This guy is Nalkkeutta’s boss, you remind yourself. He’s the source of your fattened up bank account and worsened sense of justice and morality for the past five months—

“Rude is an understatement. He’s a fucking piece of shit.”

—and he’s also somewhat your friend.

“I’ve never seen you this angry.” Mark laughs, relaxing into his seat. “Was he that bad?”

Nalkeutta and JSS Law firm’s partnership has existed prior to your employment here. However, you’ve know Nalkkeutta’s boss even before you’ve entered law school, much less started working here. Kim Doyoung doesn’t know this, obviously. Their background check on you did not go as far as finding out your regular patrons throughout the four years you spent working at a run-down cafe-bar downtown throughout the entirety of your undergrad.

The cafe’s name was The Hangman. Pirate-themed, which was used as a frequent justification by your boss to never fix the broken chair legs, unkempt storage boxes, and occasional leaky ceilings. They add to the aesthetic, he says. 

Anyhow, it was then that you first met Mark Lee, around three weeks into your first shift. He’d usually come in at around 10 p.m., order an old fashioned at the counter, flash you a pretty and boyish smile, then quietly read on the same spot until one in the morning before thanking you and leaving. Each time, you clock the hardbound cover titles. The Laws of Human Nature. Man’s Search for Meaning. Leviathan. Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. 

Frankly, the crap he regularly reads worked better to make him look more daunting than his overall appearance. Mark Lee wore the visage of a cute, college literature major— covered in knit beanies and warm cardigans and all— but carried books and ordered drinks that made him seem like he was fifty-seven years old. The only time you found an opening was the time he finally brought a long something other than self-help or pretentious nonfiction. Kafka on the Shore. “I didn’t peg you as a Murakami guy.” 

Mark Lee was taken aback when you first talked to him. He asked what made you say that. 

You referenced the previous books he’d been carrying along. He blinked, laughed, then said that he actually preferred reading fiction. He’d only been reading all that obnoxious bullshit (your words) because he was fascinated with the mental gymnastics (his words) some people were capable of, and he was just compelled to read more. You’re still not sure how much of that defense was true, but that doesn’t really matter because your conversations gradually strayed away from books to your daily life instead— your classes and readings and the annoying customers you’d regularly had to deal with at work. It’s mostly you doing the talking, and it’s mostly because you otherwise had no one else to talk to to kill time during your night shifts at The Hangman.

“Was he that bad?” you parrot, sarcastically. “He said that you did a shit job picking a lawyer. You tell me, Mark Lee. Do you think your executive is a stellar guy?”

Mark only laughs. You grunt and slump in your seat, arms crossed as you observe Mark’s expression from across the table. It seems like he doesn’t mind you talking shit about his people this much. His lips are pressed in a perpetual, easygoing smile as he eyes the set of folders and documents on your side. You bite the inside of your cheek. From his appearance alone, you wouldn’t have guessed him to be the head of the most notorious gang in the underbelly of Yeongdeungpo. In fact, you would never have guessed it if you didn’t take an extra shift one day at The Hangman. 

You ended up staying later than your usual 2 a.m. to cover for a co-worker. It was a weekend, so you didn’t mind much. Mark Lee hadn’t shown up that night. That is until you saw him come in at the store thirty minutes after two— deviating from his usual routine in more ways than one when he didn’t stop to order a drink, when he was with someone else who you were frankly too intimidated to look at for too long. When he went in and up the staircase at the back of the bar that was otherwise off limits because it led to your boss’s office in the upper area— and none of your supervisors came to stop him nor even attempt to look at him when he came back out with his big, scary companion walking three steps behind him while carrying a large and heavy looking black bag.

This happened a few more times. And Mark Lee would always smile at you when he’d pass by the bar counter. That’s when you knew something was up. But you knew better than to dig your nose into that kind of business. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the ability to see the future back then.

You look at the guy sitting in front of you right now. Mark Lee’s eyes flit up from your documents to look at you again, hands clasped together and resting gingerly on the conference table. “I’d sincerely like to apologize on his behalf,” he starts. You feel a thump in your chest.  “But I hope his uncooperativeness isn’t making it impossible for you to win the case, attorney.”

Yup. That was a threat. Get my errand dog out of jail— even if he bites you in the process, is what he’s trying to say. Mark Lee may have been your bar regular and friend at some point, but right now he is your client— the most important client your firm has ever had the pleasure of receiving. He is not your friend right now. He is your high school bully’s boss. He is the head of the biggest organized crime group in the district. And your law firm is just one of the many cogs running his criminal machinery. One slip up, and he could just wrench you out without a second thought.

“Of course it’s not impossible. What do you think of me?”

You slide the first file you have down the table. Even if Na Jaemin is fucking useless, you’re not letting him ruin your flawless performance record. You’re not letting him give Mark Lee a reason to throw you away.

“What’s this?”

“The witness list. Yoon Naksung, Hong Hyunjae, and Ma Gildong,” you start. “Your dog fucked them up really badly. I already met their lawyer. He was being dodgy about it, but I doubt they’d let him off with a simple settlement.”

A glint flickers in Mark Lee’s eyes are your introduction.

“I already have another meeting scheduled with him this week. I’d like to talk to the three victims personally, but you know I’m not allowed to do that.”

He hums, glossing over your file before setting it back down on the table, fingers pressed firmly on the page as he looks up with a pleasant smile. “When should I take care of them?”

A shiver crawls down your spine. “I’ll let you know depending on how the second meeting goes,” you answer. “Even if the three of them testify, there won’t be enough evidence to prove his guilt beyond reasonable doubt based on what the prosecution has so far. I don’t know why the fuck their counsel is even bothering with this. Na Jaemin would effectively be acquitted from his criminal charges.”

Your client appears to be satisfied, but you’re not done yet.

“However, that won’t absolve him from civil liability.”

No way in hell.

“Yoon Naksung’s party can still sue for damages. And they have enough evidence to guarantee a win. Na Jaemin would be fined at most, and I’m sure it’d be very easy for you to cough up a couple thousand for him. But that’s still a loss for me. And I can’t have that stain on my record.”

Your brows wrinkle. You release a breath.

“Talk to Yoon Naksung. Or Hong Hyunjae. or Ma Gildong, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It might be hard to get through Yoon since he’s the one fighting the most for this, but the other two would be pretty easy. I hear Ma Gildong’s business isn’t in good shape lately. The address is on the file.” You rise up, leaning forward to reach an arm over. You drop an index finger on the exact spot on the document you were referencing, landing a firm thump on the table. “If the court hears that all of them were all equally beating the shit out of each other in a drunken episode, not remembering who started what, instead of it being a one-sided beating from your exec just because they looked at him wrong—”

Your eyes flit up. You meet Mark’s gaze— unblinking and dilated. You clear your throat and look away.

“Then—then, their case won’t be merited. The court would dismiss it in pari delicto.”

Mark Lee seems pretty fucking happy to hear that. He’s all smiles and applause and it stresses you the fuck out. “I knew I could count on you, attorney.”

You sigh, slumping back down in your seat. “I already have Na Jaemin’s medical report. If you could get at least two of the witnesses to cooperate, that would be great.” Mark responds with a nod and a hum. You sigh again. “We have so many competent lawyers here. Why do you keep specifically asking for me? Next time, go ask Doyoung, or something. I’m tired.” You’d give up this illegal but lucrative money machine just to see Kim Doyoung experience the life-or-death stress you’ve been experiencing these past five months. You really would.

“Because you’re good,” he responds lightly— genuinely. A little too genuine for your liking. Mark shoots you a smile as he tucks his abandoned seat back under the conference table. Uh oh. Here he goes again. “How about officially joining Nalkkeutta as the head of our legal department?”

“Hah,” you snort. “My hands may have gotten dirty, but I can still wash them, Mark Lee.” The look on his face tells you that he isn’t taking you seriously. You leer your eyes. You’re serious. You don’t intend on being Nalkkeut’s clean-up dog forever. Five months ago, you just happened to have shit luck with the desperation to match. Both bad luck and desperation are bound to run out at some point. You just hope they manage to burn out before this guy could burn you alive. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve met with their lawyer again. For the meantime, just keep an eye on the witnesses. Let me know if you find anything of importance.”

His eyes linger on you for a while, still smiling. You know where his head is at. Your grimace— even harder when he asks again to confirm, “So, is that a no?”

“Hell no.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “Worth a shot.” At this point, he’s already halfway out of the conference. “See you again, attorney,” he bids farewell

“God, please, no,” you respond with a grunt. He laughs. The door clicks shut. You groan and become one with the almond table.

How many times has he tried to recruit you already? You’ve lost count. You’re already being regularly run through the wringer at JSS, how much more under Nalkkeut? Jesus, you don’t even want to entertain the thought. So, you busy your head with your  current main stressor: the Na Jaemin case. You force your face off the table with a grunt and pull out your ipad to double check the trial schedule. Two weeks from now. Thursday. Fuck all. How did you end up here?

In retrospect, maybe it was actually all your fault. Three months ago— two months into working at JSS Law Firm— you decided that you were sick and tired of being trapped in Kim Doyoung’s legal counsel team as an associate, without being granted any personal recognition or accolades. You wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to get your credit. This time, you’re going to get  your first fucking big girl case. Even if it meant discourteously bulldozing into Kim Doyoung’s office like a chihuahua looking for a fight.

Which you did, only to be shell-shocked and surprised to see the face of your old bar counter friend— who might also be a gang leader— in the middle of a very…confidential conversation with your supervisor.

“Attorney, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Too late. You’ve already overheard their conversation. They were discussing a case much like your current one— one of Mark Lee’s executives got caught in the middle of an illegal firearms deal, and Doyoung was having trouble looking for a lawyer stupid enough to take the case. 

He shooed you out, but you stayed. You simply had no choice. You had to bite the bullet. This was a spring-loaded opportunity, and you didn’t intend on feeling from it.

“I’ll do it. I can handle it.”

You did get your big girl case, alright. You won. But you also had to book a full body spa session after your first time shaking hands with a criminal— just to feel somewhat cleaner. Obviously, you’ve become a lot more jaded now. Your boss has decided to dump all of Nalkkeuta’s major cases onto your desk since then, and Mark Lee has been trying to poach you ever since.

JSS. Jinsilseong. Integrity. What a load of bullshit. Where’s the integrity in working as criminal clean up dogs? There’s neither integrity nor justice here. Yet you’re able to afford a decent apartment because of that tarnished integrity. Dirty money. You make yourself sick, but drive home and back to work again for the next few days with the car that money bought you, because there’s no way in hell integrity can give you a comfortable life.

*‎

“How’s your Nalkkeuta case going?”

Kim Jungwoo comes over to greet you at the division breakroom while you’re in the middle of making yourself a cup of instant coffee after three fucking hours of being hunched over your cubicle the whole day. You jolt upon hearing his voice, flitting your head over to the direction of his voice, and you’re greeted by a face that clearly has gotten his eight hours in.

Unlike you. Jungwoo and you joined the firm at about the same time, yet somehow you look as though you’ve been trapped here for a good ten decades. He bats his eyes at you with a pretty boy smile while waiting for your response. You grunt. 

“Dreadful. Horrible. Do you want to take it from me and liberate me from this misery?”

The laugh he gives you in response probably means a no. You click your tongue, grunting as you set aside to give him space on the counter. “Is it that bad?” he asks, rustling through the cabinets for a coffee stick somewhere. Kim Doyoung should restock and feed his poor laborers better.

“Yoon’s party won’t settle. They’re dead set on pursuing a cIass action.” Jungwoo manages to fish one stick out. “Not to mention my own fucking client refused my visit. I miss the days where all I had to do was summarize court transcripts and deliver correspondences for Doyoung. You never really know what you’re missing until you lose it.”

That was a lie, but you’re miserable. You were able to meet all three of the witnesses last week, in the presence of their lawyer, obviously and unfortunately. Yoon Naksung seems to be their leader, because the moment you uttered the words ‘settlement’ and ‘compromise,’ he nearly jumped off his seat to full-on throttle you. You’d ask why the hell he’s so hostile, but you read their written testimony on the day of the incident. He recounted all the heinous crap Na Jaemin spewed out while he beat the shit out of them. Things you’d rather not repeat out loud. The other two witnesses didn’t seem as passionate as Naksung, like they just wanted it to be over with and forget how much Na Jaemin humiliated their asses by wiping their faces on the ground and proceeding to call them a bunch of bitch babies.

Anyhow, you have your last attempt of negotiation this afternoon with their lawyer. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter at this point. You just want to let the court know that you’ve done your due diligence of attempting to reach an amicable settlement. You’ve got other cards up your sleeve— you’ve always had.

Which is why Kim Doyoung doesn’t buy your whining and complaining when overhears it in the breakroom.

“Get a grip.”

You flinch. Doyoung makes an appearance by shoveling in between you and Jungwoo to the coffee storage. You two step aside. He releases a silent swear upon realizing there’s no more instant coffee left. So, he decides to release his pissy attitude onto the innocent cupboard door by slamming it shut with a loud bam!

You and Jungwoo look at each other. Bad executive meeting. Very bad, you two mentally agree, sharing a look and a nod. JSS has been dealing with negative press lately. Director must have dumped the burden of fixing it onto him. Poor guy. He deserves it.

Doyoung manages to compose himself in a matter of seconds. He inhales, chest rising, then adjusts his crooked glasses with a huff from lips, finishing it up by giving you a lowered stare. “I’m not really worried about your performance,” he carefully pronounces. “Nalkkeut always asks for you for a reason. Mark Lee gets along well with you, too. So, quit being dramatic.”

He gets along with you because you both like Haruki Murakami, never dug your nose into his business, and always cleaned up his messes. You doubt you’d get the same grace if you fucked this one up, especially considering it concerns one of his executives. Sure, you’ve managed to weasel your way out of your previous cases without much trouble besides your inherent workload. The problem this time is your client.

Ugh. Na Jaemin. That bastard. How dare he decline your visitation request when his freedom is on the line here? You need to brief him for the trial, make sure he doesn’t do anything fucking stupid that would jeopardize your case and fuck not only himself, but you over as well. His freedom isn’t the only thing on the line. Your record is. Your freaking license is. As much as you really don’t want to see his face again, you have to. And the only comfort you can find at the prospect of meeting him again is the very clear evidence that he does not remember you— whereas your bones are already shaking at the mere thought of having to face him again.

It sucks. This sucks. But even if it does, you force yourself out of the office later in the afternoon to meet the witnesses’ lawyer at a cafe downtown. 

His name is Jung Sungchan from the District Prosecutor’s Office. He’s baby-faced. He still has the light in his eyes. You’ve never even heard of him before this case. Meaning, he’s far too irrelevant to have the gall to strut into the cafe, say his piece, then leave without even buying a freaking coffee.

“See you in court, attorney.”

Of course this meeting ends the same way as your other meetings have had: no settlement, no compromise, no nothing. You release a scoff once he sees himself out with a cocky ass grin and a pep in his step. Hah. Fucker thinks he’s winning. This bitch is a toddler in the field compared to you. You’re gonna show him just how ruthless the law could be in the hands of someone that could bend it. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

You pull out your phone. You text Mark a go signal. [Give me an update tonight]. You stare at your string of texts you’d just sent, squint, contemplate for a second, then bring up your phone to your face. [Also, please send a message to your locked up exec that I really have to meet him soon. Tell him to stop rejecting my visitation requests. Please. For the love of god]. You hit send again. You exhale. That does it. You fix up your things and prepare to start leaving.

While you make your way to the cafe’s exit, you unfortunately overhear a conversation. Not that you’d even tried to overhear. There are two girls sitting next to the counter— one with straight black hair and blunt bangs, the other one with a very bad bleach job— and they’re both just talking really, really loudly. 

“That’s what you get for fucking my man, you tramp,” sneers the fake blonde.

“I’m telling you, I really didn’t know he was taken!” straight hair screeches back.

Oh, fuck. You didn’t want to hear this drama. You try your best to maneuver past them quickly, quietly, but you end up hearing more information as you walk by. “I already broke it off and apologized! Please just take down the post already—”

“There’s no way you didn’t know, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking your disgusting texts down. All your friends and family deserve to know how much of a dirty, manipulative skank you are. So that they’d know to keep their boyfriends away from you!”

“Look, I’d get down on my knees to apologize, but you posted not only my private texts, but my fucking nudes were in them, you bitch! I’m not fucking proud of hooking up with a man I didn’t know was taken, but you’re going too far! I—I could sue you for this!”

“Hah! As if! If anyone, I’m the victim in this situation! Not you! You’re the affair partner who seduced my man!”

Goddammit. You jerk back after a sudden stop six feet away from the exit. You shit your eyes, mutter a silent breath as you continue to listen to the high-strung argument behind you. Normally, you’re not one to butt into these things. It’s none of your business, and quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck. But maybe it’s because you’ve yet again been subject to do something that desecrates the very principles of your occupation— the very notions of what is just and lawful and good— that you find yourself spinning your heels and stomping back into the opposite direction before you could even reconsider.

“Excuse me. I apologize for interrupting without consent, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

You just want to balance out the scales of your negative karma— even by just a little bit. You’re doing this for no one’s good but your own. The two girls snap their heads at you, one visibly more annoyed than the other. You gloss over it.

“The right to privacy of communication is heavily protected by our laws and Constitution,” you begin. Blondie furrows her brows at you, a loading symbol practically spinning above her head. Straight hair looks at you, confused. You keep a straight face, digging into your bag. “Prying into the privacy of another’s conversation is a civil offense and a cause of action for damages. That’s one thing. Posting someone else’s sensitive and explicit conversations is another story.”

You pull out a card. “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you butting in?” she snaps, the sound of her chair scratching the ground as she stands up in a huff to level you. You set your business card down onto the table, the words ATTORNEY AT LAW, all caps, facing right side up. 

Blondie’s eyes look down. Her face pales. Then she looks up to meet yours. You almost snort.

“It is a criminal offense punishable by three to seven years imprisonment, or a fine not exceeding twelve million won. Or both.” You could very well be jumping the wrong ship here, but you got a fair sense that Blunt Bangs was telling the truth from how desperate she looks, and that Fake Blonde is simply high on a vengeful power trip over the wrong person. “And, considering the fact that you publicized it online through a post, if I heard correctly, it would also be considered a cybercrime. Meaning, you could be charged for both.”

You didn’t think she could get any paler. You’re proven wrong.

“Wow. That’s an impressive feat considering you had no idea you were committing those crimes. Amazing.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to sputter out something incoherent and stomp out in a panicked frenzy while mashing something onto her phone, most likely trying to delete the post. Sometimes witnessing firsthand the dredges of humanity gives you a little bit of comfort that you’re not the shittiest person in the world. You release a breath, readying yourself to leave once more, only to be stopped by a quiet excuse me from the same table.

You look down. You’re met by the way too happy smile of Blunt Bangs. She looks cheerful. Oh, god. You’re not used to this kind of positivity. You feel a shudder down your spine and force down a lump in your throat.

“Hi,” she starts. “Thanks for helping me. Jeez. What a psycho.”

The girl asks if she can buy you a drink as a thank you. You have not known kindness ever since you started working at JSS, and, by proxy, Nalkkeutta, so you were possessed with the inclination to say yes even though you’ve just had an americano with three shots. You settle with a warm jasmine tea to spare your stomach lining. The girl introduces herself as Natty, and starts giving you an unsolicited rundown of how Fake Blonde just suddenly started sending her swears and death threats the other day alongside the revelation that she was apparently her fling’s girlfriend.

She came here all the way from Mapo just to apologize again and beg her to take down the post. And then you witnessed how that went down. “I really had no idea,” she huffs in complaint for the nth time. You take a sip from your half-empty cup, glancing at the time. It’s 4 p.m. Sweet. Doyoung still thinks you’re having the meeting right now. One more hour before you have to clock out. You decide to pay a bit more attention to Natty as a thank you for allowing you to slack off on the job. “Oh, by the way. Can I ask something?”

You set down the cup on the saucer. “Sure.”

“Did you maybe go to Ganghak High School? Around eight to nine years ago?” 

And then you nearly choke on your own fucking spit. What the hell? You stare at her, wide-eyed in both surprise and innate fear. “Why...why do you ask?” Natty takes that a yes and immediately lets out a squeal, followed by the squeal of your name, followed by a very slow process of recollection on your part of a girl with similar blunt bangs in your repressed high school memories— then it clicks.

“I recognized your name on your business card, but wasn’t sure if you were the same person! Whoa! You’re a lawyer now! That’s amazing!”

Blunt bangs. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Pretty smile. You remember being classmates with a girl with that same description. You think they both have the same name. You don’t get the chance to second guess yourself because she starts talking about more people you vaguely remember in Ganghak— the class president who’s apparently on his third try at taking the Civil Service Exam, that one couple who apparently recently got married just two months ago in Jeju, that one kid who had once gotten his head dunked into the trash can on the first day of senior year because he came in without knowing the rules of the school.

He didn’t know who ran it. You did. Natty did. And that confirms the fact that you two had indeed been in the same hell once. 

“Hey, do you have any idea what happened to Na Jaemin? I haven’t heard a single thing about him since we graduated and I moved towns.” 

You look at her, a stiff smile on your face. She was your classmate. She was his classmate. If she can remember all those other people and what their roles were back in Ganghak, she’d very clearly remember yours as well. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him either.”

Natty gets the realization and immediately flinches out an apology. “O—oh, haha. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“No, it’s alright,” you hum, smile softening. “I haven’t heard of him, either.” 

Christ. This man really haunts you everywhere you go. Natty is great at conversation, and manages to smooth over that one bump as quickly as she can and proceeds to ask about any new hot places at Yeongdeungpo, ask about your job, you asking about what she’s up to in turn under it hits five in the afternoon and you have to return to the firm to clock out.

The both of you exchange numbers. You look at Natty’s saved contact on your phone with conflicted feelings.

