Jedha

He brought the arm behind his back to present you with a small box, wrapped in pretty paper, and tied with festive bow. Oh, he was up to something for sure, he was being theatrical.

“Three guesses on who pulled your name. You should probably open this now before the others get here,” he joked, shaking the box in his hands expectantly, waiting for you to take it. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes and you hesitated. He rolled his eyes at you, and placed the box in your hands, “It’s not going to bite you, just open it.”

“Okay, okay!” you acquiesced, suppressing a smile.

You tore the paper and bow off the box, revealing a clear, plastic package, and brought it closer to see what was inside. When you read the label you felt your cheeks heat up.

He bought you dirty dice. Naughty fun with each roll.

You opened the plastic package to inspect them closer. 

There were three; two of which had six sides and words on them. One had an action word, and the other had places on the body. The combination facing you happened to be: Touch Lips. 

Those two were tame compared to the third one. This one had ten sides and tiny pictures showcasing different positions… sexual positions to be specific. Your jaw dropped and you closed your fist tightly around the three dice, feeling extremely embarrassed.

“Oh my god! What the hell, Woo!” You whisper-yelled at him, looking around the living room of Yunho’s house.

The annual Christmas party was happening later, and you two were early to help set up. Thankfully you were the only ones here. Yunho had gone to the store to get bags of ice, and the others were supposed to arrive soon.

He held back his snickers, putting his phone away. He was recording!? Why that little…

“Oh come on! You love them, don’t act like you don’t,” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

Sure, you found them intriguing, but maybe a houseplant or a gift card to your favorite store would have been a more appropriate gift. The dice had the potential to be a good gift, the only problem was, “I don’t even have anyone to use these with, you know that.”

He looked past you, smiling, “Oh I wouldn’t be too sure about that…”

“What are you implying?” you deadpanned.

“Merry Christmas you guys!”

You froze in your spot, eyes going wide. You weren’t expecting him to be here yet.

“San! Merry Christmas!” Wooyoung smiled, winking at you.

You shoved the dice in your pocket and turned around with a smile on your face, teasing him, “Wow! San arriving early? It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He was holding a couple of bags of ice, carrying them to the kitchen with Yunho. With a playful scowl on his face, he quipped back, “Is that really how you want to greet your friend who bought you a present, even though I didn't pull your name?”

You felt your heart do a flip as you walked towards the kitchen, putting on a merry voice, “Of course not! What I was about to say was Merry Christmas Sannie~!”

Sure, perhaps that was a bit over the top. Was it obvious you had a huge crush on him? Maybe. You felt a little anxious for a moment, but then he just laughed and smiled at you, showing off those dimples that made you feel weak in the knees. 

You’ve been friends with him since childhood. The majority of said friendship you’ve spent being secretly in love with him—well—mostly in secret. The only one who didn’t seem to know was him. Everyone else in your friend group either knew or suspected something. You just hoped that San would never figure it out. Deep down, you knew he didn’t see you in that way. You two were just friends, and that had always been the case… and likely always would be. 

You’ve tried getting over your feelings for him, but it’s never worked. You couldn’t help it, everything about him was perfect to you. His laugh, his smile, his ability to be the most caring person in the world. He made you feel special and loved. It was a dangerous combination.

So, now that you were in your last year of college, you hoped that maybe seeing less of him would make it easier. Separate careers, separate lives, separated feelings. Unrequited love was painful and you were growing weary of it.

“That’s much better,” he nodded approvingly, leaving for a second to take his coat and beanie off and hang them by the front door.

When he came back you were able to get a good look at him. He was dressed in a fuzzy red sweater adorned with small, ornament-shaped, gold beads at the collar. It made him look so cozy, you just wanted to hug him and never let go. You also noticed his dark hair was freshly cut. He looked good. Too good.

He held a small box in his hands and presented it to you with a big smile that crinkled his eyes in a way that had him looking exactly like his cat. Sometimes you’d joke with him that Byeol was like his biological child and he would look playfully offended, “I don’t know what you’re joking about, she is my biological child.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach remembering that one time you went over to his house and, as soon as you walked in the door, he cheerfully said, “Byeol! Your mother is here, come say hi.”

You never quite asked him what he meant by that, just figured he was joking around. It's just one of the many things he's done that’s made it so difficult not to be in love with him.

“I hope you like it, it took me a while to find the perfect one,” he beamed, your insides felt like goo when he placed the box gently in your hands.

“Oh stop worrying I’m sure I’ll love it—” you felt your breath hitch in your throat as you opened the box.