Now that you’ve managed to slot the memories into place, you do in fact remember her. She was your classmate throughout the two short years you spent at Ganghak. On your first day, she was the first person who’d come up to talk to you— the only time she’d ever talked to you and vice versa. It took nine years for the both of you to have a conversation again. And there’s really only one person to blame.

*‎

(“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—!”

It’s Monday. You race down the now emptied hallways, eyes quickly scanning each door label that you zoom past in the off chance that you got carried away running and missed your room. To think this is how your year starts. You were looking forward to using the opportunity before homeroom to introduce yourself and make some new friends, but no— you just had to doze off because you spent the entire yesterday unpacking. 

It’s a new neighborhood, new school. You’ve heard that most of Ganghak High School’s students came from Ganghak Middle, meaning almost everyone already knows each other here. They’ve already formed their respective cliques and cohorts and groups. You’re currently an outsider, and you need to put in the effort to change that. You need to make a good impression to get some god damned friends and not spend the rest of your two years here as a loner.

Which is why you feel a splashing wave of relief drenching your bones the moment you make it to your assigned class for the rest of the year— slamming a palm against the door, just in time for the bell to ring.

“Whoo! Safe!” 

At least fifteen sets of eyes immediately zero in on you. You stand there by the door. You smile and nod.

“Hi, good morning.”

No one responds. They all look at you— some stares lingering longer than the others— but they all eventually divert their eyes before five seconds, releasing what you could only assume were sighs of relief, and then proceed to drown the classroom in a silence that’s so, so unnatural for a large group of fifteen to sixteen year olds. 

That should have been your first sign that this school was far from normal.

What a great start, you mentally huff, scanning the classroom the seat you’ll be stuck with for the next two years, and you eventually clock a pair of empty desks in the middle of the back row. You walk over to the available seat, waiting to see if anyone calls out saying it’s theirs, and after a few moments of no objections, you sit yourself down on the wooden chair.

The moment you hook your bag on the left side of your new desk, you swore that the heavy silence pervading the classroom just got heavier. 

You look up. You see someone from the center row, peeking over her shoulder at who you assume is you with a somewhat nervous jitter— as if she’s having an argument with herself in her own head and for some reason, you’re involved. That should’ve been your second sign, but despite your confusion and frustration, you sit still. You sit still until one side eventually wins the girl’s mental argument and she rises up from her seat, tentatively stalks up to you as the class’s eyes follow her short walk with anticipation, including yours.

“Hi, uhm,” she practically squeaks out, hesitant, eyes quickly flickering over to the classroom door before looking back at you. She inhales and smiles. Her bangs are covering her eyebrows. “I’m Natty.”

You greet back and introduce yourself. This is a really fucking weird first interaction, but you take what you can get. “Hi.”

The expectation would be that she’d ask you if you’re new here, if you’re a transferee, if you’d like to join her and her friends for lunch, but no.

Natty completely diverts your expectations by saying, point blank, “This may sound weird, but…you should maybe pick another seat.”

You blink. What the hell? “Why?”

The answer comes in the form of the sound of the classroom door violently swinging open, followed by a series of hushed exclamations, and Natty’s suddenly paled face snapping away from you within the same moment, scampering to return back to her seat at the center, without even giving you the grace of a response. 

You didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but it does, even with the sound of graveled footsteps marching their way over to you— the only thing you can see of the late student’s arrival because for some damn reason, everyone has their head down, and you felt compelled to follow and shut up and catch up to your confused and bated breaths as you listen to the chair next to you screech against the tiled floor, and feel the presence of someone plop themselves down with a rattle and grunt, and at that moment, you feel like you were given the subconscious permission to look up again.

So, you do. 

And when you do, you immediately lock eyes with Natty. Sorry, she mouths with a hand up her cheek, then just as quickly turns back to the front, leaving you to think— what the hell just happened?

Hesitantly, you crane your head to the right, sneaking a glance at the person who just yanked the atmosphere down into hell with just his arrival, the person who you’d be stuck with for the rest of the year by virtue of your seating arrangement. 

Much to your surprise, you’re not met by a face. You’re met with someone hunched over, a mop of messy hair with his face buried into crossed arms over the desk with an aura that immediately repels you from prodding even an inch closer. You nudge your seat away to the left, making sure not to cross the invisible mark marked by the gap between your two desks. The only sign of life you glean is the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders— invisible to anyone but you solely because of proximity— which leads you to the conclusion that he’s sleeping.

Sleeping. Something tells you that it’s better that he stays this way. That something is the sigh of relief from the person sitting right in front of you as your homeroom teacher finally walks in.

At this point, you still haven’t seen your seatmate’s face. The only time you know of his name is during attendance, when your teacher calls out a hesitant, “Na— Na Jaemin…?” after double-taking at her class list, answered by nothing but a heavy silence despite having all seats in the classroom filled. She quickly nods in acknowledgement and moves forward after that. Just who the hell is sitting right next to you?)

*‎

Beyond your control, memories from that time of your life continuously flash behind your eyes as you drive back to the firm. A buzz from your phone momentarily interrupts you. It’s from Mark Lee.

[Thanks, attorney. We’ll take care of Ma Gildong first tonight. You can see Jaemin on Monday, next week 🧑‍🎓].

Na Jaemin on a Monday. You grimace. What a load of crappy poetic irony. You reply with a thanks and a middle finger. Mark Lee beeps back with a bright grin in emoji form.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

You’re a pawn in a game of chess that you were born into, and you’d be lying if you said it hasn’t affected the way you view your family. 

Your sister, Fawna, has always had the best clothing, the best tutors, the best choices for everything she could ever want. When she came of age, many balls and parties were held for her to handpick which Prince she wanted to wed to strengthen her seat on the throne. In shocking accordance with her name, you had watched countless men fawn over your elder sister, while you were left in the shadows, neglected, ignored, and forgotten.

If it weren’t for the massive walls that surrounded your castle and the knight who guards you every waking hour, you may have run away years ago.

But no, this kingdom, this cage of stone and gothic archways, is your prison, and you’ve reached an age where you are afraid there might never be an escape. 

One:

Your sister, Fawna, is adorned in the most radiant dress you’ve ever seen. White and gold glitter as she dances in the centre of the grand hall, her jewelled crown fixed atop her pretty head. She’s beaming, and as radiant as ever with her new husband, a lesser prince from a neighbouring kingdom by the name of Mark. 

It’s an eligible match for them both, and the happiness that exudes from them isn’t fake. Your parents would never have allowed their favourite daughter to marry for anything less than love, so they had been sure to surround her with suitable men who would bolster her position without overshadowing her, and she found that in Mark. 

You, meanwhile, stand on the outskirts of the celebration, your arms crossed over your chest like a shield, fingers picking at the plain black dress you’d been instructed to wear. No jewels sparkle on your form; only a simple gold necklace bearing your family crest rests on your bosom, plumped by the corset that strangles you with every breath.  

You notice the soft sound of metal as your knight, a regal man named Johnny, stiffens behind you, and you tear your eyes from your sister to see what’s set off your loyal guard dog. 

A man is approaching, a man you’ve never seen before.

“Princess,” the man nods, standing beside you while Johnny stays stiffened at your back.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure we’ve been introduced,” you muse.

“My name is Jaehyun,” he says smoothly, and despite his omission of title, you recognise the name immediately.

Your heart quickens in your chest, and you realise why your knight has become tense.

Standing next to you is none other than Jung Jaehyun, the Cursed King.

A lump begins to form in your throat, and you swallow it thickly, tightening your arms across your chest. There had been some discourse between your parents and their advisors about inviting this ‘Cursed King’ to your sister’s wedding celebration, but it had finally been decided to keep friends close, and enemies even closer.

Not that Jaehyun is an enemy of your family, per se, but his reputation precedes him. You’ve heard stories of the cursed kingdom to the North, of the witch who had cast a spell on the royal family there after being betrayed by one of the lesser princes many years ago. 

You’d asked your own court wizard about the affair once, to which he’d responded, “I do not speak of dark magic and curses, and you’d be wise not to tarnish the pristine cloth of your house by pushing further on the subject.”

The curse that the man next to you bears is a mystery to all but the magic users who so carefully protect the details of their craft, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about this beautiful man.

He doesn’t look cursed; in fact, if the Gods were to have blessed any person in the room with beauty that rivalled their own, it would be the King currently standing at your side.

“It’s quite the wedding,” Jaehyun muses, his voice soft like rustling leaves in the fall.

“Yes,” you agree. “No expense was spared for Fawna; she’ll be Queen soon. It’s customary.”

Jaehyun nods, and out of the corner of your eye, you see something of a smirk work its way onto his pretty lips. “Customs depend on the kingdom, I guess.”

“Was your wedding not this grand?” you ask, realising as soon as the words escape you that they’re quite blunt.

Jaehyun lets out a laugh, and you breathe a sigh of relief that this mysterious, Cursed King hasn’t found offence in your line of questioning. “I’m unmarried.”

“Oh?” Your brows raise in shock, and you turn to look at the beautiful man. “Sorry, I just assumed-”

“It’s alright,” he assures you, meeting your gaze with eyes that seem to twinkle in the dim candlelight. “I don’t leave my castle often; I’m not surprised that you don’t know much about who I am.”

“But you’re here now,” you point out. “Perhaps now is as good a time as any to get to know each other.”

“I would like that,” the King nods, and you note the way his gaze dips to your throat, where your family crest rests proudly amidst the plain black clothing you wear. “I’m sure you have questions.”

You lick your lips, trying to rein in your curiosity. While your sister was bestowed much of the attention and education of royalty, you’ve still been trained in the art of diplomatic relations for an encounter such as this one, and you won’t be the reason your family offends a King with a supposed curse laid upon his house.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you breathe, turning your attention back to the crowd.

Another chuckle escapes the beautiful man. “I suppose I should have known you’d be formal on an occasion such as this. Perhaps our paths will cross again soon, in a more intimate sense, where you can ask me the questions that are really on your mind.” 

“Can you presume to know what is on my mind?” you retort, heart rate increasing again at the mystery of this man. 

“I can guess,” Jaehyun tells you. “Would you care to dance?”

Johnny takes a step forward at your back, and you turn to look at your knight. His lips are set in a firm line, his hand on the hilt of his sword. His body posture makes it clear that a dance with the Cursed King is not condoned, and your heart drops with the understanding of why Johnny thinks this is a bad idea.

“Unfortunately, I’m not much of a dancer,” you tell him, and it’s true; Fawna received formal training, but all you’ve done is watch. You’ve heard the term ‘having two left feet,’ and you’d hate to find out that it applies to you at your sister’s royal wedding.

“Another time, then,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “I can tell my presence is no longer welcome.”

He turns to you, gently reaching for your hand. With a bow, he kisses your knuckles, holding your gaze, and with a soft smile, he disappears into the crowd, leaving you confused and excited. 

“You shouldn’t have entertained that man,” Johnny says stiffly in your ear, his armoured glove reaching out to grab at your forearm. He inspects your fingers where the King’s lips had just been, and you tear yourself out of his grasp.

“It was just a conversation,” you snap. “No one else has talked to me tonight.”

Johnny clicks his tongue at you, something he does often when he wants to say something pointed but respects your position as a royal, even though you’re a forgotten one.

“King Jaehyun didn’t seem cursed to me,” you say defiantly. “He seemed nice.” 

“Curses live deeper than the skin, Princess,” your protective knight points out. “It would be best for you to remember that.” 

Two:

It’s the day after the wedding, and many of the royals who had come to visit are already leaving. You watch their caravans of carriages and servants exit through the gates from your window, and you begin to feel trapped. It’s not a new feeling, but it’s one you’ve learned to manage.

Your family has kept a three-acre royal forest that abuts the castle, and any time you start to feel claustrophobic, you go there to walk. It clears your head and helps you feel grounded, so that’s where you go.

Johnny shadows you, silent as ever, as you begin your walk down the path that leads to a small lake. It’s a gloomy day, with overcast clouds blocking out the sun, but the birds are active, and the sound of bushes moving as small animals go about their day comforts you.

When you reach the lake, you pause to look at the water, and that’s when you hear Johnny stiffen behind you. Turning, you find the Cursed King walking up the path, his own guard close in tow.

Jaehyun nods at Johnny as he walks by, coming to join you, and he smirks. “I thought I’d find you here.”

You note the way Johnny and the other knight address each other with glares, both of them resting their hands on the hilts of their swords. 

“I don’t think I mentioned I like to go for walks,” you breathe, turning your attention to the King.

“You’re a Forgotten Princess locked in a castle; this seems like the opportune place to go when you feel trapped.”

Jaehyun’s words ring true to your soul, and it takes your breath away. You’re not sure how to respond, so you simply blink at the beautiful man who seems to have taken great care in considering your motives for life.

“Walk with me,” Jaehyun suggests, holding out an arm, and despite Johnny stiffening again, you take it, allowing the Cursed King to guide you down the trail that loops around the lake. 

“I thought you would have left already,” you admit.

“I couldn’t leave without speaking to you again first,” Jaehyun muses.

“Oh?” You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m happy I made an impression on you.”

“It’s more than that,” Jaehyun says softly, and you get the sense he doesn’t want Johnny to hear what he wants to tell you. “I want you to ask the questions you want to ask.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t get angry,” he assures you. “I want us to know each other more intimately before I make a proposal to you.”

“A proposal?” you squeak. 

“Yes. I want you to know the reasoning behind my interest, and for you to enter into an agreement with full knowledge of my position… of my… condition.” 

Diplomatic training be damned.

“Are you speaking of your curse?” you ask quietly.

Jaehyun smiles. “Yes, the curse.”

“I admit, I’m curious about it.”

“So ask, I can’t tell you unless you ask.”

He confuses you. It’s as if he has something restricting him from being open with you unless you enquire first, so you humour him. “What does your curse entail?”

Jaehyun’s shoulders relax slightly. “It’s a Blood Curse,” he explains. “I’m all but damned. Doomed to live life in a solitary manner.”

“You don’t seem damned to me,” you point out.

He smiles, and you note the way his sharp canines flash in the gloomy light. “You’re a sweet girl, that much was obvious when we first met yesterday.”

“If I may, while I’d love to think my charms have bewitched you, I get the sense there is something else driving your interest in me.”

“A prophecy,” Jaehyun nods.

“A prophecy?” You blink, halting in your tracks to look at Jaehyun.

“A Cursed King, doomed to moonlight, a Forgotten Princess, doomed to a captive life. Opposites, yet alike, brought together, wrongs can be made right.” 

He stares at you, his words hanging in the air. Your heart races in your chest, and your mouth feels dry. “You think… I’m part of this prophecy?”

He nods, his gaze shifting to Johnny, who is encroaching again. Jaehyun begins to move, putting distance between himself and your knight, so you follow.

“I don’t know the validity of the prophecy,” Jaehyun admits. “But I’ve spent too many years living with this curse to give up on a solution now.”

“You’re still young,” you insist.

“Not as young as I look,” he retorts. “The curse is a drawback, but I assure you, if you accept a proposal, I’ll treat you well.” 

Your head is spinning. A King is offering you a proposal of marriage. You will be a Queen, which is something you’ve never considered. You’ll be free… if your father allows it.

“It’s not within my power to accept,” you tell him. “My father has the final say.”

“He will refuse. I’m aware of my reputation. Royals tolerate me, they invite me to save face and ensure a positive diplomatic relationship, but… as is the case with many royal interactions, their outward acceptance of me only runs skin deep.”

“Skin deep,” you whisper.

“You’re thinking about my curse,” Jaehyun tells you. “Your knight doesn’t like me.”

“Did you hear him last night?” you ask in shock.

“I hear many things,” the Cursed King responds mysteriously with a smirk.

“So what do you propose?” you ask. “If you’re certain my father will say no to an engagement, then what course do we have?”

“I could always steal you away,” Jaehyun says simply. “With your permission, of course.”

“You’d risk your peaceful relationship with my father?”

“To break my curse, I’d risk anything.” 

Three:

“You’re dismissed,” you tell Johnny, who is still standing in your room even though the sky has long since turned dark.

The strong muscles in his jaw feather delicately beneath unblemished skin. “Princess, this is not a good idea.”

“Sleep? Since when is sleep not a good idea?”

“You know what I mean,” Johnny tells you, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t.”

Your knight lets out a long sigh. “My ears might not be as sharp as your Cursed King’s, but I hear well enough. I know he made a proposal to you, and I know you’ve accepted.”

“Did you tell my father about the engagement?”

“No.”

“Why not?” you ask, heart racing.

“I’ve been your guard for many years,” Johnny explains. “Your father is my King, but you are my Princess. Forgotten or not.”

Your skin tingles at his words. So he knows how you view yourself. How you think of yourself as forgotten.

“I can’t stay here one more day,” you insist. “This is not my home.”

“A cursed kingdom, a Cursed King, can’t be better than this,” Johnny says, and you get the sense he’s dejected. 

“Jaehyun is the first person who has really talked to me in what feels like years,” you tell him, frowning. “Did you hear his prophecy?”

“Sounded like more of a children’s rhyme than a prophecy,” Johnny scoffs. 

Your frown deepens. “He believes it.”

“He’s cursed, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s insane.” 

“Johnny. I’m leaving,” you say firmly. “Tonight. And you won’t be able to stop me.”

“I guess not,” Johnny sighs deeply. “Which is why I’ll go with you.” 

Four:

“What’s this?” Jaehyun asks as you scurry toward his unlit carriage with your knight in tow.

“He’s coming with us,” you announce, watching Jaehyun’s own guard stiffen with distaste.

The Cursed King holds out a hand to help you in the carriage, and he doesn’t say anything else. 

It’s a large carriage to be sure, but with three grown men inside of it, two of whom are in armour, it feels a little cramped.

“How are you expecting to get past the gate while holding the Princess captive?” Johnny asks.

“It won’t be a problem,” Jaehyun assures you.

The ride is silent aside from the sounds of wheels on cobblestone and the clicking of horse hooves, and when the carriage stops at the gate exiting the castle, Jaehyun moves the curtain to speak to the guard on duty there.

“I’m King Jaehyun, and I am returning to my kingdom with my servants and my guard, Donghyuck,” he announces.

You watch the guard’s jaw go slack. “You’re King Jaehyun, and you are returning to your kingdom with your servants and your guard, Donghyuck.”

Jaehyun nods once, then closes the curtain, and a moment later, you hear the gates beginning to open.

“What kind of sorcery was that?” Johnny asks.

“The cursed kind,” Jaehyun says teasingly. “It works on lesser minds.”

Your skin tingles at the continued mystery of your new betrothed. 

“Why did you decide to come with us, knight?” Donghyuck, Jaehyun’s guard, asks.

Johnny’s lips form a tight line. “Where my Princess goes, I go too.” 

“It’s honourable of you,” Jaehyun muses. “I’m sure she’s happy for your company. New places can be… challenging.”

You get a sense of foreboding from Jaehyun’s words, and now that you’re on the way out of your castle and into the countryside, for the first time, the true gravity of your decision to run away with a Cursed King is fully starting to register in your mind.

You hope this isn’t a mistake. 

Five:

The journey back to Jaehyun’s kingdom was long, but as you enter the gloomy castle that will be your new home, excitement begins to bubble inside of you. It’s a massive estate, with tall archways and spires that stretch high into the clouds.

“Donghyuck will show you to your quarters,” Jaehyun announces as you enter the castle. “We will discuss wedding plans tonight at dinner.”

With Johnny at your side, Donghyuck leads you through hallways and up numerous flights of stairs, not saying a word. 

The room you’ve been given is massive, with a large four-poster bed. The decorations are a touch on the dark side, all moody reds and purples, but it still feels more welcoming than the prison you grew up in.

“Second thoughts?” Johnny asks when you’re finally alone.

“No,” you tell him. “Something about this feels right.”

“Say the word, and we can leave. We can go back to your family,” Johnny says.

You let out a laugh. “Johnny, we’re both in this now.” 

“It’s not befitting.”

“What isnt befitting?”

“A Princess running away with a Cursed King, a marriage without the permission of her father.” Johnny shakes his head.

“Would you have preferred they arranged a marriage between me and some man I’d never met?” you retort. “Some man who is likely at a much later age than myself? Some man who would use me as a concubine, and hold me in a loveless marriage?”

“You hardly know Jaehyun,” Johnny points out, ignoring every aspect of what you’ve said. 

“I know enough,” you snap, becoming increasingly frustrated with your knight’s antics.

“I have to admit something to you,” Johnny says suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Please take a seat.”

You flash him a questioning gaze, but do as you’re told, sitting on one of the embroidered armchairs in the corner. 

“There are things you don’t know about the world. Things few know. Sorcerers and witches have their own secrets, but they’re not the only non-human entities that walk in the shadows of this world,” Johnny explains.

Your heart begins to race.

The knight continues. “There are werebeasts, werewolves, to be exact.”

“I’ve heard the fairy tales, Johnny,” you scoff.

“They’re not fairy tales,” your guard insists. “Werewolves were hunted to the point of extinction, but some realised they could utilise their talents… as warriors, as knights.” 

“What are you saying?” you ask, your blood turning cold.

“I’m saying I’m a werewolf. And so is Donghyuck. And Jaehyun is something else entirely. Something not quite human.”

Your lips part in shock. “Why did you not say something before?” 

“I warned you he is cursed, and it’s deeper than the skin. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t understand.” Johnny shakes his head. “Werewolves aren’t supposed to share these details; it’s forbidden. But you needed to know.”

“So… you turn into a wolf?”

“Yes, on Full Moons.” 

“And… Jaehyun’s knight-”

“Donghyuck. He knows what I am; we recognised each other right away.”

“Is that why you two don’t like each other?”

“We recognise the animal inside us both, recognise the threat.” 

You knew Johnny had decided to come with you to this castle because he thought you were in danger, and now, you understand the extent of it. There’s a lump forming in your throat, and you swallow it quickly, averting your gaze. “Thank you for trusting me with this information, but I don’t think it changes anything.”

Johnny frowns, but he leaves it at that, and you get some rest while trying to digest the information he’s just presented to you. 

Prophesies, a Cursed King, beastly knights, and you, a forgotten princess at the centre of it all. Sorcerers and Witches have been something you’ve accepted your whole life, but the world has been flipped on its head with these new secrets that have just unfolded before you, and you can only hope that this new kingdom is one you’ll actually belong in. 

Six:

“In three days, we will have an intimate wedding,” Jaehyun confirms. “I’ve never been one for extravagance or socialising for the sake of diplomatic relations.” 

Johnny clicks his tongue behind you, and you can tell this is yet another break of traditional norms that is annoying him, but to you, this plan sounds perfect.

“And you think once we are married, your curse will be broken?” you ask.

“I’m hopeful,” Jaehyun nods. 

“What if it’s not?” Johnny asks, becoming bolder by the hour he spends in this new kingdom.

Now it’s Donghyuck’s turn to growl at the outburst, and Jaehyun raises a hand to silence his knight. 

“Whether the prophecy is fulfilled or not, nothing will change.” Jaehyun’s gaze turns to you, and it softens. “I think we will have a good marriage regardless. I promise to treat you well, to respect you, to let you be free, to be a protector and a loving husband, cursed or not.”

Satisfied with his response, you return to your dinner, and you note that Jaehyun doesn’t eat. He’d made some mention of having food when you returned from your journey, but there’s still something unsettling about the Cursed King not eating or drinking in front of you.

“There’s one final matter,” Jaehyun notes. “Your father sent a letter.”

“What did he say?” you ask, grip tightening on your fork and knife.

“He didn’t make any outward accusations, but I get the sense he knows you’re here. He urged me that if I am the person who took you, a marriage would save the reputation of his family, and upon the completion of vows, he would announce the news to your old kingdom as if it were planned from the start.”

“Again, your reputation precedes you, King Jaehyun,” Johnny muses.

“No retaliation?” you question in shock. “Everyone is truly afraid of you.”

The Cursed King shrugs. “It has its benefits.”

Seven:

Your first full day at the castle is spent wandering around the large structure. Every corridor feels like a new adventure, and your silent knightly shadow follows as you take in your new home. 

You’re unsure if the lack of people you see, servants, guards and the like, is because the castle is so massive, or because the King seems to keep a very limited number of staff, but part of you likes the lack of eyes, the lack of attention as you explore to your heart’s content.

It’s around dusk that you discover what appears to be a gallery of sorts, and at first, studying the moody paintings feels like a simple and innocent pastime… until you reach the room at the end.

It’s a small space, with portraits of Jaehyun’s royal family. The first picture is from over fivehundred years ago, but as you circle the room in chronological order, you realise the first photo of what appears to be Jaehyun is from three hundred years in the past.

You stare at the artwork. 

The man pictured is Jaehyun, and the date, worn and carved into the gold frame, is unmistakable. 

The next photo, painted fifty years later, is Jaehyun again, and the next, then the next. 

Six photos of Jaehyun, dressed in different outfits, and dated over the course of three hundred years.

Johnny coughs, and you turn to find the Cursed King himself, standing in the doorway.

“So you’ve discovered another one of my secrets, Princess,” Jaehyun smiles.

“Is this a trick?” you ask. “The dates-”

“The dates are all correct,” he nods, approaching you.

“But… that would make you over three hundred years old!” you gasp.

“I’m the Cursed King,” Jaehyun breathes. “Cursed to a long, solitary life. Outliving every person I have ever cared for. Without the prophecy, without the possibility of reprieve, my heart would have turned to stone years ago.”

“Really?”

“Metaphorically,” he laughs. “It’s been a long struggle.”

“Tell me more about how you were cursed,” you insist.

“My father was a great King,” Jaehyun starts. “But his younger brother did not share the same virtues. He plotted to overthrow my father, and to do that, he enlisted the help of a witch. My uncle seduced her, using her power and knowledge to kill my father so he could take the throne for himself. I was a boy at the time.” You note the way Jaehyun’s eye twitches at the memory. “He promised to make the witch into a Queen, but he broke that promise. So she cursed him.”

“Your uncle is like you?”

“He was.” Jaehyun lets out a deep sigh. “A knight who was loyal to my father saved me from the castle, from what would have been an assassination attempt on my life as well, and he trained me in the woods for many years. But the need for vengeance never went away. When I became a young man, I went looking for my Uncle, and I killed him.” 

Jaehyun looks down, playing with a ring on his pinky. 

“What I didn’t know was that the curse was a Blood Curse. I nearly died trying to kill my uncle to avenge my father. You see, the curse made him almost impenetrable. Almost. But I found his weak spot, and when I finally made the death blow- when I fell dying to the ground next to my uncle, a large quantity of his blood soaked into my wounds, and it infected me with the curse. So here I am, the living memory of the wrongs my uncle inflicted on his house, and on his kingdom.”

“So you’re not the original Cursed King?” you ask in shock.

“No, but I still bear the curse, nonetheless.” Jaehyun offers you a sad smile. “There are more details I haven’t yet shared with you.”

“Tell me,” you insist, reaching out and taking his hand.

“Blood Curses require blood to fuel them,” Jaehyun tells you. “Food, water, wine, no regular diet sustains me. I can not die unless killed in a very specific way, but if I restrict my nature as a Cursed King… the agony of hunger is not something I can stand against either, and trust me, I have tried.”

You retract your hand, stepping back as Johnny steps forward, shielding you from Jaehyun with his body while his hand finds the hilt of his sword.

“I’m no danger to you,” Jaehyun says quickly. “The thirst is something I have been able to control for over a hundred years. But I do require blood, and when I do, I have loyal subjects who willingly donate.”

“Do these loyal subjects die when you drink their blood?” Johnny growls.

“No.” The Cursed King shakes his head. “Not since I was able to control the hunger.”

So your betrothed has killed before in the name of his curse.

Your own blood runs cold at the thought.

“Have you shared your curse with others?” Johnny questions next.

“Never. I would be condemning them if I did.” Jaehyun looks Johnny up and down. “Werewolves are the natural enemy of people like me, people who have suffered from a Blood Curse. Some call the few of us who exist Vampires. I keep Donghyuck and others like him to ensure that no one attempts to use my own blood for nefarious purposes. He is my protector and my controller, in that way.” 

After a few moments, Johnny’s hand drops from his sword. “What of the prophecy?”

“A hundred years ago, my court sorcerer was able to help me find someone with the gift of future sight, and a hundred years ago, the Forgotten Princess was seen. But few other details were given; you must know how frustrating and vague seers can be.” 

“Witches, sorcerers and seers enjoy keeping their knowledge a secret,” Johnny concedes. “But I don’t share that same control. I will share my intentions openly, as I have no need to be anything other than clear with you. If you ever hurt my Princess, I will find a way to kill you.”

“I’ll return the respect of honesty and share with you a detail that only a few people in the world know. To kill someone afflicted with a Blood Curse, you must use a sharp object made of pure ash wood. In the end, after breaking a silver spearhead on my uncle’s hard skin, it was the broken end of the handle that finally pierced his heart. He was as shocked as I was.”

Johnny says nothing, and the tension in the air is thick.

Jaehyun offers you a nod and a soft smile. “Now you know everything, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

Eight:

Johnny has been trying to convince you to call off the marriage since your encounter with Jaehyun in the gallery, but you refuse. There’s no going back now, and despite Johnny’s insistence that he could take you away somewhere, find a cottage in the woods where no one has to know you were ever a princess, and he can protect you, you know that would never work. 

You’ve committed to this, and it takes Johnny seeing you in your dress as your tailor makes the final adjustments before the wedding for him to finally realise that for once in your life, you’re making a decision for yourself.

Your knight stays quiet as he walks you down to the great hall, and it’s only when you’re standing in front of the large doors that lead to your future that Johnny finally speaks. “What if I say I’m in love with you, and we can still run away together?”

A laugh escapes you. “I’d know you’re lying. You see me as a little sister, as a ward, a Princess. You’re not in love with me, Johnny. You’re married to your duties as my protector, which is the only reason you’re offering this.”

He sighs deeply, looking down at the ground. 

No more words are exchanged as the large double doors open, and Johnny begins to walk you down the aisle.

Jaehyun is in a dark blue and gold suit, with immaculate embroidered details that accentuate his handsome face. He smiles as you approach, and with great reluctance, Johnny hands you to your betrothed.

As Jaehyun had promised, only a few people are in attendance, and he skips many of the formal traditional steps of royal weddings, cutting to the chase.

He stares at you with warmth in his eyes as he says ‘I do’ and you echo his words with shaky hands as he gently slips a massive diamond ring onto your finger. 

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, and your heart leaps into your throat.

Jaehyun smiles, his hands slipping down to your hips so he can pull you closer.

It feels like everything has come down to this moment, and as your lips press to his for the first time, there are fireworks, but not the magical kind that would signify the breaking of a curse. No, the eruption of pleasure happens deep in your core, and you hold back a moan, pressing closer to Jaehyun eagerly.

He smirks into the kiss and pulls away, breaking the contact and reminding you of the eyes watching your every movement. Suddenly, you feel flushed with embarrassment. 

“Did we break the curse?” you ask, hopeful that maybe he’d felt something that signified the end to his three hundred years of suffering.

Jaehyun offers you a tight-lipped smile, and he gives his head a little shake before turning to address the small crowd. 

His words to everyone are drowned out in your mind as you think about the curse, the prophecy, and the fact that, as far as Jaehyun’s concerned, this wedding hadn’t actually accomplished anything. 

It feels like a failure, and the pain of that runs deep as your new husband takes your hand and exits with you out of the great hall.

Nine:

After the wedding, there had been a celebratory feast, and your lover hadn’t eaten anything. You’d been itching to talk to him, but hours passed before he walked you up to your quarters with your guards in tow. Johnny and Donghyuck had stayed outside the bedroom, finally giving you a semblance of privacy with the Cursed King, although you knew the werewolf knights could probably still hear the two of you as you began to talk. 

Your King had been weary and clearly disheartened, and with one small cut to his finger that had instantly healed, he had confirmed to you that the curse was still in place.

“A Cursed King, doomed to moonlight, a Forgotten Princess, doomed to a captive life. Opposites, yet alike, brought together, wrongs can be made right,” he had recited, frowning.

“Maybe we just need to give it more time?” you had suggested.

“I have all the time in the world,” he’d half-joked. “I’ll let you rest.”

“Will I not be joining you in your room?” you asked.

“I don’t sleep,” he smiled softly. “For now, you should stay here.”

And so, here you are, on your wedding night, pacing your room with Johnny standing by the door.

“I guess the prophecy didn’t say anything about marriage, or a true love’s first kiss,” you note. “All it said was when we would be brought together, wrongs can be made right.”

“It gives a lot of room for interpretation, as most prophecies do,” Johnny nods. 

He’s doing his best to appear sympathetic, but you get the sense he’s happy about all these developments… or lack thereof.

It’s not something you’re going to discuss with him, but the broken promise of wedding night intimacy is hanging over you like a dark cloud. 

You’re a Princess, and due to the virtues and expectations of being royalty, you’re a virgin.

Your first kiss had just been with Jaehyun, and it has left your body wanting more.

“As you said, maybe it just needs more time,” Johnny suggests. “It’s a Blood Curse that he’s been fighting with for over three hundred years; it might take more than a kiss and a ring to break it.”

“I had really hoped it would be that simple,” you frown. 

“I’m going to say something, and you can’t get mad at me for saying it,” Johnny warns you.

A sigh escapes your lips. “Tell me.”

“The prophecy said ‘wrongs can be made right,’ it never said anything about breaking the curse. Jaehyun has it in his head that you will be the key to him becoming human again, but there’s a possibility that humanity will never be within his reach. Maybe you have to consider other outcomes than what he’s convinced the prophecy promises.”

You think about his words for a moment, taking a seat on your bed. “So you’re saying, maybe ‘wrongs can be made right’ means something other than the curse breaking. That maybe it means…” You search your brain for a different explanation: “having a companion will break the loneliness he’s faced for three hundred years.”

“Or perhaps the light you bring to this kingdom will make a difference. I think it’s pretty obvious that part of Jaehyun’s ‘Cursed King’ reputation comes from the fact that he’s been so wrapped up in himself that he hasn’t really been a good King to his people.”

“You’re speaking treason, Johnny,” you tease.

“He’s not my King. You’re my Queen, there’s a difference.”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips. Johnny’s loyalty to you truly knows no bounds. 

“So our plan is, I give it some time, I help Jaehyun and the kingdom in ways unrelated to his curse, and maybe, the wrongs resulting from his curse will be fixed, while the curse itself remains.”

Johnny nods. “I think it’s a good place to start.”

Ten:

Keeping true to your discussion with Johnny the night of your wedding, you’ve spent the past month trying to do right by your new husband and your new Kingdom.

Johnny had been correct about his suspicion of Jaehyun’s neglect of his people. Many of the decisions had been left to a regal man named Doyoung, whose family line had consisted of advisors for over three hundred years. But Doyoung is a representation of his surroundings, and in the same way that the kingdom has lacked nurturing, Doyoung perpetuates the symptoms of neglect.

He’s hard-headed and stubborn, but Doyoung respects hierarchy, and through working in tandem with him, you’ve already accomplished many adjustments to make the kingdom a happier place.

Jaehyun has given you free rein to do what you think is best, and although you’d never been raised to be a Queen, you’d attended your elder sister’s lessons and adapted the teachings to suit your own kind heart.

Johnny is a big help, too, acting as your own advisor of sorts, as a man who was neglected by his own kingdom until he was strong enough to become a guard. He offers a unique perspective on ways to help the common people, and with each day that passes, you know he’s enjoying his time here more and more, enjoying the fact that the two of you can make a tangible difference in the lives of others.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Johnny and a few other guards accompany you on trips to villages, where you get hands-on experience talking to citizens and hearing ideas about how to make a better life for everyone.

Some parts of being a Queen are confusing for you; for example, trade negotiations aren’t something you have any grasp of. But Doyoung has helped you with that, and together, you brokered an agreement to trade some of your kingdom’s raw natural resources for medicine, which you are now planning to take to the village that has several children facing a long-lasting flu-like virus. 

As you oversee Johnny packing the medicine into the carriage in the courtyard, you notice Jaehyun standing by the castle doors. He’s watching you carefully, and when your eyes meet, he decides to approach.

“Headed to one of the villages?” he asks.

“Yes, the children there need medicine. I wanted to drop it off personally.”

The Cursed King nods. “You’ve done a lot in the month that you’ve been here.”

“I’ve done what I can, but there is more to do. Sick children took priority, but there are small fires to be put out all over the kingdom.”

“And so the Forgotten Princess becomes the Kind Queen,” Jaehyun smiles softly. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Your gaze shifts back to Johnny. “We will be leaving soon, but we will be back by nightfall. Is there anything else I can do for you, my King?”

You get the sense there’s something else he wants to say to you, and you give space for him to find the words.

Finally, Jaehyun lets out a sigh, a smile appearing on his lips. “Would you like some company?”

“You would come with me to the village?” you ask in shock.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“I think your subjects would love to see you,” you tell him honestly. “They’re adjusting to me, but having your familiar face would calm many of their anxieties.”

“Familiar, but cursed,” he jokes sadly.

“I don’t think your people care so much about the cursed aspect,” you assure him. “It’s all they’ve ever known.”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Jaehyun tells you. 

“In time, maybe you will.”

Eleven:

You have been queen for two months now, and you’re seeing progress in the kingdom as well as in Jaehyun. He’s warming up to you substantially, and it’s been three weeks since you’ve gone to see villages without your King as your companion.

He’s a silent type of ruler, but his presence does much to soothe his people, and despite the gloomy atmosphere of the kingdom due to nearly constant overcast weather and clouds, the energy of the citizens is getting brighter by the day.

Yet, while there has been movement in the betterment of the kingdom, your marriage has remained stagnant, and you’ve decided to change that.

You know where Jaehyun’s room is, and Johnny follows you there one evening. Donghyuck stiffens at the door when you approach, but he knocks and announces your presence all the same.

Both guards stay outside while you join your husband in his room.

Jaehyun is seated by the window, writing something in a journal. He has many such journals that line his bookshelves, no doubt writings from over three hundred years of being a King.

“Can I help you?” Jaehyun asks. 

“I would like to talk to you about the prophecy.”

The Cursed King makes a motion for you to sit on the chair near his, and he puts down his quill to address you properly.

“I have given it some thought, and I wonder if perhaps the prophecy doesn’t mean I’ll cure your Blood Curse, but that I will bring rejuvenation to you and the Kingdom,” you tell him, doing your best to sound confident.

“So that’s what all your work has been about,” Jaehyun smiles. 

“May I be honest with you?” you ask.

“Always.” He plays with the ring on his pinkie, clearly curious about what you have to say.

“I think, being so wrapped up in your curse has caused you to neglect your people. The citizens are all happy to have you near them, to have you walking in the villages again. Being cursed doesn’t mean you can’t be there for your subjects.”

“It’s true, you’ve made me realise I hold myself in a more negative light than they do,” Jaehyun confesses. “I’m thankful for your efforts, but I feel there’s more you want to say to me.”

“Well, I’m your wife,” you state. “And I would like to be your wife… in all ways.”

Jaehyun grins, gazing down at his fingers, where he continues to toy with jewellery. “Consumation has little effect when you are bedding a King who can’t give you children.”

“It has little effect on the formal expectations of royalty and religion, but a great effect on your wife,” you insist.

“You’re truly not afraid of me, are you, little Queen?” Jaehyun meets your gaze, sizing you up. “From the moment we met, I couldn’t sense any hesitation from you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell him.

“Funny thing that you’re the one promising that while I’m the danger.”

“I signed up to marry you with the promise it would not be a loveless marriage,” you say. “I have done what I can, but now it is your turn.”

“I wonder if this counts as extortion,” Jaehyun chuckles.

“It counts as a failure to comply with a verbal agreement if you refuse me.” You can’t help your own smile, but it fades, and you cock your head to the side. “Don’t you want me?”

The Cursed King lets out a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Then why do you hold yourself back? I can see you resisting yourself.” 

You’ve seen him resisting himself many times. You’ve had late-night discussions where the two of you have been so close to kissing each other before saying goodnight, so many carriage rides where you know he’s wanted to hold your hand but has instead avoided you.

You wouldn’t have come here and put your pride on the line tonight if you hadn’t sensed that Jaehyun longs for you the way you long for him.

“I also promised never to hurt you,” Jaehyun explains. “And I still fear that… if we are intimate, you could get hurt.”

“Are you thirsty?” you ask.

“I just ate.”

“So you’re worried about your own strength?” you question.

“Yes.”

You know Jaehyun well enough now to have become privy to the other details of his curse. Of his insane speed and power, and while Jaehyun is often very controlled, you’ve seen him tear a thick book in half when he didn’t like its ending. 

You stand up, approaching the Cursed King. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes.” He watches you carefully.

“Then test yourself in this, for my sake,” you urge, gently grabbing his hand to pull him to his feet. You guide his palm to your cheek, nuzzling against his cool skin. Your eyes remain locked with his as you test the waters, and soon, Jaehyun joins in. 

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, and your heart skips a beat, anticipating the kiss that soon comes.

He’s so gentle, so delicate as he presses his mouth to yours, and you guide his hand down to your hip so you can wrap your arms around the back of his neck, tugging him closer.

It's your second kiss, but you know what you’re doing, your body reacting instinctively as your tongue swipes his lip.

Jaehyun groans, grabbing at the thick skirts of your dress as they billow out from under the corset by your hips. You thread your fingers in his hair, releasing your own whimper.

The sound sets him off, because Jaehyun pulls away abruptly, and you stand there for a moment, both trying to catch your breath.

“One moment,” Jaehyun says, moving from your grasp to go to the door.

Your heart sinks, wondering what he’s up to, but when he peeks his head out to the hallway beyond and dismisses the two werewolf guards with super hearing, you realise he just wants some true privacy with you.

You can hear Donghyuck’s cackle as the two men leave, and Jaehyun closes the door. “I didn’t want them listening to this,” he tells you.

“Me neither,” you confess.

He returns to you quickly, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to yours. It’s a more fiery kiss, and even though you can tell that Jaehyun is holding himself back, it feels amazing. 

Your body is reacting in ways it has never reacted, and it leaves you breathless after each heated lip lock. The corset is starting to feel extremely tight, and Jaehyun pulls away, looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“It’s this God-awful dress,” you groan. “These layers. I can’t breathe.”

“How much do you like this dress?” he asks, tugging on the beautiful black fabric with white detailing embroidery.

“It’s not my favourite,” you admit.

“Good.” Jaehyun spins you around and attacks the corset lacing. You feel the tugs of him breaking the string, and once the whale bone trap is loose, he bunches the skirt fabric in his hands and lifts it off your form.

You’re in an undergarment dress, but even so, it’s the most exposed you’ve ever been in front of a man, and your skin tingles as your heart races in your rib cage.

Jaehyun stops to admire you for a moment. “You’ve always been a good Princess, right?”

“I’ve done my best,” you say breathlessly.

“So that means…” Jaehyun steps closer, reaching down to slowly tug your dress up, “No one has ever touched you like this?”

“Never,” you confirm, heart racing even faster. 

His fingers brush your thigh. “And you’re sure you want this?”

“More than anything.”

Jaehyun slips his hand between your legs, and for the first time, he makes contact with your core. You stifle a whimper, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady yourself as he explores your sensitive pussy, two fingers swiping between your folds to test how wet you are.

“You’re soaked,” Jaehyun groans, leaning down to press his lips to your throat.

“I’ve been waiting for this for months,” you gasp as he brushes the sensitive bud that has your skin tingling.

“What kind of husband have I been to deny you?” Jaehyun whispers.

“When was the last time…” you trail off, moaning as he rubs your clit harder.

“The last time…” he brings you back to your question.

“How long has it been since you last bedded a woman?” you ask, knowing that this Cursed King is not a virgin as you are.

“Over a hundred years,” Jaehyun confesses. “I’m not proud of it, but being alive this long gets lonely. And the women offering themselves always wanted to experience the curse; they wanted me to drink from them.”