Nestled inside was the most stunning necklace you could ever imagine. It was a pendant of your birthstone with two small diamonds on each side of it. The chain was delicately long and silver, and the clasp had a thoughtful little detail—a small charm engraved with your first initial.

“San…” you started, fanning your face when you felt your eyes getting misty, “This is beautiful. It must’ve cost you a fortune.”

He smiled at you, shrugging, “Sure, but you’re worth a million more.”

You lifted the necklace out of the box and he held his hand out, “May I?”

He wanted to put it on you. With a slight nod, you placed the necklace in his palm and as you turned around, he gently swept your hair aside. You did your best to stay still, feeling a warm flutter as his hands brushed against your neck, the cool metal making contact with your skin. You held your breath as he leaned in closer to fasten the clasp, and a shiver ran down your spine when you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

He lingered for a second longer than necessary before brushing your hair back in place. Turning around you thumbed the pendent between your fingers, admiring it, “Thank you, San. I love it.”

You went in to give him a hug, which he gladly accepted, wrapping his strong arms around you with a huge grin on his face. He was warm and the sweater felt as soft as you imagined.

Unbeknownst to you both, Wooyoung and Yunho shared knowing glances and pleased smirks.

You winced when he squeezed you tighter, feeling a jabbing pain on your side. He let you go with a worried look on his face and you reached into your pocket, grabbing the culprits in your hand. You rubbed at your side where the dice had poked you.

“What are those?” San asked with curiosity in his voice.

Shit. You grabbed them without thinking. You closed your hand and put it behind your back, looking flushed, “Uh—”

“It’s the Secret Santa gift I got for her,” Wooyoung grinned, draping his arm over San’s shoulders.

“We were supposed to exchange those later,” Yunho chided, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well, I figured she wouldn’t want everyone else to see them.”

“What did he give you?” San asked, he had a look of pure intrigue on his face.

“It’s nothing special. Just Woo playing a joke like usual,” you evaded.

“Oh no… they’re definitely special. Don’t be embarrassed, why don’t you just show them?” He playfully intoned, smile growing wider.

“Now you’ve got me curious,” Yunho joined, standing on the other side of San.

They were all looking at you expectantly and you shot a glare at Wooyoung, he just laughed in response. There was no way you could avoid showing them now. Huffing out an annoyed puff of air, you surrendered and opened your hand to show them the dice.

“Oh… They’re just dice. What’s so embarrassing about di—” San’s ears blushed red when he realized they weren’t just any old set of dice. He covered his mouth with his hand, just staring at them in wide-eyed amazement.

Yunho gawked at them, trying to stifle his laughter, “Oh my, I had no idea you were such a naughty girl… Who do you plan on using those with?”

“No one! I mean— I’m not! I don’t plan on using them at all,” you stammered. You looked at San hoping he might defend you, but he had his eyebrows knit together, clearly thinking about something.

“What a shame…” Wooyoung sighed, clicking his tongue, “I hoped they’d get some use. Oh well…”

The sound of the doorbell ringing caught everyone’s attention, and you quickly tucked the dice back into your pocket.

“Sounds like the others are here,” Yunho announced, going back to his task with the ice.

“Let’s get this party started shall we,” you said, hoping it would move the topic away from you.

“Let’s!” Wooyoung grinned, putting his arm around your shoulders, and leading you into the living room, with Yunho following after with an ice bucket in his hands. 

San slowly trailed behind, as such, no one noticed him watching you walk away with a sinful grin on his lips.

“Oh, it’s snowing!” you smiled, holding your hands out to catch snowflakes in your palms.

San watched you, like he was gazing at the sky and you were the shining stars in his eyes. When you glanced over at him, he quickly looked away, hoping you hadn’t caught him staring at you.

He’d known you since childhood, and had loved you since then; you were everything to him. You always made him laugh and smile, and he thought your soul was as beautiful as you were. A part of him thought that you might feel the same way towards him, but he never wanted to risk your friendship by asking you about it.

Sometimes he wondered if it was obvious that he was in love with you. All of his friends figured it out, yet somehow you remained blissfully unaware. He started to question why he hadn’t tried to pursue something more with you. Would you say yes if he asked? Wooyoung had been encouraging him to do so, and maybe he just finally might.

He viewed the dice as an opportunity, a little opening, and it sparked an idea in his mind.

You both walked leisurely down the sidewalk toward your house, with the snow falling heavily, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. You couldn't help but shiver, feeling a bit silly for not bundling up more. Sure, the walk from Yunho’s house to yours was only a few blocks, but you still wished you didn’t have to freeze on your way there.