“Oh,” you whimper as he pushes a finger into your tight core.

“You’re not interested in that, are you, my sweet, innocent, Princess?” Jaehyun asks, breath hot against your throat, his tongue dipping out to tease your skin, making you tingle all over.

“No,” you gasp when his fingers brush a sensitive spot inside of you, making your legs shake. 

“I didn’t think so.” Jaehyun pulls his hand away from between your legs. “Can you lie on the bed for me?” 

You nod, doing as you’re told even though your legs feel like jelly. 

As you get situated, Jaehyun begins to remove his own elaborate outfit, undoing each golden button of his waistcoat.

You watch, skin tingling with anticipation as your Husband finally bares his torso to you.

He’s lean but well muscled, skin as unblemished as his face. His curse has granted him beauty without imperfection, and there is something uncanny about how God-like Jaehyun is, but you push the thought to the side as he approaches the bed.

“I want to do this right,” he tells you, sinking to his knees at the foot of the bed. “How much do you know about sex?”

“I overheard maids talking about it sometimes,” you admit, grasping as he grabs your ankles and tugs you toward the edge of the mattress. 

“There is so much more to the joining of bodies than the Christian procreation-above-all propaganda that many kingdoms adhere to,” Jaehyun tells you. “When two people care about each other, they take the time to actually give their partner pleasure.”

Jaehyun’s lips find your calf, and he slowly kisses you up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your aching core.

“If anything becomes too much, just push me away,” Jaehyun says, and then, he licks a stripe of your pussy, twisting his tongue around your sensitive bud.

You let out a whimper, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets, thighs already shaking from the stimulus.

“Something tells me this will be easy,” the Cursed King chuckles, his breath hot on your core and making you twitch.

“What will be easy?” you ask.

“Making you cum.” Jaehyun pushes a finger back inside of you, his tongue finding your clit again while you writhe against the bed. 

The feeling of having something inside of you is foreign but wonderful nonetheless. You close your eyes and enjoy it, holding nothing back as your moans fill Jaehyun’s room.

It’s hard to decide where to focus, with two different sensations alighting your body with pleasure, you realize you really really like how he’s handling your clit, but when Jaehyun pushes a second finger into your core, your toes curl.

“Jaehyun,” you whimper.

The Cursed King groans. “I like it when you say my name.”

He crooks his fingers up, finding that sensitive spot deep inside of you again.

A cry escapes your lips, and you grip the bed sheets even tighter, feeling another foreign sensation begin to build in the pit of your stomach.

Jaehyun’s lips wrap around your clit and he sucks harder than before, making your back arch off the bed, your muscles twisting with tension.

You’re finding it hard to breathe as he works you open with his fingers, and each firm press of pressure against the spot inside of you has you seeing stars.

You whimper his name again, and when Jaehyun growls in response, the vibrations trigger the tension inside of you, and suddenly the invisible cord in your stomach snaps.

Waves of pleasure slam into you and you cry out desperately, whole body tensing and relaxing in quick intervals as Jaehyun works you through the first orgasm of your life.

The throbbing is deliciously intense and all consuming, making your mind blank. For the first time, you feel entirely grounded in your body. There are no other thoughts, only an ecstasy unlike any you have ever experienced. 

Soon, the pleasure becomes too much, and you reach down to push at Jaehyun’s head. He pulls away immediately, looking up at you while you do your best to catch your breath.

You’ve never felt exhaustion like this, and your whole body feels like rubber as Jaehyun stands up, licking his fingers clean.

“I think maybe I should give you a break, Princess,” Jaehyun grins.

“No.” You shake your head. “I want you to feel what I just felt.”

“You want me to cum too?”

“Yes.” You nod, swallowing thickly, “otherwise it’s an unfair exchange.”

Jaehyun laughs at your weak attempt at a joke, but his hands find his belt all the same.

“Your wish is my command,” Jaehyun tells you.

You watch under hooded lids as the Cursed King removes the rest of his clothing, and you begin to drool at the sight of his cock. You’ve never seen one before, but his is quite pleasing on the eyes. 

He joins you on the bed, adjusting you so you’re resting against the pillows. Then, he helps you remove your undergarment dress, leaving you both fully naked to each other for the first time.

Jaehyun kneels between your legs, which are bent at the knee, feet flat. 

You feel so exposed, but looking up at the gorgeous Cursed King, there are no fears running through your mind.

He reaches down, cupping your breast. Jaehyun’s thumb brushes by your nipple and you moan loudly, skin tingling from the sensation.

“You’re very beautiful,” he tells you as he gets down on top of you, your thighs wrapping around his hips instinctively to lock him close to you.

His lips find yours and you tangle your fingers in his hair, groaning into the kiss with pleasure. 

Jaehyun rocks his hips, his hard cock rubbing between your folds and gently stimulating your still sensitive clit.

One of his hands snakes between your bodies, finding your breast again, where he begins to play with your nipple.

You get the sense that he’s teasing you, and his motions are working. You can feel yourself getting embarassingly wet again, your core beginning to pulse with need.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Are you sure?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Yes.”

“It might hurt.”

“I don’t care,” you insist.

Jaehyun sighs, reaching between your bodies for the base of his cock. He lines his tip up with your core and slowly pushes in, pausing when only an inch of him is inside of you. The stretch is unlike anything, and so much more than his fingers had provided.

You squirm a little, trying to relax below him while your body adjusts to the intrusion, and when Jaehyun can tell that you’ve calmed down, he pushes a little deeper.

It continues this way, small adjustments until your body has welcomed his entire cock inside, his hips now flush to your own.

You’re both gasping as you kiss, and the way he’s reacting to you only makes the situation more pleasurable. You enjoy knowing that your body is providing him the same ecstasy that he’s providing you.

“I’m ready,” you insist, knowing that more is yet to come.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jaehyun promises, and with that, he begins to move, softly rutting into you.

Your soaked core makes the movement easy, your walls swallowing him back in with every thrust. Jaehyun releases a deep groan, pressing his face to your throat again, his breath tingling your skin and making you shiver.

Your core tightens around his cock, and Jaehyun moans even louder, his muscles quivering as he holds himself back from ravaging you, wanting to go at a pace that works for a complete novice when it comes to the world of sex.

Each thrust has you seeing stars now, your inner walls quickly becoming accustomed to what had been so foreign only a short time ago.

No, this feels natural, as natural as breathing, and you breathe Jaehyun in like a woman starved for air.

You trail your fingers across his broad shoulders, teasing the muscles there as he fucks you, his pace increasing as his own inhibitions begin to dissolve.

He’s realizing he won’t break you, realizing you’re stronger than he’d ever thought you would be.

“Please,” you whimper, not sure what you’re even begging for.

“Can you touch yourself for me?” Jaehyun asks, sucking your earlobe into his mouth.

“I can try,” you say shakily, forcing your hand between your bodies to touch the sensitive bud he’d given so much attention to.

Your core clamps down around him and you moan loudly from the feeling.

“Just like that, keep rubbing it,” Jaehyun instructs, fucking you deeper and slightly adjusting his angle so you can continue to touch yourself without him continuously knocking your hand.

You close your eyes, back arching slightly from the pleasure that quickly begins to consume you again.

Each stroke of his cock inside of you feels wetter now, and the slippery sensation has its own erotic ecstacy that makes your mind numb and your body tingle.

“You feel so good, Princess,” Jaehyun moans, his sounds going straight to your core, which is pulsing with desire again. “I want you to cum for me again.”

“Again?” you whisper, still overwhelmed from your first orgasm.

“Yes, again,” Jaehyun confirms. “You’ve been so good for me, you deserve it.”

“Okay.” You rub your clit harder, as he had done when he wanted you to get to the edge faster, and you cry out immediately at how good it feels, your heart thundering in your rib cage as your body begins to tense again.

“Just like that,” Jaehyun praises you. “Such a good Princess.”

His words have you practically melting, physical and emotional pleasure taking over as you work yourself closer and closer-

“I’m almost there,” you tell him, able to anticipate your high now, knowing what comes next.

“Be a good Princess and cum for me,” Jaehyun instructs. “Cum for your King.”

Something about his words sets you off, and one more rub of your clit sends you over the edge. You let out a desperate cry, tearing your hand away from yourself to latch onto his shoulders for an anchor.

This orgasm is even more intense than the first, and now that you’re cumming, Jaehyun lets even more of his wild side come to the surface. He fucks you quickly, each thrust more powerful than the last, rocking your entire body with an electric pleasure that has your legs going numb.

Jaehyun doesn’t announce his own orgasm, but you know the moment he’s reached it. His entire body shivers, a gasp escaping his lips, his thrusts faltering before he buries himself completely inside your hot, wet core.

You can feel his cock pulsating with pleasure, and the repeated moans in your ear are the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

You hold him tightly, your heart thundering in your rib cage as you remain entwined in the most intimate embrace you’ve ever experienced.

The two of you remained locked within each other for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow of two extreme orgasms, but finally, Jaehyun pulls away, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry I resisted you,” he says softly.

“I’m sorry you felt you had to.”

Jaehyun presses a kiss to your lips. “I’ll get something to clean you up, and then, you can sleep here.”

“I thought you don’t sleep?” you say in confusion.

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold you while you do.”

He pulls out of you and you both groan at the loss. Jaehyun quickly returns with a cloth, and he wipes the cum from between your thighs. 

“Tonight, our marriage officially starts,” he announces, a twinkle in his eye. “No more separate rooms.”

“And… the curse?” you ask, still holding hope that maybe, somehow, this first act of sexual intimacy had broken it.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I think I’m starting to accept that maybe I’ll always be cursed, but having you… it rights the wrong. Having you makes it bearable.”

Your heart softens as your Husband joins you in bed, letting you cuddle up to his chest as exhaustion takes over.

Being human and ageing while married to an eternally Cursed King might be a problem, but as drowsiness starts to take you, you know that’s a discussion for another time.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! low key, I want to give werewolf knight Johnny a love interest now too

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. God, your first kiss with this man had felt electric, but now that you’ve been Blood Cursed, now that everything feels even more intense, this kiss is something else entirely.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, heightened vampire sex, y/n is a little more dominant with her new power/strength, blow job, hand job, mutual orgasms, praise, body worship, breast worship, slightly more submissive Jaehyun, I petnames. (hers) Princess.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

You are now the age Jaehyun was when he was afflicted with the Blood Curse, and every day of your multiple year marriage has felt like it was leading up to this moment, to the moment your body has grown older than your husband’s.

Two years into your marriage, the kingdom’s sorcerer had searched for another seer, and this one had proposed a new prophecy. “Two cursed, to rule the land, two cursed, to right the bad.”

Literacy and the ability to make a prophecy with finesse haven’t necessarily been in the Seer wheelhouse for some time, but the message is clear, and tonight, on your birthday, you and Jaehyun have decided to finally make the forseen future into a reality.

Johnny isn’t the happiest about it, but he’s watched your love for Jaehyun blossom over the years. No one can deny that the two of you are soulmates, that you were put on this world to lighten up the Cursed King and his kingdom.

The well-being of the people hasn’t been better in over three hundred years, and you’ve really solidified the saying that behind every great man is an even greater woman.

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I. BEIJING 

You’re not sure how you managed to pack a bag and board a plane. You’re even less sure of how you managed to escape and leave the continent, and how you made it all the way to Beijing safe and sound. Beijing, that’s supposed to be your safe space right now, following Ning’s instructions in case something terrible happened and the two of you ended up being split from one another. 

And indeed, you did end up split up, but not by unexpected circumstances while on a mission, knowing you’ll meet each other again after following the plan B she so carefully planned out. You ended up being split by sudden death — hers, to be precise.

Remembering how it went down that day makes your chest heavy and your breath hitches in your throat, tears pricking your eyes. Ning was everything to you, the closest thing to a sister you could get. You trained together, you decided you should be partnered up rather than being on your own, and that meant her giving up being a scorpion just for you. As if she were sensing that something would be going wrong at some point, she made up this plan for a safe escape, yet you’re not sure how safe it is now and if your past decisions will be coming back to bite you. But you try to shake the thoughts away, at least for now, because you need to get to safety as soon as possible.

The streets are busy, and your legs and back are starting to hurt after the long hours spent travelling, not to mention the fact that you’re basically going on autopilot mode since you haven’t been able to close an eye and rest during the whole flight. In all honesty, you haven’t been able to sleep well in the last few weeks that led up to you quitting your job, and then trying to fly away undetected by your criminal boss and coworkers. Because you were sure he put a bounty on your head, or that he would in the future, anyway. No one has ever heard about anyone quitting the circle and living life like nothing happened, going on with life while planting pansies in the backyard and picking up Italian cuisine cooking lessons. It’s just not possible.

And, how were you supposed to sleep during your flight, knowing someone could be following you and could eventually kill you? You had to stay alert as much as possible, even if you thought no one sane would actually kill you on a plane, but you had to watch your back for any familiar faces around the plane or airport. 

You’re holding Ning’s handwritten instructions, now crumpled in your hands as you hold the piece of paper. You feel like your legs work on their own, and the sleepless days and nights are catching up to you, making you feel exhausted. 

Managing your sleep time and managing the lack of sleep were part of your training, and it was an important part of your job. Your hands needed to be steady on the firearm you used, your balance needed to be impeccable whenever you were on stag, and nobody could see you faltering while hiding or preparing for an attack. But right now, the lack of sleep is making your mind black out for a bit, as everything around you happens like scenes of a film, and as soon as the director yelled cut! you were back to reality. 

That’s how you gather your bearings as your feet halt suddenly, reaching a secluded part of the neighbourhood Ning wrote down on the paper. The tall buildings are obscuring the street ahead of you, and even if it’s close to noon, it feels like this street has never seen a ray of sunshine. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or the lack of appetite that has you feeling weak right now, but a sense of paranoia is working itself up your spine, up to the back of your neck, where the hairs stand up in terror of being followed. You halt your steps, turning around to look for familiar faces, and you hope your brain cells are still working, because this is the time to recognise any suspicious faces that you might or might not know. 

Except you don’t see anyone, so you turn around and start your journey once again. Your muscles hurt, your body is crying to get some food and rest, and there’s still the pending feeling that something is wrong — that even if you didn’t see anyone behind you, something bad is bound to happen.

Following Ning’s plan should be easy, it should be easy to trust her and her judgement, you know she would never betray you, but you can’t seem to get rid of that feeling in your gut. What if someone from the circle found out about Ning’s plan, and they’ll be waiting for you at the destination? What if whoever’s waiting for you there has conspired behind your backs and is hand in hand with your boss so they can get the bounty? You try to shake these thoughts away. Ning would never betray you — you’re sure of this.

Ning’s instructions are clear. You need to take a few turns around maze-like shady alleys that have never seen a ray of sunshine in all their existence. It makes you anxious, nauseous with the unshakable feeling that this is nothing but a trap, that someone is coming to get you as soon as you reach the end of this labyrinth.

You’re sure that you would never be able to fight back if peril approached you, taking you by surprise. Your senses — that were so sharp just a few weeks ago — are now disoriented and all over the place. The years of training and working as an assassin are suddenly dust in your eyes because you’re too tired and famished to be in your right mind. 

Nothing makes sense right now, except for Ning’s instructions. You do as she says, you take the right turns, your heart falls to your stomach when a rat creeps out from behind some trash bags by a door, but you go on — tired, itchy eyes scanning the crumpled piece of paper.

You reach the door, green paint flaking off the heavy metal, showing the old blue paint underneath, and you wonder just how many painting jobs this door has gone through. You know who’s waiting for you on the other side of the door, yet you’re not sure if you’re too late. Perhaps your former boss already bribed them into giving your head on a silver platter — and right now, there’s nothing you can do. This is a risk you must take, and hopefully it will be for your own good.

You knock on the door, and once again you feel anxiety eating through your chest and stomach. You’d be at least a little bit more comfortable if you had any kind of weapon with you right now, but you couldn’t risk losing precious time around a city you’re not familiar with in order to find some alley gangs willing to sell you illegal weapons. 

And the lack of weapons might not have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that you are basically exhausted. Your physical training has always been harsh, preparing you for all sorts of encounters and unforeseen circumstances, but you know that right now your precarious state will not be of help.

You hear someone approaching the door, and they open the door slowly, its heaviness making the hinges squeak in a loud echo that reverberates on the long, dark alley’s filthy concrete walls.

A man looks at you, and he seems to recognise you immediately — as you notice by the look in his eyes. He’s worried, his eyebrows furrow, probably because he never expected you to be the one showing up at their doorstep. It takes him ten seconds before gesturing for you to walk inside, pushing the heavy door and locking it on the inside as you wait for him in the entry hallway. 

There’s a musty smell, maybe from all the humidity around you, or maybe it’s just the fact that this narrow entryway isn’t ventilated at all, but one thing is sure — you’d never wander around this place alone if it weren't for the very specific reason why you’re here now. You just hope you won’t be welcomed with a bullet right in the middle of your forehead as soon as you step into the next room.

The man turns around, barely throwing you a look, and makes a gesture with his head for you to follow him.

Your steps are small and slow. Anxiety is making your inside melt as you keep thinking of all the scenarios that could end up in the wrong way, with almost all of them ending with you in a blood puddle — except for only one, which ends with you greeted by Ning’s grandmother and how she’d be willing to help you, without your boss already having you and her traced down.

You follow the man, and you enter one of the rooms at the end of the corridor, exhaling with relief as soon as your eyes meet Grandma’s gaze.

She’s surprised, and the look in her eyes lets you know that she wasn’t expecting to see you being the one showing up for her help. With the well-curated escape plan Ning and her grandmother had conceived in case of an emergency, Grandma never expected her granddaughter’s partner in crime to be the one showing up at her doorstep. And you understand this, you understand that the tragedy that struck you both is not something that can be taken lightly. You, for one, are still grieving — so you can just imagine just how bad her grandma is feeling. You understand, because after all, if you were to put yourself in her shoes, you wouldn’t be elated to see how someone else survived your granddaughter.

“Y/n,” she speaks up, calling your name, and her gaze softens seeing just how pale, frightened, and mortified you are.

You let out a sob, and you fall to your knees in front of her approaching figure, with the palms of your hands falling flat on the linoleum floors. Your forehead touches the surface as you place it in the space left between your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you sob, not having the courage to look up, because crouching in front of a woman whose only grandchild has died is the only acceptable thing to do right now, at least that’s what you think. “I’m so sorry, Grandma,” you sob once again, and you hear a pair of feet stopping just by your head.

“Y/n, look at me,” she instructs, crouching down to pull you off the floor. In other circumstances, you would have bowed to her feet to greet her, your elder, but now you’re crouching out of mortification and shame. 

Ning should have been here right now, not you.

You look at her, and her facial expression is not giving away what’s going on inside of her. “Y/n,” she calls your name, grabbing you by each side of your face and squeezing your cheeks slightly, with her thumbs wiping your tears from under your eyes, “Is Yizhuo…” she trails off, not having it in herself to finish the sentence, yet she knows.

You nod, and your bottom lip starts quivering as your eyes finally look into hers. They’re hurt, they lose their sparkle as soon as you confirm her darkest fears have just turned into reality. 

“Everything will be fine,” she shushes you as soon as you start crying again, and you feel like the scum of the earth for being a crybaby in front of an old woman who just lost the most precious person she had in this whole world. “You’re safe now,” she hugs you, and her hands wrap around you a little tighter.

“Tell me all about Yizhuo,” she instructs as she manages to drag you towards a small table in the corner, “Tell me what happened!”

II. THE MOUNTAINS

The day the old man recruited you, he promised you he’d protect you if you accepted being taken under his wing. He promised you he’d take care of you and that you would never lack anything in life. All you had to do was train and become a part of his team.

At that time, the idea sounded amazing. You were young, fresh out of school. A young adult fighting to make her stance clear in the harsh lines of an already well-established society. Young meant impressionable, and the fact that you didn’t really have a family to be tied to made it seem like it was the best choice for you at that time. 

After just a bit over a decade in the industry, you realised you were manipulated into joining these circles, because the old man must have known your background and the fact that you were all by yourself, with nothing to lose — nothing except your life, of course. But again, you were young, you wanted to affirm yourself, and the man spoke to you so beautifully of the life awaiting you, that you couldn’t really think about anything else. 

So you accepted his offer, and next thing you knew, you were in a sturdy jeep, being driven through rocky mountain trails towards the camp where you were supposed to start your training. 

The camp was huge, with a seemingly abandoned hotel situated in the middle of trees. It made your skin crawl, and it wasn’t just the cold mountain air too harsh for you — who had never left the hot city — it was more than that.

There was an eerie vibe to the whole place, and you felt your stomach dropping when the thought of your life being in serious danger crept up on you. And then the two muscle-packed bodyguards who drove you up this mountain instructed you to follow them inside the building. 

If on the outside the hotel looked abandoned and unkept, the interior made your jaw drop to the floor. Style, luxury, everything was clean and surprisingly so welcoming — you didn’t expect the interior to be so different from the external façade, and yet you still felt out of place. You liked the idea of this whole life ahead of you, you liked the promises made to you, and you even liked the obligations that came with agreeing to all this — with putting your life on the line with each mission you were going to take on. But the luxury and the dystopian difference between what welcomed you outside, and the warmth of the inside, made you stop in your tracks a few times as you were escorted to your room.

The old man explained the rules to you, right before you climbed into the jeep that was to take you away to the mountains.

You were going to be training in the mountains for as long as needed. Physical and psychological training sessions were to be taken daily, with a very precise schedule you had to follow to a T. 

“You’ll be trained by our experts,” the old man explained to you, “There’s a tough training period you have to follow in order to join the circle, and it’s best if you master the art of all disciplines before the others make an appearance.”

“The others?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing while looking at your new boss. 

“The training camp isn’t reserved just for newbies like yourself,” he smiled at you, “The other members of the clan can join the camp anytime they want, in order to train,” he went on explaining, and you were sure the sickening glint in his eyes was due to a twisted pleasure he had with having everything so planned and disciplined. You knew he was obsessed with always having everything under control, and you couldn’t really blame him — not after knowing that he invented this system and the amount of money he was juggling between clients, his assassin agents, and his own pockets.

“You’ll have a code name, but that will only be after our experts assess you and see what you’re best at. You can say your real name to the others in the circle, but you’ll learn that your code name will be used most of the time, especially by me when I’ll assign your missions,” he nodded to himself, lost in thought like he was pondering saying what was on his mind or just skipping it. 

“Listen, Y/n,” he started, clicking his tongue, “You’ll learn that the ones inside this circle might not always be your friends, but they’re your coworkers and you are a team. You’ll always have to trust each other, no matter the grounds.” 

“How long do I have to train before getting a code name?” Your voice was small, but you didn’t stutter. Your head was throbbing with all the information you had received, and you felt an incoming headache making your temples tighten.

“Depends on you, kiddo,” he laughed, bringing a glass to his lips, “Training periods last for as long as needed, depending on your skills.”

Your training sessions were ruthless. Waking up early, you had to go through your first physical training sessions of the day on an empty stomach. After breakfast, meditation followed, with more physical training following suit — not to mention the almost nonexistent breaks, with the first week tuckering you out, almost on the brink of passing out.

You weren’t used to this type of training. The intensity of your days made you nauseous, with little appetite, and sometimes just bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips made your muscles hurt. You would have gladly given up your food if you were allowed to do so, but with the strict eyes of the masters? There was actually no chance you could do that. Not when their eyes followed your every movement like vultures, waiting for you to make a mistake so they could discipline you or just make you climb that damned mountain up to the top, as a punishment for not being obedient. 

You had always been a good fighter — you kicked and punched like you were born to do so, yet one of the masters thought it wasn’t your strongest point. Then they made you train with knives, swords, katanas, and while you perfected the art of throwing a knife right in the dummy’s heart and forehead — right in between the eyes — they thought you still didn’t find your perfect skill. 

With your force and lightweight movements, and with the perfect aim, they said you still couldn’t fit into one precise category.

“You’ll have to practice on these before completing the training,” the Head Master explained as you were trying to keep your balance on a log, jumping up and down and trying not to fall into the puddle of mud. “If you fall, you aren’t allowed to shower!” He screamed your way.

Saying that you were exhausted was an understatement. Your calves were burning, and your thighs were trembling every single time he made you keep your balance while standing on your tiptoes on that log. 

You knew you had to be perfect in all fields, and even if knives or physical force weren’t your strongest points, you still had to master them. But you also knew that once they found your real talent, that was going to be your category — and then they made the inspired choice to make you work with firearms. Although you did the basic training up until that day, they hadn’t made you focus on that discipline until they realised there’s more to you than kicking stuff and throwing knives.

And that way, you actually found your category. With your perfect aim and quick instincts of a cat, they made you shoot all sorts of firearms, trying to make the perfect sniper out of you.

It was one month into your training period when you came back to the hotel a bit earlier than anticipated. You had spent the entire morning training with a long-range rifle on one of the cliffs, shooting birds and everything moving in your sight — including the propelled props your coaches shot up in the sky with the help of a cannon, for you to take down, — but thankfully you got dismissed earlier.

Walking past the entrance of the lobby, your steps came to a halt when you noticed a small silhouette wandering around, walking towards one of the conference rooms.

“Hey,” you spoke up before you could stop yourself, “Can I help you?” You call after the silhouette, and the person flinched after hearing your voice, but turned around nonetheless.

“Hi,” she waved your way, small steps approaching you as you stayed unmoving in your spot, drinking from your bottle of water. “I’m here to train,” she told you, but it came out more as a question. “Was told not to share my name just yet, and I don’t have a codename, so I don’t know how to introduce myself,” she mumbled, placing her hands behind her back. 

You took a good look at her. She was beautiful. Very long, straight and black hair fell perfectly around her shoulders and figure, and her eyes sparkled, although shy. You were wearing your training gear, and she was sporting some of the most beautiful clothes you had ever seen at that time. 

The more you looked at her, the more she seemed even more beautiful. Her shyness was adorable, maybe because she was taken by surprise by you full-on interrogating her, but you were genuinely curious who she was since no one had mentioned her up until that point. 

“I don’t have a code name either, at least for now, but it’s just the two of us here right now,” you explained, trying to sound friendly. After being alone on this mountain, it suddenly became hard to talk to other people. “Sorry for earlier, didn’t mean to sound rude,” you apologised, playing with your bottle of water, “After being secluded on this mountain with the monks for one month, I was surprised to see someone new.”

She let out a bark of laughter, showing you a row of pearly white teeth, “The monks?” 

You laughed right back, but you waved your hands around, asking for her to let you explain, “The masters. I call them monks because it feels like they are, to be honest. And I’m not allowed to talk to them unless given permission or otherwise they’ll make me climb this mountain,” you explained like that was the most normal thing to have ever happened to you, and the girl in front of you seemed shocked after hearing your words.

“They give us punishments?” She asked in horror, eyebrows arching worriedly. 

You gave her a nod, but tried giving her a reassuring smile, “They do, in all sorts of ways, so look out for that!” 

And you tried to reassure your new companion the best you could, walking her around the whole place to let her know your favourite spots, giving her important advice that you would have appreciated if someone welcomed you here when you arrived, the way she found you in the lobby. 

And she seemed appreciative of all your help and insights. After that day, seeing each other was hard because it was already your second month there, you already fit into one category, and the new girl was just at the beginning of her journey. While your training sessions gradually started being shorter, with you having more free time to yourself or for training on your own, practising whichever skills you wanted, the girl left at dusk and came back late into the night, just like you used to. 

At some point, you started having your meals down in the lobby, hoping you were going to have her in your sight at least once. Because after spending so much time alone with no one to talk to, knowing there was another person around made your soles tingle, wanting to go out in the woods and look for the spot she was training in. 

Hectic schedules meant that while you were slashing dummies in some part of the woods, you could hear gunshot sounds reverberate around you in the woods — yet with it being your second month of training there, you weren’t allowed to flinch, no matter how surprised you could have been.

“It’s all about your self-control, Y/n,” one of the coaches told you one day, sharp gaze cutting through your flesh as he looked at even the slightest of movements coming from you, keeping an eye even on your breathing. “When you’re focusing on your task, there should be nothing disturbing you from doing what you’re set to do. One small movement and you’re ruining it all. One slash of a katana triggered by a thunder outside can kill the wrong person, or even make you fail your mission, your purpose.” 

And for this exact reason, during your third month there, they made you train in the rain. Heavy rain might have felt like it was making holes through your flesh with how hard it was pouring down and how cold it was, but you learned to overlook it. At some point it became second nature; the cold and temporary stinging on your bare shoulders and arms became normal, like it was something that was absolutely normal to happen to you, something absolutely normal for you to feel.

After training and meditating in the rain, strong sounds didn’t make you recoil anymore. But you still weren’t sure where you were standing with your progress, because they never told you. Even if your training sessions were shorter than what they used to be, they never praised you, they never let on where you stood. 

And not knowing what kind of progress you had made also meant not knowing how long you still had to train before they decided you were ready, or what your next training sessions would have looked like.

And when you saw the other girl again after what felt like years, she was waiting for you with one of the coaches standing behind her.

“This is our first time having two people training at the same time,” the master walking behind you — master Shi Lai spoke up, walking right up to the other master standing behind the girl, “It’s time we saw just how good you two are.”

“What?” You spoke up, totally ignoring the fact that you knew you weren’t supposed to question their judgement. It was the rules. 

“You have to fight each other,” the other master — master Mu Yang spoke up, taking a few steps back in order to make more space for you. “No weapons, just you two fighting each other,”

But you didn’t want to fight the other girl. Yes, no weapons were to be involved, but it still meant one of you could get badly hurt, potentially both of you, and that meant a lot of problems.

One being the way masters weren’t going to cut you some slack if you were to be hurt. And not fighting against your opponent meant you were going to hike up some wild trail while carrying a sack of rice on your back, up to the top.

You let out a sigh, placing your hands on your hips right before you took small steps, trailing in a circle —  making the girl move as well. It was clear as day that neither of you wanted to fight against each other, but had to do it nonetheless.

You trailed off, simply waiting. You weren’t going to attack first, and you knew she was probably going to throw a first punch soon, going for your head. Your breathing was steady, and you only hoped that this girl wasn’t a real-life fighting machine, because it wasn’t unknown that you were street smart and that you knew how to fight, but the level of training for people who fell into the fighting category? Absolutely insane. And you could never compete with that.

So you waited, as your masters instructed you during your first days of training, your senses focusing on the girl in front of you. And just like you expected, she attacked first. 

One of her arms moved methodically and with straight precision towards your head, and maybe anticipating her move actually helped you, because you blocked her swing with your forearm, successfully grabbing her arm with both hands and flipping her to the ground with a loud thud. 

You looked at master Shi Lai, and right before you could open your mouth to talk, the girl was up onto her feet, once again being the one starting the attack. You parried her incoming kicks, but she was surprisingly way too quick with her jumps, too eager to take you down, and that only meant she was going to feel tired soon. 

Surprisingly, she managed to dodge all your kicks, but you felt her getting tired from all the dodging and uncoiling she did while jumping around, and you took it as a sign to stop tiptoeing around her — and your leg lurched towards her, your foot kicking her right in the middle of her chest, propelling her to the ground.

The fight was short, but it was enough for you who didn’t want to be in that position from the very beginning. The girl didn’t move from her spot, but instead brought a hand to her chest, and you imagined her having difficulty breathing after hearing her panting.

You looked at master Shi Lai, and he nodded your way, “Bring her inside,”

And you followed the instructions, helping the girl up and pulling her figure towards your own. You rotated a bit, offering her your back for a piggy ride, which she accepted without batting an eye — sore chest probably still causing her problems. 

You’ve been kicked in the chest before, by the Head Master during a physical training, when you were just too ambitious and wanted to show the master just how good you were at fighting after picking it up on the streets. And that time, no one was there to pick you up and carry you back inside on their backs.

If someone made you carry another person on your back just three months ago, you think you would have ended up with a broken back. But in that moment, you were carrying another person down a mountain trail — but then again, you got used to carrying rice sacks on your backs, so the girl weighed absolutely nothing compared to that.

You took her up to your room, not knowing in which wing her own room was situated, and you actually wanted to keep an eye on her.

You placed her on your bed, and she winced in pain, sucking air through your teeth. The fight was short, but you definitely caused her some damage by taking her down twice.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You sat next to her, touching her shoulder, careful not to make her feel any more pain. You placed a pack of ice inside one of your old t-shirts, tying it around the cold item and placing it on her sternum, right where you kicked her, “This should be of help,”

“Thank you,” she rasped, grabbing the ice pack on her chest and raising her head off the pillow. “They told me I was a shit fighter and they brought you in to fuck me up,” she giggled, and she closed her eyes, embarrassed, “I’m Yizhuo, by the way,” She opened her eyes to look at you, and your breath hitched in your throat hearing her opening up to you, “But you can call me Ning,”

You threw her a look. Still in pain from the brief fight you had outside, you were glad that she was comfortable opening up to you. 

“Y/n,” you gave her a small smile, and she grinned your way.

“We weren’t supposed to share our names until we get code names,” she spoke up, but her grin never subsided, “But you just beat the shit out of me, so I think we’re good,”

And after that day, you and Ning became inseparable during your free time at the training camp. With you training individually, you went on hikes or trained together during your free time. But you also spent nights talking and just getting to know each other.

“What made you come here?” She rolled on her belly to look at you. You were sleeping in her room that night, after spending the whole evening training underwater in one of the indoor pools downstairs. 

You looked at her ceiling, playing with your fingers that were resting on your belly, “I was alone out there,” you shrugged, moving your head to look at her. “I had no one and got into trouble more than I’d like to admit,” you laughed remembering all the times you ran away from city gangs, “That’s how the old man recruited me. I was fighting two men in the back of an alley and he waited for me to knock their lights off before he approached me,” you smiled, but your gaze was lost, looking somewhere behind Ning. 

“I got recruited after I harmed my aggressor,” Your breath hitched in your throat as you heard her words, and you once again moved your head to look at her. Still on her belly, biting on her thumb like she had just been caught red handed, she looked at you like she was expecting you to jump off the bed after hearing just how calm she had been saying those words. 

“Harmed?” You inquired, calmly. 

She smiled at you, “Don’t look at me like that’s the most concerning thing you’ve ever heard!” She defended, “You’re acting like we’re not here actively training to become assassins,” 

“Did he deserve it?” You asked, getting on your side to have a better look at her.

“Yes,” her reply was curt, without a shadow of a doubt, “He was my stalker,” She went on, gaze lost in space as she kept biting on her thumb. “He followed me to a nightclub and when I was leaving, he grabbed me in a back alley. I knew he was after me so I had a knife on me, and I actually sliced his cheek when he least expected it.” 

She waited for you to hum before continuing, “And when he tried getting away, I threw my knife after him. It pierced his back, puncturing his lung,” She looked at you, trying to sense if you were judging her for hurting someone.

“He definitely deserved it,” you mumbled, and Ning got on her side, imitating your position on her bed. 

“I like training with you,” she mumbled, head resting on her arm and looking at you, “Wish we could be a duo forever,”

And at that time, given how close the two of you had become, the idea didn’t seem to be that bad. 

That was, until the old man dropped by one morning, calling you into his designated office. You were actually happy to see a familiar face dropping by, already sick of seeing the masters all day, every day. 

He looked at you as you walked towards one of the loveseats in the office, seating facing towards where he was sitting. 

“You look good, heard you’re a warrior around here,” He stood to his feet, making his way towards one of the cabinets, fishing for two coasters and two glasses, “I know you haven’t had a drink in months,” he pours you some of the liquor, pouring himself some as well, “Drink up, you deserve it,” he prompted you, taking a sip of his own glass.

“Thank you, sir,” you thanked him, but you grew so accustomed to the lifestyle the training program forced upon you, that you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol, and the liquor burned your tongue as soon as you took a sip of it.

“I’m very pleased to tell you that you’re finally ready to join Death’s Kiss Assassination Squad. You’ll be a part of the Vipers squad,” he smiled at you, and he seemed proud of everything that left his mouth up to that moment. 

“Vipers?” You asked, placing your glass on the coaster resting on the small glass coffee table. 

“Yes! Vipers, also known as Snipers!” He clicked his tongue, moving his head excitedly, “You were born to play with firearms, kiddo,” he joked, clapping his hands together, “At first I thought you’d be a great Bouncer. But you’re so full of surprises, I’m so happy you’re a successful addition to our squad!”

“Thank you, sir,” you repeated, not knowing what else to say — or to put it better, you didn’t know how to bring up what you and Ning had been talking about. “Actually, sir…” You trailed off, hesitation making you bite your bottom lip.

“What is it, kiddo? You don’t like your category? It’s all about skills, and while you’re good at everything else as well, firearms are your art-” but he was interrupted by your waving hands.

“It’s not that, sir!” You tried making yourself understood, “I’m very happy with being a viper,” You reassure him, because while he might have seemed like a ray of sunshine while talking to you, you were also very aware of the fact that he was leading one of the best, most profitable organisations in the entire world. 

“What is it, then? Speak up, Y/n,” He placed his glass on the coaster, and you were not sure how to test his mood, because you hadn’t seen that man’s worst side up to that point. 

“Would working as part of a duo work?” And even if you wanted to add more to your question, the look on his face stopped you from doing so.

He sighed, leaning back into his seat, “You talked to Ning?” And he only waited for your nod before he spoke up again, “Duos are hard work, hard to manage, Y/n,” he drank up all the remaining liquor in his glass before standing up to his feet. 

And he called Ning into the office anyway. Seated at his desk, his gaze bounced from you to Ning so many times, but neither of you had the courage to speak up.

“You two realise you have completely different aptitudes. You’re a Viper,” he pointed his head at you, “And you’re most likely to become a Scorpion, given your knife skills,” he looked at Ning, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to remain as calm as possible, “You have to be the same category, one of you has to give up on her skills and start from the beginning,”

“I can do that,” Ning spoke up before you could, “My shooting skills aren’t that great right now, anyway, and that can change,” 

You actually wanted to be the one to change categories. Not because you didn’t like how being a viper sounded, but because it would have been easier for you to spend a little more time in order to perfect your knife skills, than having Ning spend a long time training to get on the same level as you.

“Ning,” the old man’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, “Are you aware that Y/n is ready to join the squad, so that means you’ll need to work hard and get to her level fast?” And when he saw Ning nodding, he turned to look at you, “You’ll work on your own until she’s ready,”

You and Ning exchanged looks, barely able to contain your grins.The old man let out a huff of breath, but regained his initial good mood  in mere seconds, “In this case, welcome to the squad, Copperhead and Cottonmouth!”

III. BEIJING TO OKINAWA

After recalling the accident of how you lost one of the most important people in your life, and after telling Ning’s grandma about everything that had happened that day, she decided she would take you under her wing for a bit. Because after all, Ning’s plan involved her and she was well aware of it, wanting to help you out.

You remained secluded inside her building for three weeks before she allowed you to step out and have your face kissed by the warm air and the sun. And it wasn’t like she was reluctant to let you out, but she explained all the next steps the plan entailed. 

You were never going to allow her to act recklessly just to help you. You were never going to allow her to expose herself to the dangers of covering up the trails of a very experienced paid assassin on the run. You trusted her judgement, but you were never going to accept her risking her life just to save yours, because life was unfair to you, to Grandma Ning, and especially to Yizhuo. 

Grandma Ning fed you, kept you updated about possible suspicious behaviour around the area, and she catered to your needs, although you kept your worries to yourself. There was no need for you to burden her with all your fears and worries, but you also knew that you couldn’t overstay your welcome. 

Yes, she was part of the plan — the first person to go to in case of emergency — and yes, she was there to keep you safe for a while, but you couldn’t put her in any danger. 

And remaining in Beijing seemed too good to be true, anyway. Like all fantasies, there had to be something happening for you to come back to reality. You were on the run, you needed to hide and run towards the edge of the earth, and you couldn’t afford to get caught. 

And like a macabre reminder that you weren’t safe and needed to either embrace your demise or just run off to a hopefully safer place for you to survive in, it glinted in the sun. A coin, a simple coin glinted as sunshine grazed it, and it caught your attention while you were finally out enjoying a little bit of freedom after so many weeks of just being secluded inside a building, scared, and uncertain.

Holding your hat down on your forehead as you crouch down to pick it up, you almost drop the coin when you inspect the country of origin. It’s a coin from back home, that would never be used in Beijing for absolutely any reason — new, shiny and polished — it was dropped, or actually placed by someone right at the alley’s exit. A perfect spot for methodically placing a hint, knowing that its perfect state would get the very well-trained eye of an assassin, especially if light hit it from any angle. 

This isn’t a sick coincidence. This doesn’t have anything to do with chances and fortune. This was meant for your eyes to catch, and they did. 

You keep the coin in the palm of your hand, squeezing it like you’re afraid it might disintegrate the more you keep thinking about it. 

So you make your way all the way to the end of the alley, checking behind you with every quick step you take — trying to see if you are being followed, trying to see if there’s any pair of eyes that even remotely resemble those of someone you know, someone from your squad back home. 

Your steps come to a halt when you reach the large, green door, and you watch behind you one last time before pushing it open, quickly getting inside the building and locking the door after yourself. At first you thought that leaving the house today was a mistake and, while you were not entirely wrong, you were never going to pick up on the hint that they finally managed to find you if it weren’t for your little impromptu stroll. And who knows, maybe staying in would have meant both you and Grandma were going to be ambushed with neither of you suspecting anything.

“Grandma!” You pant, calling for her as you run through the narrow corridors of the building, “Where are you?” A lump forms in your throat at the idea that while you were busy wasting precious time with that coin outside, grandma had already fallen victim to whoever’s after you. And not knowing who it is, it’s killing you on the inside.

“What’s wrong?” She asks the moment you enter her meditation room, the final spot inside the whole building you were hoping to find her in, alive. She directly asked you what was wrong, because she already knew something had happened.

“They found me,” If someone told you just half a year ago that you were going to have a full panic attack at the thought of being met by one of your coworkers, you would have let a bark of laughter escape you, that’s for sure. And it is actually insane to you how barely only a bit over one month had passed, and you already couldn’t recognise yourself.

You used to be someone ready to fight, ready to face whatever danger was awaiting you because, after all, you were prepared for any kind of peril.

“You and I both know there are no coincidences when there’s a bounty on your head,” Grandma retorts, reminding you that you can’t let yourself be fooled by the delusion that this could be all in your head. 

“Remember what we talked about? The Okinawa plan?” She asked you, and you hummed in response, too busy looking for the bag full of essentials that you were to carry around with you. “I believe in you, Y/n, you only need to reach Naha safely,”

You nod, and for some reason your eyes are welling up with tears.

IV. DEATHSTALKER

There’s a sense of heaviness in your chest as you lie unmoving on the old bed of your hotel room, your ears ring, and your mind runs lapses trying to hear anything suspicious coming from the hallway or the floors above. Anything that you can take as a sign to leave this city as soon as possible.

The anxiety you’ve developed since leaving the circle weakens your abilities and senses a bit, and you were one of the best on the field. Able to control your pulse and breathing, you never experienced having an annoying and constant ringing in your ears as you try to decipher silence. You never had to lie down on a bed in order to allow the ringing to subside and your pulse to calm down. And you’ve never experienced such strong paranoia, not even when they were training you in the mountains to get an elite assassin out of you.

And how could you not be paranoid, after they made you leave three countries already? You’ve seen them all, the signs. The hints thrown at you that they’ve found you, but the worst thing of all is not knowing who exactly is after you. 

Who is it that your former boss sent after you? It’s important, because it’s over for you if they sent a knife expert — or worse, a butcher. Ning trained you intensely during your free time in order to perfect your skills so you could be on her level, and you know what scorpions and butchers are capable of. Ning gave up being a scorpion, being the best at using knives out of the entire team, just for you. To be able to be a viper with you. 

You hear heavy footsteps thumping on the carpeted hallway outside, but you don’t pay too much mind to that. Someone from your field would never make that much noise. You could probably expect to have a gun to your temple even right now while lying in bed, whilst you try waiting for another sign, they could enter your room and you wouldn’t even know it. 

You’re once again in your own head, thinking about Ning and how it ended for her, the signs you’ve noticed in the past two months that you were being followed and that they found you, yet they let you live a little longer before they make you disappear off the surface of the earth. And then you hear it, the imperceptible click of your door’s lock, gradually and carefully being picked.

You jump off the bed, trying to be as light as possible, leaping towards the massive bookshelf fixed on the wall on the left side of your bed, where you carefully planted a loaded gun in case you heard any type of suspicious movement outside your door and windows. You crouch down on top of the bookshelf, holding your gun with steady hands as you wait for your assassin to enter your room. 

In the pitch black room, with only the moonlight seeping through the open curtains, you don’t hear any footsteps or rustling of clothes, but you spot a man’s silhouette stepping carefully around the bed. A car parks outside your window, and the headlights briefly land on the man’s features, making you freeze. 

Deathstalker? They sent a damn scorpion after you.

Even with the moonlight as your only source of light, it is enough for you to make out his movements, and it’s like your senses are once again as sharp as they used to be, because you can see everything perfectly. Like having night vision. 

He reaches for the spot on your bed, the spot you were lying on, and touches it, checking its warmth to understand how long you’ve stayed there.

You feel a numbing pain in your foot sole due to the stupid position you’re crouched down in, and you try moving half an inch to the right in order to be a tiny bit more comfortable until he decides to act — and you'll need to be ready — but your heart drops to your stomach when your ankle pops from the small movement. 

Fuck, shit, motherfucking-fuck-shit.

And you see him stopping his hand on the bedspread, keeping himself unmoving in the same position, and you hear him giggle.

“Oh, baby, baby,” he laughs lightly, straightening his back slowly to turn around and look at you, all perched on the bookshelf with your head nearly touching the ceiling “Seems like the lost months of physical training really got to your ankle, huh?” He lets his usual deep laugh fill the room, mocking you.

“Shut up, Jaehyun,” you retort through gritted teeth, “Don’t call me baby when I have a loaded gun pointed to your head,” you threaten him, but he only smiles back. 

“Why are you here?” You ask, trying to buy some more time. Especially because you don’t see him holding not even one of his knives, and you don't like unpredictability. But again, he could have some shuriken up his sleeve. 

“I think you know why I’m here, Y/n,” he answers with a sombre tone.

Of course you know why he’s here. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you mumble.

He chuckles, “You’re so thoughtful, baby,” he ignores your threat about using the nickname, and he doesn’t even try to move an inch to the side. He knows that an unexpected movement might cost him his life. “You say you’ve been waiting for me, but you ran away from me,” he tsks, shaking his head in mockery.

“Oh, my fucking bad! Should have baked you a cake and got you some flowers waiting for you to kill me,” You bark back at him, gun still aimed at his head. 

You guess your reflexes really are back even after the months of reckless living, with no healthy food, no proper training, no meditation. Especially no meditation, because how could you even think of focusing on that when your mind was so full of paranoia and anxiety. 

“Who said I’m here to kill you?” He laughs, and those damned dimples make an appearance. Your gaze falls on them, on his sculpted cheekbones, then back on his dimples, finally travelling down to the jaw. 

He’s relaxed, he looks like he’s on fucking vacation, taking his sweet time inflicting even more anxiety on you. He looks around the room, looking around the walls — or at least trying to look around, because there’s not much one can see with only the moonlight seeping through the curtains. 

But you see him just fine, and he sees you perfectly as well, and you guess it’s all because of your profession — trained to see and sense the target even in pitch dark places.

And thanks to this quality of yours, you see him moving fast, and you anticipate his actions, knowing that he’s doing all this in order to get the knife he has up one of his sleeves out, in order to launch it towards you.

But he seems to forget you trained to be almost as good as he is — because truth be told, not even Ning could ever come close to Jaehyun’s knife skills, — and maybe you also forgot you still had the self preservation instinct and adrenaline going hand in hand with all your training that you still hadn’t forgotten, even if you initially thought had become rusty. Turns out you’re doing just fine. 

You jump off the bookcase, hoping he won’t launch another weapon your way, and you shoot at him as soon as you land on the carpeted floors of your motel room, the suppressor making the shooting noise a bit more bearable to the ears. 

But you know it can still be heard, and people panic even if they hear a thud, a snapping or cracking sound coming from outside their window. So you stand back on your feet, lurching towards the door and escaping as fast as you can, not losing any time with checking if Jaehyun is harmed, or dead.

“Shit!” You hear him curse, and you run faster towards the small green space beside the motel and parking lot. He’s alive and breathing, yet you’re not sure if he’s harmed or not, but you’re sure the shock of actually being shot at by you will buy you some time before he comes out to look for you.

Your steps are light as you almost trot your way on top of the dead foliage covering the ground — the green space in which you buried an emergency bag a few days ago, preparing for a moment like this one right now. Groping in the dark for the few bushes you used as cover for one small shovel, you find it and start digging fast in order to get your belongings. 

The ground is moist but easy to dig in, and you snatch your emergency bag up from the ground, rummaging inside it for new clothes and anything you could use not to be easily recognised by Jaehyun. Changing clothes, wearing a relatively well made wig that wouldn’t give away the fact that it is made of synthetic hair, especially in the middle of the poorly lit parking lot.

Parking lot, which you have a clear and amazing view of. 

You spot Jaehyun marching out of your room, looking around himself for bystanders who might have heard the gun going off, and who might even be looking for you. You see him throwing a look towards the green space with trees — where you’re hiding, but his whole plan has been too faulty for him to risk it by staying and looking for you.

And he walks away with fast steps, jumping in his car and reversing it in the middle of the parking lot. You think you have an idea of what route he’s going to take, because there aren’t many possibilities at the moment. He’s either going south or north, and it all feels like you’re gambling — the right choice would allow you to chase, find, and kill him, and the other one would leave you still as the one being chased. 

So you pick a second car key you kept in your emergency bag, and move towards your car as discreetly as possible. 

You jump inside your car, starting it almost immediately so you don’t lose precious time that might make you lose Jaehyun’s tracks, and you speed after him after spotting his sturdy jeep racing on the highway.

You never expected Jaehyun to be the one sent out to come after you, for you to find your demise by his hand. Your history has always been complicated, from that one time when things ruined your chances to ever be in each other’s proximity without throwing daggers at each other, up to the last few months, especially today, when he actually decided to stop hunting you down and messing with your head — when he actually attempted to finally complete his mission.

But there’s so much more about Jaehyun that needs to be thought about, and you reckon this is not the time. Being in your own head thinking of the last decade as you’ve known him won’t be of any help, especially now that you’re in the right mind to actually behave and do what you learnt to perfection. To kill.

You see Jaehyun taking the next exit and you follow, although you hit the brakes so as to not catch up to him and be caught. Turns out Jaehyun was actually hiding himself about thirty miles away from the motel you chose to take refuge in, and you’re surprised he actually decided to stay so far away instead of just getting a room at the same motel. And yet you know the reason why he did it — so as to not mess up his chances and be seen following you, or worse, being seen by you. Because after all, you knew someone was after you, you just weren’t sure of who it was exactly. 

You park your car by the front gates of his hotel, fancier and in better condition than the motel that sheltered you, and his grandeur makes you scoff. Talk about doing your job and living in barracks if it’s required for the success of your mission, it isn’t a rule for Jaehyun and it has never truly been. 

He can do his tasks very nicely from a nice hotel, not to mention the most luxurious ones he usually resides in — he goes out in the morning wearing nice clothes, seemingly ready to take over recreational golf tournaments for the whole day, but leaves the resort for the entire day and only returns after he’s succeeded in his mission. No crease on his white polo t-shirt, not a drop of blood on his trainers, not a drop of sweat having gone dry on the collar of his polo or on his spine. He’s an unbothered, perfect executioner who does his work like his mother pushed him out and he already had knives in each hand. 

But you’re not afraid of him. Maybe because of your history together as the main reason, you were more threatened by the thought of being chased by Perentic — Kim Jungwoo, bouncer — and actually being beaten to death with a crowbar by him, instead of finding your demise by Jaehyun’s hands.

Jaehyun takes his sweet time gathering his belongings from his car. You see he’s not hurt, so you’re not sure if your missed aim was because you are actually rusty with your skills or if it happened because it was Jaehyun you were aiming at. You hope it’s the first option, especially because he had no problem terrorising you for months, only to later show up and throw shurikens your way.

He gets out of his jeep, walking leisurely inside the hotel, and you finally enter the parking lot. Your eyes are on Jaehyun even if you look for a spot to park your car, which you actually manage to do just a few spots away from his own, and you get out following his steps. 

The hotel is nice, but not nice enough to have key cards instead of physical keys. And you can barely contain your smile as you avoid being seen by any staff roaming around, managing to keep your gaze on Jaehyun’s figure and see which room is his.

You can pick a normal lock with your eyes closed, but trying to pick up an automated lock — like the one most hotels have — would have been a total nightmare.

You approach his door, sticking your back to the wall, and you try pricking up your ears and sense if you can hear any type of movement behind the door. Jaehyun’s steps thud as he moves around the room, and you sense them moving farther away from the proximity of the entrance.

It doesn’t take much for you to hear a creaking sound, and then the pitter-patter of the water coming down in his shower, and you know you have to get into his room now that you have the chance.

You pick the lock as silently as possible, and it doesn’t work on the first try, so you wait and pay attention to any noise that might have changed on the other side of the door.

You try again, and this time you succeed — the knob making an almost imperceptible clicking sound that would never be heard over the pitter-patter of the shower.

Looking around yourself, you see Jaehyun’s jacket scattered on the bed like he didn’t even pay attention to where it landed once he took it off. His shoes are by the door, where some of his belongings are also scattered on top of a coffee table in its vicinity. 

You take your gun out, taking careful steps around the small living area and swiftly inspecting the bedroom without finding anything suspicious. You don’t see a bag that might be containing weapons, you don’t see anything suspicious. You don’t see misplaced trash, you don’t see the traces of someone who’s lived here — even if it was for a short amount of time.

You also don’t hear anyone in the shower, although the water is still running and you can see all the steam coming from behind the shower curtain.

But you frown as you take a few more steps towards the bathroom door, reminded of the fact that Jaehyun doesn’t take steamy showers.

You sense him, you see him creeping up on you like the ceiling has just been split in half, and he’s coming down to make an appearance. You turn around, and right before you can do anything and point your gun in his direction, he throws a kick that manages to send your gun flying back to his bedroom. 

You swing your arm, aiming for his head, but he blocks your motions and actually manages to crouch down when you target his head once again, this time with your right leg.

“Stop fighting me!” He warns, because truth be told, he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s ducking down every time you try kicking him with one of your limbs, getting away from all your kicks like he’s a little girl who’d rather run away during perilous situations. 

He’s actually trying his best not to let his instincts kick in and fight you for real this time, because it’s going to be brutal and it’s going to end with either one of you bleeding. 

He tries getting close to you in order to immobilise you, yet you manage to jump to your right and hit the wall, kicking left to get a higher kick and actually knock him down. But he’s quick with his reflexes and after all, who were you even kidding? This man trained just like you did, with these very moves, so he knows everything by heart already. He manages to actually catch you mid-flight and prevent you from moving by keeping you stuck between his arms.

“I said,” he spits through gritted teeth, squeezing you tighter so you stop moving like a fish out of water, “Stop fighti-,” he’s interrupted the moment your head kicks his chin.

He finally lets you go, taking a few steps behind and placing one hand over his aching chin.

“You actually kicked me!” He barks, and you know he’s more shocked than upset.

“I could have done so much more!” You growl, preparing to attack him again. You don’t even care where your gun is right now, you just need to lose all the pent-up tension in your muscles by giving him a good beating. And with the amount of rage you’re feeling, not even a man as tall and sturdy as Jaehyun can feel safe, “You actually tried killing me, earlier,” you reproach him, and he’s in disbelief after registering your words. 

“And you shot me!” He accuses you, his voice suddenly high in pitch with betrayal.

“So fucking sorry, Jaehyun! I should have let your shuriken pierce through my chest!” You scream, exasperated.

He’s ridiculous for being so offended, so sulky, and it was all his fault in the first place. Acting like he didn’t aim his knives at you. You know Jaehyun well enough to know he’s going to be bothered about you shooting at him for a long time, or maybe he’ll be bothered by the fact that he missed his target. Yet you don’t see him trying to remedy his initial mistakes, as he’s now standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered while looking at you.

You’re getting tired of this. Maybe you should just offer to stay still and call it a day, because just the thought of having to run away for the remainder of your life is making you feel all the motivation you had —  all the motivation to pull through and run away in order to save your life — is disappearing. 

“Just shoot me,” you tell him before you can stop yourself. He shudders hearing your words, his head jerking briefly. 

“Are you insane?” He mocks you, grimacing. 

You scoff, dropping your arms exasperated, “Aren’t you here to do this, Jaehyun?” You talk calmly, and Jaehyun almost can’t believe just how calm you’re being. When you see him being in his own head, with no intention of replying, you go on, “Just throw your knives, kill me, take my head or whatever. But please don’t take me back alive because you know what’s gonna happen,”

And of course, Jaehyun knows. He knows the rules, the instructions, he knows what’s going to happen if he captures you and takes you back on your own two feet. He doesn’t want to see you being tortured, and he’s not sure if he’d be able to live knowing he basically did to you so much worse than just taking your life. 

Taking your life should have been easy, easy on him and especially easier on you — because you know very well what going back to the old man would mean for you, everyone from the squad knows. Jaehyun is still so unsure as to why you left the squad, knowing you would bring this upon yourself. But he really doesn’t like where this is leading the two of you.

He either kills you on the spot, and his life will forever be a nightmare from now on, or he takes you back alive, and you’re likely to get killed by the old man or one of his bodyguards, but still under his scrutiny. Either way, Jaehyun’s life is going to be a nightmare. 

“They never said I should take you back alive,” he sighs, dropping with a thud on his unmade bed. He raises his head from the mattress to look at you, and he sees you staying still in your spot by the arcade at the entrance to the bedroom. 

“Then it’s clear as day that you should just kill me,” you insist, and he wants to seal your mouth shut.

But you’re having none of the silent and pensive Jaehyun agenda, because while you accepted it in the past, you’re not as lenient right now — now when your life is at stake.

“Are you even listening to me?” You push, moving your weight from one leg to the other. But you see him ignoring you, and you want to kill him on the spot. One thing that makes you want to go ballistic is his ignoring you, completely lost in his own thoughts, like you’re not here chewing his ears off with your words. 

You see him frowning, raising his head once again, and then carefully getting off the bed, but staying unmoving by the foot of the bed. 

“Jaehyun!” You raise your voice, and the only person who’s ever made you lose your temper this way is standing in front of you, ignoring you, “If you won’t do it, I’ll do it myself in front of your eyes and change the trajectory of your life,” you bark, moving your hands frantically. 

He finally looks at you, still frowning, and he brings a finger to his lips to signal you to shut up. 

You look at him bewildered, because … did this man just tell you to shut the fuck up?

“Oh, you didn’t just tell me to shut it,” Your scoff is loud, outraged, still not believing this just happened —  not believing Jaehyun would ever have the audacity to do this.

“Shhhh!” He lurches towards you, covering your mouth with his hand. You look up at him, and his eyes are piercing and… worried?

He takes his hand off your mouth, but brings his index finger to his lips to instruct you to stay silent. He points his fingers to his ear, and then to the door, and you finally get it. He’s sensing something’s happening outside his door. 

You look at him, and you try to prick up your ears and see if you can hear anything of what he’s sensing, supposedly. Your ears start ringing once again as you try to pay attention, and you feel like punching yourself. Whatever happened to the elite assassin you once were?

You look at Jaehyun once again. Jaw set, eyebrows furrowed, gaze lost while looking into a spot on the carpeted floors of his room. He points to the door once again, and just five seconds after he does so, there’s a knock filling the silence of the room. 

You flinch hearing another knock, but looking at Jaehyun taking a few steps back and away from you has your jaw setting. You’re within the door’s radius, and if anything happened you wouldn’t be able to do much more than jump away from whatever could be coming for you. The fact that Jaehyun snatched your gun earlier, throwing it somewhere by the door, isn’t of any help either. 

You see him touching his lower abdomen, and you look at him, confused. There’s another knock on the door, and within three more seconds, someone kicks the door open with their foot, making you flinch and jump back — but not enough for you to take cover from whatever weapon they might have on themselves.

And the moment they appear and walk through the door, you know that taking cover from a rifle wouldn’t be possible — you’d end up dead anyway. The man loads the rifle, pointing it at your unmoving figure, and you’re too stunned to even think of trying to move away. 

But gladly for you, Jaehyun didn’t lose his assassin senses like you did, and in your petrified state you still manage to see him moving his hand to his pants, pulling out a jackknife and jerking his arm to pull the blade out, and throwing it towards the man holding the rifle aimed at you. All in under two seconds.

The knife hits the man in the heart, making him drop the weapon to his feet and throwing Jaehyun a look right before blood starts spilling from his mouth. He touches the dagger right before collapsing to the ground, and you look at Jaehyun as he approaches you.

“Let’s go, Y/n!” He instructs, pulling you by the wrist, “If he found us here, they’ll come check for him when they’ll see he’s missing!” He mumbles, grabbing the few personal items scattered on the coffee table by the entrance, looking for your gun and placing it in your hands.

“Hey! Snap out of this!” He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, trying to bring your attention to him. 

You’re lost, never expecting Jaehyun to kill someone else in order to protect you — because after all, he was sent to get you one way or another, dead or alive. Yet here he is, bruising your wrist with his involuntary excessive force, looking at you concerned. 

“What’s wrong with you? Get a grip on your elite senses if you don’t want us both to get killed!” He grabs your face with his free hand, and when he sees your eyes focusing on him, attentive and once again aware of your surroundings, he lets you go.

He moves away from you, and snatches the jackknife away from the man’s chest, wiping its blade on the man’s shirt and carefully putting it back into his own pants. He makes sure you take care of your gun, and lifts his bag in order to place it on his shoulder. 

He grabs you again, by the hand this time, and he pulls you out of the room, trying to close the broken door as best as he can.

“We need to get away now, and fast. It’s a matter of time before the staff notice the messed door,” he pulls you away, and his steps are huge while you almost trot next to him as he drags you by your hand, “You have everything you need with you?” He asks, and you know he means personal items like a bag — and weapons.

You nod, “In the car,” and you pull your keys out of your jeans.

He opens your trunk, taking your bag and pushing it into your arms, and his gaze lands on a long clarinet case, and he’s sure your weapons are in there. So he throws you a questioning look, and you only look back at him, understanding each other just by looking at each other.

As he closes the trunk of your car, there’s a woman’s scream disturbing the quiet of the night, and Jaehyun looks at you as he starts running to his car. For some reason, you also start running, and you’re not sure why you’re doing it. You came here to kill him, yet you’re now running away with him.

“Let’s go before they come after us!” Jaehyun throws all your stuff in the backseat of his jeep, and you get into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, “Put your seatbelt on!” His voice is tense as he bosses you around.

He turns around to look back, putting one arm behind your seat so he can have better visibility as he reverses the car. The action makes him get closer to you, and your nose is close enough to him to get a whiff of his unchanged cologne. 

You’ve known Jaehyun for a decade, yet his cologne remained the same. The same clean, fresh smell flooded your senses, even if a bit faded after a long day.

He speeds away from the parking lot, and you realise he’s speeding towards the highway, breaking speed limits. 

“Put a second one just in case,” he instructs you, throwing you a quick look, and when you jerk your head confused, he extends his arm behind your seat once again, pulling a second seatbelt and handing it to you, “Secure it on the other side of the seat,” and you do as he instructs, your chest and body now secured under a cross made of two seatbelts, tightly tied over yourself.

He takes the highway and throws you another look, making sure you listened to him. Seeing you sitting calmly in the seat next to him, he decides to look for his own seatbelt.

“How did you get two seatbelts installed?” You ask, looking at his seat and seeing a second one he doesn’t bother securing for himself. 

“I have my ways,” he explains after a while. Knowing Jaehyun, he probably mulled the answer over and over again in his head, “I know a guy,” he confesses, letting you know the truth, and you only hum in understanding.

He’s speeding and swaying lanes, yet you’re not panicking. In fact, you’ve never been this at peace. You’re not sure where he’s taking you, or what he’s going to do with you. He might have saved you tonight just so he could kill you with his own hands tomorrow. 

But a thought crosses your mind, and it’s so loud you can’t pay attention to anything else. How did that man find you in Jaehyun’s room? And why was he after you, if Jaehyun was the one sent over to hunt you down and kill you?

Jaehyun hits the brakes, honking as one of the cars sways lanes and cuts your way, and your chest hurts a bit with the two seatbelts forcefully keeping you glued to your seat. You don’t even notice Jaehyun’s arm extending in front of you, as if he wanted to keep your body safe and unmoving in case the two seatbelts were not enough.

“You good?” He asks, throwing you a look, but he speeds off once again, “Some people just don’t need to be out on the road,” he mutters to himself, but you hear him nonetheless over the rumble of the car navigating the winds on the highway.

“Where are we going?” You ask, getting more comfortable in your seat. For some reason, you’re incredibly sleepy. Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re not being followed, otherwise Jaehyun would have already let you know — because he’s a talker every time he’s panicking — or maybe it’s the fact that you trust Jaehyun’s driving skills enough to have your body relaxing even in a perilous situation like this one.

“As far away as possible,” his reply is simple, but relaxed, “I have a few options,”

But you don’t fall asleep, because that thought keeps lingering in your mind, that man’s expression as he loaded the rifle reappearing in your head every time you blink. Even if Jaehyun kills you tonight or later tomorrow, you don’t really mind. You’re sure being on the run isn’t the life you want to lead, and now that you found Jaehyun, you’re fairly ready to have him kill you.

You turn your head to the side in order to look at him. His facial features shine, basking in the blue light of the jeep’s console lights. He’s driving with one hand only, keeping the other arm propped on the window to his left, hand playing with his hair as he’s deep in thought. His jaw is set, lazily chewing on a gum, and from time to time he switches his glance away from the road in front of you so as to look to his left before switching lanes.

He’s in his own world, like always, and he doesn’t notice you looking at him. The same man who heard suspicious steps approaching his door earlier and saved both your lives doesn’t sense your gaze on him right now. 

The drive is long, and you and Jaehyun don’t talk to each other. You’re exhausted but you know he is too, and yet every time you ask him if he’d like to switch and let you drive, he refuses. 

He hums to the songs on the radio, taps his fingers on the steering wheel, sometimes imitates some of the instruments playing the melody, and yet you’re used to this, you’re used to him. Maybe the old man did you some good by sending Jaehyun after you, maybe Jaehyun won’t give you a painful death, maybe he’ll be considerate, for old time’s sake.

It’s nearly dawn when Jaehyun takes one of the exits, driving away from the highway. The horizon starts being painted with white and orange hues when he parks the car, and jumps out quickly after undoing his seatbelt.

“We need to rest, and this is actually a good place for us to stay,” he lets you know as soon as you join him in the back of his jeep, watching him as he takes his bag on his shoulder, “You’ll leave your clarinet here until tomorrow,” he throws your bag in your arms, and then walks away towards the motel’s entrance. 

You wait for him by the door, and he’s painfully late while losing track of time talking to the receptionist. You roll your eyes, turning around to look around the parking lot. This is your perfect time to run away yet you don’t do it, and maybe you’re too tired, but you now start regretting driving away with him. 

And he could have killed you in his car if he wanted to, you’re reminded by the voice in your head. And he didn’t. He didn’t even try. One movement of his hand could have sliced your throat open and could have made you bleed out in a minute on his passenger seat, yet he hummed the songs playing on the radio and whistled to the rhythm of Goodnight Moon, a song you knew he liked.

Your patience runs thin when you hear the receptionist giggling, and you actually get fed up with waiting for him, returning to his car and trying to unlock the doors. Which you realise is a total failure the moment the alarms start going off as soon as you hit one of the windows with your foot, and you hear Jaehyun running out of the receptionist’s cubicle to see what had happened after recognising the alarm. So it’s not a failed attempt after all. 

Had he been dumb enough — which isn’t something that ever happens when it comes to Jaehyun — and had he left the car unlocked, you were going to either start the engine one way or another and take off, or just take your stuff out of the trunk and get your clarinet back in your possession, hitting the road even if you had no idea where to go next.

Being a trained assassin had its perks, like physically harming men who tried to assault you in any way — and you could even take off with their cars. 

“Do I have to wait for you to flirt with that receptionist, or can we actually rest peacefully?” You asked him once he made the alarm stop. 

He shows you the keys to your room, and you scoff, “Why do you have just one key? Where’s mine?”

He snorts, dimples on display, “You’re dumb if you think you’re sleeping in a different room than me, baby,”

“Don’t call me that!” You bark back, feet trotting trying to catch up with him as he walks towards your designated room, “And why wouldn’t you trust me? I actually followed you here, didn’t I?” You continue, finally catching up to him.

“You tried to kill me,” he turns around, and it nearly makes you run into his chest, “Twice,” he completes through gritted teeth, his tone sombre. 

“You also tried to kill me,” you defend yourself, shocked at the accusations brought against you. Yes, you tried killing him, but he seems to forget that he’s been terrorising you for months instead of walking up to you and killing you once and for all.

You follow his steps, and he unlocks one of the doors, stepping in first and keeping the door open for you to walk in as well. 

You look around the room. Simple furniture, a closet is carved into one of the walls, there’s a door that you suppose is leading to the bathroom, and the detail you’re most excited about, the twin beds. 

“You should be grateful I’m letting you sleep here on a comfy bed, instead of tying you and leaving you in the trunk until morning,” he throws his shoes and bag away, walking around the room to sit on one of the beds. 

You roll your eyes, dropping your bag by the entrance. You know he locked the door and he’s keeping the key somewhere safe, and even if you tried escaping, you’re sure he’d hear you with his damned supersonic hearing only an elite assassin has. 

“Can’t believe I have to hear your snoring,” you whine, sitting on the other available bed.

“And I can’t believe you’re moaning after I basically saved both of us today. You just stood there like a puppet instead of doing something, anything!” He got up from his spot, coming up next to you to face you. You don’t look at him, too tired to bicker with him after the hell of a day you had. 

“You threw my gun away, so I was basically useless,” You defended yourself tiredly, not even having the energy to raise your voice at him.

“Yes, you were,” he confirms, and you see him pulling his bag on the bed and fishing for a change of clothes, and other essentials like a toothbrush and his shower gel, and then you see him smiling all of a sudden, just one dimple on display as he tries containing his smile, “Thank god the amazing mortal weapon in my pants saved the day,”

You blink twice while looking at him, too stunned to say anything for a few seconds.

“My god, you’re such an idiot!” You whine, bringing your hands up to your face, running them up and down a few times out of frustration, “Can’t believe I have to stay with you and your dumb jokes between these four walls,”

He snorts, way too happy with his idiotic joke and the reaction he got out of you, “I’m not that bad, baby,” You roll your eyes hearing his words, and just as you open your mouth to retort something, he cuts you off, “Yeah, yeah, I know! Don’t call me that, Jaehyun!” He imitates you by repeating your words, imitating your voice by raising his pitch, and you let out a groan, snatching your pillow off your bed.

“Get the fuck out!” You retort, throwing your pillow at his head, but he’s quick entering the bathroom, and he shuts the door after himself as you hear his deep laugh from behind the door. 

This is going to be a long night, you realise as you sigh and plop once again on your bed.

Maybe he should have just killed you.

You wake up the next morning with your head feeling heavy, temples pulsing painfully with every beat of your heart. You blink a few times, expecting bright light to make it difficult for your eyes to adjust — but the dim lights don’t bother your eyes.

You replay the last bits of last night — or earlier this morning, to put it better — right before falling asleep. 

After his shower, Jaehyun made sure to take your gun away, and you actually allowed him, not having the energy to physically fight him for a weapon you don’t even plan on using on him. You could have killed him in numerous other ways, if only you weren’t so sleepy — and if you actually wanted to, to begin with. 

After you were done getting out of the shower, and after bickering with Jaehyun for using his shower gel, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were so exhausted, after weeks of being chased down by the same man you’re now sharing a room with — the psychological terror inflicted on your mind really wore you out, but you managed to have a good night’s sleep after such a long time now that you knew you weren’t being chased and that you didn’t need to stay alert at all times any longer. Or, actually, you were still being chased, but this time you were actually not alone in this.

Which reminds you of the fact that you really need to have a talk with Jaehyun.

You turn around in bed, looking for him on his bed, but the spot he was sleeping in is now empty. Bed unmade, it looks like he’s been up a while now, and your eyes scan the dimly lit room for his presence.

He’s standing next to the window, taking a peek through the curtains as discreetly as possible while biting hungrily on a red apple. He notices you as soon as you turn around, he knows you’re awake but doesn’t spare you a look — at least for now, still busy peeking outside the window.

“Good morning,” he rasps before taking another bite. He turns around, this time taking slow steps towards your beds, sitting on his while still facing you, “I didn’t remember you snored,”

You let out an offended gasp, pushing yourself up on one elbow to see him better, “I so do not snore!”

He hums, unimpressed. He takes another bite from the apple in his hand, “You do. But I slept nonetheless. Now eat this,” he extends the apple towards you, “And get ready, we have to go,”

“What?” You bark, smacking his hand away from your proximity, “Do you think I eat after just anybody?” You retort, raising an eyebrow.

He’s not impressed. There’s so much more he wants to say but he decides against it, and because his silence is heavy and you know what the look in his eyes implies, you grab the apple and bite on it.

“That’s the only thing I had in my bag, we should be good until we stop for proper food along the way,” he takes a new change of clothes out of his bag, packing the garments he wore yesterday.

“Why are you taking me away with you, instead of just killing me? Aren’t you here for this?” You ask as you chew.

“You’re coming with me until I’m sure no one else is following us. Then, we’ll see what to do with you,” he’s calm, he doesn’t even look at you because he knows that it might tick you off and you’ll start another fight with him. He hates fights, especially the ones that are with you.

“Right,” you nod as if that’s the most understandable thing he’s ever said, “About that… we need to talk,” you try, but he dismisses you.

“We need to get going! Go change if you don’t wanna leave in your pyjama shorts right now,” He warns, pointing his head towards the bathroom door.

“But I really need to have this talk with you,” you insist, but still pick up yesterday’s jeans and a new t-shirt from your bag.

“Go change! Now!” He raises his voice at you, exasperated by your constant pushing of his buttons, “We’ll talk when we hit the road,”

“But this is something important that we need to talk face to face about, Jaehyun!” Your tone is suddenly high in pitch, frowning at him and his stubborn behaviour. Maybe if he allowed you to bring up all your concerns and everything that you realised earlier in the car, he might even end up thanking you.

He throws your unloaded gun on your bed for you to keep on yourself once again, “What is it?” He sighs, finally giving in to all your pressuring. He fishes a gun out of his own bag, because he keeps one in all his missions, out of convenience and for collateral damage. He keeps his actual weapons for the ones he’s actually paid to kill.

And you guess it’s one of those habits the entire squad has. Because after training intensely with Ning, trying to be on her level of scorpion, you also keep a dagger in your mission bag out of comfort, and you know for a fact that even Jeno — a butcher — also keeps a revolver on himself at all times. 

“Wasn’t that man suspicious to you?” You start, and you see him furrowing his brows as he closes his bag up. 

“What’s supposed to be suspicious about that man? He was sent to kill us,” he rasps, looking at you like you’re an idiot and have shit for brains.

“The operative word being ‘us’, Jaehyun,” you push, looking at him. You don’t expect Jaehyun to be quick with his reactions, but you expect him to understand what you are implying. 

“Huh?” He squints his eyes, jerking his head at you, all confused. 

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their orbits as you look at him, “Man sent to kill,” you raise one finger in the air, and then raise a second one before pointing out, “Us,” 

He still looks at you confused, and you want to kill him. He makes you want to scream and rip your hair off when he’s being slow about important stuff. Totally normal Jaehyun behaviour that can be accepted when situations are not as critical as this one is.

“Jaehyun!” You call out his name, frustrated, your raging eyes looking into his confused ones, “A man that was sent to kill us! Not me,” you point your index finger at your chest, and his eyes follow your actions, “Us, Jaehyun. You and me!” You accentuate your words, making sure the words get to his brain and he registers them instead of him hearing you, without listening properly.

“What are you even talking about? That man came in and tried shooting you,” he retorts, looking at you like you’re taking things out of proportion.

“But he didn’t come for me! That’s what I’m trying to tell you and you won’t even listen!” Your voice breaks with frustration. At your words, he looks at you, showing you he’s actually all ears right now, prompting you to continue — and you do, “He pointed that rifle towards me because I was in his radius and he didn’t see you! I wasn’t even supposed to be there with you to begin with!”

He throws you a sombre look, like you’re finally making the gears in his head turn with your words. His jaw is set and his fingers are unmoving on the zip of his bag, already not thinking about it anymore. You really got his full attention.

“I got there after chasing you, so it was a pure coincidence. He wasn’t there for me, he was there for you!” You point at him, hoping he’ll understand your logic.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back before looking at you once again.

“He tried shooting me because he didn’t see you, and that’s also what got him killed. But this proves they sent someone after you, too,” You move your hands around, pointing your hands to him, showing your palms like you’re silently telling him here you go, I told you this was important. 

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as your words echo in his head, and it all starts making sense.

“You lost so much precious time playing your little cat and mouse game to terrorise me, that they sent someone to get you for not doing your job!” You accuse him, but you’re getting worked up because you know this shouldn’t have happened. If only he actually came for you from the beginning, maybe you would have been more accepting of your fate and ultimate demise instead of running away, just like you’re doing right now.

So you pick up your gun, loading it, and pointing it at Jaehyun — all in under one second.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/n? I thought we were past this. Put that fucking gun down,” he barks, incredibly irked by your actions.

“This is all your fault. You had to be fucking annoying instead of doing your fucking job you were being paid for! And now there’s a bounty on your head too!” You raise your voice at him, and you don’t care if your neighbours are hearing you. In your head, either one of you won’t be leaving this room alive — and you’re more than sure you want to be the one who goes through this.

“Put. It. Down.” He barks back, like he didn’t even hear you. And it only drives you even more insane. 

“No!” You spit, turning your gun’s safety off with one finger, and still aiming it at Jaehyun’s head, “You pick your gun up,” you point at his own weapon on the bed, the one he took out of his own bag just a bit earlier in order to check out, “Pick it up!” You scream, and he does as you say, his eyes never leaving yours. “Now turn the safety off,”

He does just as you say, but you know he’s dying to argue back. You see it in his eyes that have now darkened, you see it in his jaw that is now set, you see it in the way he’s literally swallowing down all the words he’s dying to let out. 

“And now what? You’re going to shoot me?” He asks as calmly as possible, but there’s something sombre in his chest and if you didn’t know him this well, you’d have been afraid of even crossing him.

You shake your head, “You’re going to shoot me,” and your hand remains steady, no shaking, you have tunnel vision and Jaehyun is the only thing you can see in front of you — like your assassin senses are once again here and have never failed you before. 

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to pull the trigger!” He shakes his head at you, an accusatory tone dripping off his tongue, and he squints his eyes at you in mockery, “Listen to me! We’ll get out of this shit!” 

“How?!” You are desperate, but not desperately asking for mercy — you’re desperate trying to make him understand that this is the best for both of you. You don’t care anymore, you don’t want to be on the run, you don’t want to be without Yizhuo and live a life like nothing has happened, “There’s a bounty on our heads, they’re out there looking for us, and you know there’s no going back!” 

“We can pay the penalties! We can get out of this, together!” He’s starting to lose his patience. You’re out of your mind thinking he’ll actually kill you. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, but he’s glad he was the one sent over to find you and that he stalled. He doesn’t regret it one bit, but he’s sorry you have to go through so much in order to run away for your life, and he’s also following right behind you — since he’s also in trouble now. 

All his shattered dreams come back to him, hopeful, like he’s never given up on them, like they have never been stepped on by the old man.

“I’m not paying a fucking shit ton of millions to get out of this,” You’re calm, and over time this sudden change and sudden calmness of yours had Jaehyun learn not to trust you. You’re going to have another crash out soon, “Just shoot me! And you’ll be able to get out of this even if you stalled! He’ll understand!” You beg him, and your words anger him more than he’s letting on.

“Put the gun down, put it down now,” he warns, and his patience is starting to wear thin, “Put it down or shoot me, Y/n, but make sure not to miss your target,” 

You feel your eyes brimming with tears while your gaze is still on him, and you see him putting his arm down, turning his gun’s safety back on and tossing it away somewhere on the floor.

“What are you doing?” You panic seeing him walking towards you menacingly calmly.

He gets close to you, sticking his chest to your pointed gun, yet his eyes never leave yours. And like challenging you to do something about the fact that he’s standing vulnerable in front of you, he pushes his body against the gun.

“I’m not shooting you, Y/n,” he rasps, “You’ll have to either shoot me or put down the gun,” he challenges, and you’d really like to pull the trigger right this moment, but your bottom lip starts quivering as you look up at him. 

He’s upset, he’s actually raging, but you can see he’s containing every bit of emotion to not blow up on you. You know how he gets when he’s upset, and not the sulky upset you might find endearing — you mean the one in which he’s absolutely terrifying, and no one and nothing shall get in his way. 

He finally takes your gun away from you, turning the safety back on and scattering it away from the two of you. He doesn’t say anything, but in this moment you’d rather he fought you and bickered with you instead of just flaring his nostrils at you. 

You sit on the bed, not having it in you to look at him, not after the intense moment that just happened, not after you let him know it’s okay to kill you, and especially after he challenged you to shoot him dead and you didn’t. You know him so well, and every word you said was true. If he actually killed you, he could still go back to the old man and ask for forgiveness for stalling his mission. Sure, he would have lost the commission promised on the mission, and maybe he could have even been forced to pay penalties for stalling, for having another hitman sent after him — and you, and for killing said hitman. But he was going to be forgiven, he was going to be able to go back to work and still face your former boss. Now he’s in the middle of a shitstorm.

“I’ll go take our bags to the car. You go change,” He sighs, taking all weapons away from you, including the bag sitting next to you, “I’ll be downstairs,” he mumbles as he opens the door, “Please be quick, we need to hit the road,” 

And he closes the door after himself, with a calmness only specific to Jaehyun and Jaehyun only.

And that’s how you know it’s bad.

V. NOWHERE AND EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE

The drive to Jaehyun’s next destination was silent, a total nightmare having to sit next to him and feeling so guilty for some reason. You feel like you’ve indeed killed someone just as collateral damage and for no other reason whatsoever. 

Jaehyun was definitely sulking all the time, not exchanging a single word with you. Not asking you anything, and making sure you knew he was ignoring you every single time you asked something like ‘where are we going?’, and ‘do you wanna stop for a bit and stretch your legs?’

But he didn’t overlook your needs. He took frequent breaks, he allowed you to stretch in the parking lot as he drank three espressos one after the other, he stopped for food every time he thought your stomach grumbled. He made you stay up as he rested in the backseat, but also allowed you to sleep for the entirety of the time he was driving. He did all this while giving you the silent treatment, not asking anything of you but expecting you not to open your mouth either.

You watched his body language, observing everything carefully. Jaw set, eating mints and chewing gum every time he tried fighting off sleep while driving. He hummed along to songs from time to time, and even if he had a recurring thought that he wanted to share with you, he refrained from doing so, not even looking your way.

Three days of this and you were exhausted, you felt like throwing up. Your legs felt like sticks that had absolutely no reason being attached to your body. You haven’t had a decent shower or felt the comfort of new clothes ever since you left the last motel, and you would have actually complained if you knew you could get on Jaehyun’s nerves by doing so. But because he kept ignoring you like you weren’t even there with him, you just shut your mouth.

But a heavy feeling weighed down on you, eating at your insides as you kept thinking that you’re the reason Jaehyun is behaving this way. Maybe you took it too far, but you genuinely feel like you can’t keep doing this. And the thought that Jaehyun is also in great danger because of you makes your insides churn with guilt. 

Or maybe it isn’t your fault after all. You forget all about the guilt — maybe because of just how tired and hungry you are — but maybe it’s his own fault for putting his own life at risk. He could have killed you when he had the chance, right at the beginning — in Beijing — but he dragged it and stalled for so long that he’s now running with you to the middle of nowhere in order to save his own life.

And you’re grateful you actually reach the hotel that’s supposed to shelter you for a bit until Jaehyun decides to actually talk to you, or until he decides to tell you his plan. Because you know he has one.

He gets the key from the reception, not even bothering to keep an eye on you — maybe because he knows you’re just as exhausted as he is after so many days on the road, he actually lets both your and his bags full of weapons by your feet as he sorts things with the receptionist. He takes you upstairs, and right as you try opening your mouth to talk to him, he walks straight to the bathroom, and you can hear water start running in the shower.

You sigh, plopping down on one of the chairs in the corner of the room, and your head falls on the table. Not that you needed to sit down after three days of doing just that continuously, but you’re honestly exhausted. Your temples throb with every beating of your heart, you feel more exhausted than you’ve ever felt before — even more than what you felt when you first ran away in order to reach Beijing. 

Trying to focus on your breathing in order to block the headache and all the discomfort away, you feel your limbs getting heavier, and the bathroom door opens swiftly. Your senses are flooded by Jaehyun’s scent, his shower gel and cologne that just match each other are very welcomed by your nose, especially right now.

You stand to your feet, trying to keep your balance as best as you can, and you notice he’s changed clothes right before coming out of the bathroom. You need to be the one doing the first step and try to mend this whole thing up, especially because you’re in this together.

“Jaehyun, can we-,” but you’re interrupted by the door slamming after him. He left you behind once again, stranded in the middle of nowhere, and he even locked the door like you are his prisoner. Maybe he’s going to finally complete his mission, hoping he’ll be able to go back to things as they were before he acted so carelessly. Maybe it really took him three days to understand the weight of your words, and that you were right. The tens of millions that each of you had in your respective bank accounts would never be enough to pay a penalty and go back together, not if you combined the entirety of each other’s wealth. But he could go back, live for a few months following the old man’s own terms and conditions, and then life would definitely go back to normal.

But it can’t be said about you. You don’t have all these benefits. The day you left, when you resigned, not only did you resign from your job — you resigned all the rights you had to go on with living a peaceful life. And the day you joined the squad and signed your contract with the old man, you basically gave away all the rights you had over your own life. 

And you knew it, but you were just out of school — a very impressionable young adult that was just beginning to taste all the flavours of life and independence. And this job surely gave you more than you could bear. Your commission wasn’t the biggest or most appealing — at least at the beginning, but it offered you a life that was worth living, and every mission was paid more than what a regular office worker would earn annually in the financial district. 

Over time, your commission increased with every mission and with every success, and you and Ning never failed any of your missions. Until that one, which cost you so much more than penalties and money. It cost a human life and your whole ability to live peacefully as a member of the squad. 

You felt itchy — not comfortable with your own body; you felt your mind was the loudest it had ever been and it was driving you insane, and for what? The day it dawned on you that it actually happened, that you actually lost the only important person in your life, you couldn’t bear knowing you had to go on and keep living like this, leading the criminal life — even if the money was the best part. 

But money meant absolutely nothing when you couldn’t peel yourself off the floor. It meant nothing when you were alone and hallucinating conversations you never had with Ning, but would have loved to at some point. But it was too late, there was no going back, and you were left looking in a corner like she was speaking to you in person.

You sigh, your skin suddenly covered with goosebumps at the thought of Ning and everything you had to go through, and it actually didn’t matter anymore — nothing mattered. Not the sore muscles, not the pain in your bones, not the headache, and certainly not the hunger that made your stomach growl — because after all, it had been more than twelve hours since you last ate, the moment Jaehyun decided it was time for a little break during your drive.

And Jaehyun, now that your mind is back on him, you wish things had gone differently between the two of you. A rivalry that was born out of spite, you wish he would recognise this as well.

You whine in pain as you walk towards the bathroom, taking your own change of clothes out of your bag, and they seem to be among the last few clean clothing items left that you can use without leaving to look for a laundrette. You still don’t have your own shower gel, so Jaehyun will have to forgive you once again for using his stuff, and you get under the steamy showers.

Jaehyun. There’s so much you’d like to tell him, so many things you need to open his eyes on. He’s not confrontational, at least with words and feelings. He’s never been. He’s hot-headed when it comes to stuff that's not related to work, but he’s the most exemplary member of the squad. 

He had already been a member of the squad when you joined. Granted that you had to wait a bit more so Yizhuo could complete her training — it also allowed you to get a better training in using knives, beyond the basic levels that were required of you — you actually didn’t participate in the first complete training everyone attended. You were flown out to Cuba with your partner in crime for a very special mission, so attending the training in the mountains was out of question, not even the old man thought of sending you back only a few months after completing your full training. 

So it was a failed opportunity to meet everyone from the squad, that you didn’t get. You never met your coworkers. They didn’t live in the same city as you and Yizhuo — who basically did everything together, even if you had your own separate apartments — so it was hard to actually meet them outside these training camps.

The old man had mentioned that once a year the squad was set to meet for a joined training session, but he also mentioned the fact that you could get one any time you wanted, and with his lack of active need to add people to the squad after you and Ning joined and made it whole, it was very easy for any of you to show up to the camp in the mountains and train without having newbies around.

And just as you were nearing the one-year mark as a member of the squad, with absolutely no other plans or prospects for a bit until your next mission, you decided to go back where it all began, where you felt like home — you went back to the mountains. 

While Ning was somewhere in Maui going paragliding, you decided you’d embrace the cool summer mornings the mountains offered you.

That’s when you met Jaehyun and his cool motorcycle. Looking at him today, you’d never think he used to be one to search for that kind of adrenaline, messiness, liberty. He’s so private about his life, nowadays he’s so determined to keep his cool portrayal — but you know how he used to be.

A rebel, someone chasing a liberating feeling that only the speeding of his motorcycle and fast knife skills allowed him to feel like he was living to the fullest. 

He walked up to you the moment you parked your car next to his motorcycle. He was training just around the corner and heard your engine, and a small dimple formed on his barely contained smile that he showed you as soon as you got out of the car.

He knew you were one of the new additions to the team, he just didn’t know which one out of the two you were.

“Cottonmouth,” you exhaled, not expecting to meet a member of the squad so suddenly and so soon.

He smiled at you, extending his right hand for you to shake, “Deathstalker.” 

You frowned hearing his code name. You knew the categories, what they meant, but you didn’t know the code names. 

“Scorpion,” he cleared the confusion for you, still smiling as you nodded at him, your travel bag still in your hand as he kept making small talk with you by your car. 

You pointed a thumb to your chest, “Viper.”

“I know that!” He chuckled, grin reaching his eyes, and he started walking towards the hotel’s entrance. “I’ve been dying to meet you,” he confessed while walking after you.

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to look at him, and he almost tripped on your trolley the moment you stopped, making him throw his legs around in order to keep his balance.

“I heard you trained for the shortest period before finally being accepted,” he explained, nervously moving his hands around, “I was curious about your skills.”

You raise your eyebrows at him without even realising, “I… Well that’s not me,” You shake your head, giving him a small smile even if he’s the one raising his brows as you spoke up, “That’s my partner, Copperhead,” You cleared all confusion between the two of you, except he actually jerked his head as he registered your words, “She was supposed to be a scorpion just like you, she’s really great,”

He shook his head, “No, I know your reputation around here as a duo. You’re the one who had a shorter training period,” he pointed at you, and dang it — he was so sure of himself, suddenly the soft façade was replaced by a cocky one that was only normal for someone who knew was being correct about all assumptions. With the amount of confidence dripping off his body language, you thought he could have sold you any lie, and you’d have believed every single word coming out of his mouth. 

He’d always been convincing. Maybe it was the confidence given by his looks, or by the fact that he knew he was an elite in his field — one of the best, with a success rate of one hundred percent even at that young age. 

And at first he didn’t bother you, but as days passed you became curious, and the curiosity only made things worse. You started looking for him when you knew he was out training, and you weren’t even sure why or how you started training together, but you know you got close quite fast. 

And it was only normal for it to happen, as you were the only ones on that mountain. You trained together, you got to know each other and, after a bit, you stopped using code names. 

You cleaned together, you cooked together, you shared a pot of ramyeon on the patio as you sat in front of an impromptu bonfire. No one lived around your area, yet surprisingly he knew his way around, he had stories to tell, places to review and share his opinion on with you. 

Awkward handshakes became sharing a blanket on the patio as you also shared a cigarette — he was the one to light them up, and he offered you a smoke from time to time. Limbs crashing during physical training became intertwined arms as you walked around, which ultimately became lingering touches. A strand of hair away from your eyes, hands touching as both of you reached for something at the same time. Yet nothing more happened, keeping it in the safe territory for the sake of your jobs.

You left the training camp and you kept in touch, and somehow he was ‘in the area’, your area, once every two weeks. You knew he was lying, you knew he had no missions in your city. You knew he always came by in order to see you.

For some reason, Jaehyun always came back to you like a moth to a flame, and he never failed to show you just how much he was enjoying his time with you — in the most respectful of ways. And then he started holding your hand when you went out for a walk around the city, he started leaving some of his stuff around your place, he started taking you out for dinner while sharing bits of his life with you. He started being more affectionate, a bit bolder every time he came around, every time he drank a bit more than his normal limit. Stealing kisses as you dropped him at the airport when he had to go back home and prepare for a mission.

And you thought it was going in the right direction. After all the nice moments spent together, you could actually see the two of you were going somewhere. And all the signs coming from him showed that he felt the same way. 

The mandatory annual training session with the whole squad came around a few months after you and Jaehyun started seeing each other — when he supposedly had missions in your city and he forgot the way back to his own home, living with you for a bit before work called him back for duty.

And your coworkers became your friends soon after. Yes, sure, you weren’t on first-name basis with them like you were with Jaehyun or Ning, but it was nice to get to know them and finally opening up after a few weeks together — time that led to all of them dropping the code names in front of you. 

By the third week, the old man came around, and you were filled in on the traditions. He was going to put you into pairs and have you compete against each other in the same categories. But they reassured you that you were going to be paired with someone with your same strength and gender, and that it was just for fun.

“I have an amazing idea!” The old man clapped his hands as he bit into a peach, “Let’s have Deathstalker and Cottonmouth fight each other!” He laughed, grin reaching his eyes as he could barely contain his excitement.

There was a general whisper that filled your ears, “What?” Everyone whispered to each other, and you looked at the old man hoping you didn’t hear him right. 

He raised one finger, waggled it in the air before pointing it at you, and then gestured for you to get in the middle. One look at Jaehyun and you knew he didn’t want this either. Jaw set, nostrils flaring in anger, you had never seen this side of him. He kept his arms behind his back as he got in the middle to join you, avoiding your gaze like he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you.

The shift in his mood made your stomach drop, because he could at least have looked your way. Yet he didn’t, and when you were once again prompted to fight each other, he only let his arms loose — with them falling freely around his figure. 

You heard a gun loading, and the old man shot it blindly up in the sky — not aiming at anything or anyone in particular, but that was your first warning that you had to get into positions. 

And then Jaehyun did get into position to get ready to fight you, and that hurt you more than one of his punches would have. But looking in introspection right now, as you’re using his shower gel and expensive shampoo, what was he supposed to do? Have both of you shot because you refused to take orders from your boss?

Your memory is blank, you don’t remember how it started, you just knew that you were the one who did. And you took some punches as well, it was inevitable — but you tried your best to affirm yourself and fight Jaehyun. Because after all, what else could you have done? Were you supposed to wait for Jaehyun — who was known for having the force of a brute, especially during physical fighting — to punch you repeatedly? So you fought like your life depended on it, and it wasn’t that it actually did, but you couldn’t afford to get too hurt.

Jaehyun lost, but you were exhausted, and you knew he let you win.

“Jaehyun, wait!” You called after him as you followed his steps towards his room. After being dismissed by the even more cheerful voice belonging to the old man, Jaehyun left fuming, “I said wait!”

“What?” He barked, turning around to look at you. “What is it?”

“Why did you let me win?” You asked him, trying to understand what was going on behind those raging eyes. Yes, he let you win and you knew it — everyone knew it. You were positive you could have become just dust in the wind if he took the fight seriously.

“I didn’t let you win,” his tone was sombre, like he was trying to wrap up the conversation before it even started properly.

“Hey!” You snarled, touching his arms to bring his attention back on you once he turned his back to you, “What is going on? Why did this even happen?” You tried understanding why everything had to unfold the way it did. They told you it was all for fun and to test each other’s abilities, yet it took a turn when you and Jaehyun were brought up. On top of it all, Jaehyun barely touched you, barely looked at you, and he evidently let you win. It didn’t matter just how much damage you tried to cause him, two punches and a kick from him and you were going to disintegrate into thin air.

“Nothing happened, and I didn’t let you win!” He barked back at you, snatching his arm out of your grasp, “Congratulations, Cottonmouth!” And with that, he left you behind.

From that day on, things changed forever. No more Jaehyun dropping by unexpectedly, no more Jaehyun texting or calling you, no more Jaehyun exchanging cheeky jokes and looks with you. No more Jaehyun.

Not even a glance thrown your way during the annual squad training in the mountains. Everything changed, everything seemed like all the good times spent with Jaehyun might as well have been all in your head, and in reality, he hated your existence and the air you breathed. 

And isn’t it ironic, that he was also the one being sent after you? Isn’t it ironic, that after ten years of rivalry, you’re now in the shower using his products and smelling just like him?

Your muscles are thanking you for the scorching hot water you blessed them with. Your skin has never been as hungry for a steamy shower as it is right now. 

You feel slightly better after you shower, and when you exit the bathroom with your hair still damp, Jaehyun also walks into the hotel room, carrying bags in his arms.

He sets them down, opens a bottle of water to take a sip, all while still not paying attention to you. Maybe both of you need to rest, sleep on it at least for tonight, and maybe things will be better in the morning.

You get under the covers, bare legs touching the cool sheets, and you’ve never been more ecstatic to actually feel your head hit the pillow, and you’re sure you can fall asleep in a millisecond as soon as you close your eyes.

But rustling around the room distracts you once again, and you open your eyes to throw a look at Jaehyun and what he might be doing. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You panic. Seeing his navel wasn’t on your to-do list tonight. 

He stops his movements, holding his t-shirt in his hands before looking at you, sporting a puzzled look on his face.

“I’m changing,” He says, but it comes out more as a question. 

“No,” you blurt out while looking at him, and you think you’re in a staring contest with the man. “You’re not changing, you’re stripping,” You correct him.

“Yeah,” He says, but it comes out as a question once again, “I kinda need to do that to change myself,” He doesn’t bother looking back at you, he’s looking for another t-shirt laying around the room, a cleaner one anyway. 

You see his head emerge through the neck of the t-shirt he chose to wear. His black, fluffy hair bouncing in different directions before he passes a hand through it. He reaches for the edge of the bed throw, and you panic once again.

“No,” You shake your head, looking at him from your spot on the bed. “What do you think you’re doing?” You ask again, and he halts his actions once more. 

“I’m getting into bed?” He asks, and he knows he’s doing nothing wrong, but seeing you so set on asking stupid questions, he thinks you’re playing a push-and-pull game. 

“What do you mean you’re getting into bed? This bed?” You raise your voice a bit, but you shut your mouth immediately, remembering that you need to keep quiet because no one needs to know you’re in this room.

“Do you see any other bed here, Y/n?” You recognise his tone and how you’re pissing him off, and you’re making an impossible effort not to start another fight with him. 

“I won’t sleep in the same bed as you, Jaehyun,” You mutter, throwing him a warning look that you hope he understands. But even if he does, he ignores you. 

“Suit yourself,” He mumbles while pulling the throw a bit before getting into bed next to you, “I need to rest.”

You throw the blanket covering your legs, pulling yourself away from the headboard, so you can turn around on your spot on the bed in order to look at him. You think there’s smoke coming out of your nose and ears, and you look at him, with his stupid, fluffy head resting peacefully on his pillow.

“Cut me some slack, Y/n,” He sighs, rubbing his eyes, “I even went out alone and brought you food,”

“And whose fault is that?” You raise your voice once again, “You left me here alone, Jaehyun. So don’t act like it’s my fault you went out by yourself and you’re extremely tired right now,” You press your index finger repeatedly on his chest as you make your accusations.

“You know what? Fine.” He gets out of bed before you can blink twice, pulling his pillow away from the bed. “I’ll sleep on the fucking floor and tomorrow you’ll go out by yourself and get some food for me,” He retorts angrily, not even looking you in the eye.

You see him looking for a spare towel, which he throws on the floor in anger, his pillow following suit. 

The blanket he chose not to pull away from you suddenly burns your skin, and guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach as you see him turning the lamp lights off and getting on the floor on top of that towel. 

You don’t move, still consumed by the sudden guilt that’s eating you from inside, and you’re not sure how many minutes pass with you staying still in your spot on the bed, exactly how he left you. You wait to see if his breathing has changed or if he’s starting to snore lightly like he usually does, but you don’t hear anything.

You turn the lamp on your bedside table back on, and swiftly crawl towards the foot of the bed, to see him frowning and lying on his side on the floor.

“Jaehyun? Are you sleeping?” You whisper, hoping he’ll be kind enough to react instead of ignoring you because you upset him.

“Go to bed, Y/n, I’m not in the mood to fight,” He groans, not bothering to move an inch from his spot on the cold floor.

“Come to bed, I’m sorry,” Your voice is filled with regret, and he thinks he misheard you or that he misunderstood your tone.

He gets up, pulling his pillow after him. You crawl back to your side and you see him turning the lamp lights back off before settling comfortably on his side of the bed. 

His cologne fills your senses, and then you hear him sigh once again — and you know he’s about to fall asleep this time, finally in the comfort of this bed.

You sleep for the entirety of the next day, and it surprises Jaehyun. To the point that he’s actually checking if you’re still breathing. You feel him hovering and bringing his hand to your face a few times throughout your sleep, but you don’t wake up because frankly, you don’t care. 

So you toss and turn, move around, you don’t even feel your leg touching Jaehyun’s or the fact that you actually take over the bed like it’s your own, nearly making him fall out of it.

You only wake up when you hear the door closing, and you straighten up, panicking.

“Woah, careful,” Jaehyun mumbles, walking around the room. You look at him through your lashes, eyes still so sleepy even after the sleep marathon, which your entire body is thankful for, “I thought we said you’d be going out to buy food today,” he mumbles, still standing in front of your figure on the bed, “I was gonna starve waiting for you to wake up,”

“How many hours did I sleep for?” You stretch, whimpering at the nice feeling of your rested muscles finally regaining mobility and energy. 

He looks at you, unsure if he should say it or not, “Eighteen,” he takes a sip out of a cup, hiding his smile behind its rim. “Here,” he extends a cup towards you, “Coffee,” and you could already tell by the smell. 

You gladly take it, sipping on the still-warm beverage that was just too perfect. Perfect amount of sugar, no milk, just how you liked it. You look up at Jaehyun only to notice him already looking down at you, cup still up to his lips. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat at the way he’s looking at you, at the fact that he still remembers how you liked your coffee, and maybe even at the fact that he’s talking to you right now. 

He plops down on the bed right next to you, “You need to eat, there’s yesterday’s burrito still waiting for you,”

“Can we talk?” You gulp, not looking at him. In fact, your eyes are glued to the lid covering your cup, looking at the imprint that your lips have left behind. 

“We are talking,” he sighs, and if you didn’t feel so anxious all of a sudden you’d actually throw a punch or two. But the thoughts you had in the shower resurfaced right now, and the fact that both of you are in danger just makes this whole thing more urgent. You need to clear the air, clear all misunderstandings. You might actually die soon, and you have no idea what went wrong all those years back.

“I-” he starts, but is interrupted by your fidgeting as you get yourself in a more comfortable position while sitting down next to his lying figure, “I have a plan. We can make this work, if you trust me,” he mumbles.

And right now, you’d be a fool to even think of not trusting Jaehyun. Maybe he will really make this work this time. 

“We’ll leave in two days,” he lets you know, and for the first time ever you don’t feel like questioning his judgement. If anything happens and you end up dead, you’ll be at peace with it, knowing you found your demise trusting the man in front of you, and that you could have gone through that or much worse much earlier. You’re at peace knowing that you could die trusting Jaehyun and his plan, just as much as you could die running away — it’s a risk you’re willing to take.

Something happened to Jaehyun. You’re not sure if the thoughts he mulled over and over again in his head made him change his attitude towards you, while just last night it felt like he couldn’t even look at you. Or maybe it’s the fact that he got a proper and good sleep, after eating some consistent food instead of sandwiches and junk food you picked up on the road. Or maybe it’s the small walk he went on right before you woke up, during which he bought coffee for both of you.

Whatever it is, you think you’ll find out as you look at him and the way he looks at the ceiling, his gears turning inside his head trying to find the right words, or maybe he’s just thinking if he should tell you about the plan right now or later as the two of you hit the road again.

“I talked to a buddy of mine,” he finally rasps, making you flinch in surprise. He turns to look at you, piercing eyes looking straight into your eager ones. “His name’s Johnny,” he sits up to take a sip from his coffee cup, “He can shelter us for as long as we need. He’ll help us out,” 

“Johnny?” You ask, the name awfully familiar. But you can’t remember meeting anyone named like this, and you’re sure the name might seem familiar after hearing it somewhere. 

“I know you don’t know him, but we can trust him,” Jaehyun nods, avoiding your gaze. He looks awfully suspicious, but your senses aren’t making the alarms in your head go off, and so you nod, making Jaehyun get visibly relaxed, “That’s where I was… I used a payphone a few miles away and called him,”

You smile at him, encouraging him to tell you a bit more about the plan, and there’s a sparkle in Jaehyun’s eyes as he starts gabbing about what he and Johnny talked about on the phone.

And suddenly, watching as his features soften and his complexion lightens up as he speaks, your heart skips a beat realising this is the Jaehyun you knew and missed, and that he’s coming back to you.

VI. WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE

Jaehyun’s plan was simple. Get to Johnny, whose house was supposedly going to be the perfect shelter for the two of you — assassins who had multiple bounties on their heads — and you could stay there as long as needed. 

You know Jaehyun well enough to know he hasn’t disclosed everything to you, only the parts convenient to his perfect story making it past his lips. His rambling felt delicious, and you took great pleasure in seeing him so relaxed while talking to you. No more tiptoeing, no more gulping down confrontational talks — you and Jaehyun needed to get along in order to make the plan work. 

The only possible problem that could have hindered your sweet escape? Being detected as you left the country, and you saw Jaehyun stiffening the moment he explained to you that Johnny’s private jet couldn’t reach you, so a one-way ticket on a normal airline was your only option. 

Together, you managed to travel undetected while using your fake id’s — you wanted to use one of the many they forged for you in Okinawa, but Jaehyun knew a guy. There’s always a guy. And he couldn’t risk having your fake id’s traced down and you to be found.

After landing, the two of you got into a cab, because Jaehyun thought that staying together meant not getting caught easily. If it meant having two very well-trained pairs of eyes to look out for possible dangers, then the two of you were definitely going to stick together. 

“You’re staring,” Jaehyun finally speaks up after the two of you manage to make it safe and sound away from the airport. A bandana is keeping his hair covered, expensive sunglasses perfectly placed on the bridge of his perfect nose. If he didn’t seem suspicious, your staring at him certainly made him look so.

You shrug, following him under the scorching sun as you make your way through the thick crowds, and you grab the hand he extends behind himself, for you to anchor yourself to. You have no belongings with you, having discarded of everything as soon as you managed to leave the airport behind after landing.

You shrug, albeit he can’t really see you, “You seem to know your way around,” 

You hear him huff a laugh, and he turns his head to look at you, one dimple on display, “I told you, Johnny and I go way back. I know how to get around his city,”

There seems to be something Jaehyun wants to add, but refrains from doing so. Instead, he just drops your hand, and walks in front of you in order to make way for the two of you among the sea of tourists wandering on the streets.

You’re glad you don’t have a problem with crowds and crowded spaces, because this is the perfect place and perfect time to lose yourself and to have some sort of panic attack.

 Jaehyun takes you to a secluded area, a whole lot of huge storage units, and you follow behind him like a lost puppy. His broad shoulders are clad in a black t-shirt that kisses his muscles just the right way, his jeans make his legs even longer, as if that is possible. You look at yourself, and then at him, and you think you’d definitely think you look suspicious if you saw anyone going around like the two of you are. Or maybe you’re too self aware, and nobody really cares about you and Jaehyun, yet you still need to keep an eye on your surroundings. 

Jaehyun starts whistling a new tune as he nearly trots towards one of the storage units, at the end of the whole lot. He seems to be able to compartmentalise his energy more efficiently than you, because after travelling and getting your way around the city up to this point, you’re absolutely exhausted. But Jaehyun is in a good mood, he’s relaxed, almost as if he truly knows this place to perfection. And it really leads you to question one essential thing, who is Johnny? And what kind of connection is there between him and Jaehyun?  Jaehyun never mentioned him up until a few days ago, not even all those years back when you two started getting to know each other.