San noticed how you were rubbing your hands together and blowing hot air on them to stay warm. With a grin, he shook his head and said, “You always seem to underdress for winter.”

You pouted at him, “My outfit was more important.”

He chuckled, “It’s a good thing you’ve got me, huh?”

He removed his scarf and gently wrapped it around you, taking a moment to move a stray strand of hair that had gotten caught on it. You looked up at him with your twinkling eyes, and he couldn't help but wonder if you'd always looked at him like this. It sent his heart racing.

He took one of your hands in his and then put them into his coat pocket, “Better?”

The scarf engulfed you, covering your mouth as you nodded. He saw your eyes crinkle and he could tell you were smiling.

He smiled back, and you both continued walking, enjoying the beauty of the snow around you.

“It sure is pretty though, don’t you think?” you remarked, taking in the sight of the large flakes drifting down gracefully to blanket every available surface. The moonlight made the white landscape brightly shimmer.

Your hair had caught a few, and San gently brushed them off while looking at you, “Very pretty…”

By the time you made it to your front door, it was turning into a snowstorm.

“It’s really coming down hard isn’t it?” he noted, looking at the snow quickly accumulating on the ground, “It’s going to be difficult to get a ride home.”

You looked at the road and knew that no one would want to drive in this weather. Your parents were most likely asleep by now, and you figured it would be fine if he stayed over for one night. You sure as hell weren’t going to let him walk home, he would freeze to death.

Your voice was muffled by the scarf, but he could still hear you offering, “You can sleep over here. The couch in the living room is comfy.”

“You sure?” he asked, feeling beyond grateful for the snow. He felt like the universe was bringing you together.

“Of course!” Your eyes crinkled again, revealing your hidden smile, “What’re friends for?”

What’re friends for… friends. Doubt poked at him. Could you ever be more than that?

He stepped inside after you, and the warmth of your home hit him like a heat wave.

“Oh god, it’s really hot, the heat must be cranked up,” you thought aloud, taking off your thin winter jacket, ear muffs, and San’s scarf, and placing them on the hooks by the door. 

Slipping your shoes off, you walked over to the thermostat and saw that it was blazing. You turned it down a few degrees, and fanned yourself, “What a drastic temperature change. It’s like a desert in here.”

San’s throat bobbed as he watched you slip off your sweater, revealing a thin tank top underneath. His eyes traveled down your neck, onto the skin of your chest, then down your arms—

“Are you going to take off your coat?” you asked him, furrowing your brows at his spaced-out expression, laughing airily.

“Huh? Oh! Uh— yeah,” he blinked a few times, looking away sheepishly, and took off his coat and hat. Taking his shoes off as well, he hung his coat next to yours and paused, staring at the pocket of your jacket.

You walked towards the living room, talking to him, “I’ll grab you some blankets, but if it stays this warm in here you might not need them.”

He reached inside the pocket of your jacket and grinned, holding the dice in his hand, mumbling to himself, “Bingo.”

“Do you need any extra pillows? I can grab some from my r—”

You paused, turning to look at him. He had a mischievous look on his face and he was holding something in his hands. Your eyes blew wide in realization.

“San…”

“Yes?”

“Whatcha got there?” you said nervously.

He shrugged, lazily rolling the dice back and forth between his palms, “Some dice.”

“Yes, I see that. What I meant is why do you have them?”

“Wanted to look at them again.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Am I not allowed?”

“No I didn’t say that—“

“What are you saying?” he grinned, tilting his head, eying you.

Your face felt hot and you were confused. What was he doing?

“I’m asking why you wanted to look at them again. Do you like them or something?” you said, crossing your arms, and walking toward him a bit.

“Don’t you?” he asked, playfully turning your question back to you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re useless, San.”

“Useless how?”

You scoffed, and walked up to him, trying to take the dice from his hands. He closed his fist around them and brought his hand high above his head, out of your reach. He repeated himself, drawing out the words, “Useless… how…?”

You jumped up trying to grab his closed fist, “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious,” he put plainly, keeping the dice out of your reach.

You huffed, giving up, and crossed your arms in front of you. It made your cleavage look even more pronounced and it caught San’s eye. He stared unabashedly, which you didn’t notice because you had your eyes tightly closed in annoyance. You took a deep breath in and sighed, “Fine.”

He grinned, bringing his arm down, but kept his hand closed.

“They’re useless because it’s a two-player game, San.”

“Well, duh, but how does that make them useless?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” you said with a disappointed expression on your face, “I. Am. Single.”

“True,” he nodded, and started walking toward the living room, “Doesn’t mean you’ll always be.”

He scrunched his nose at the small couch. If he slept on that his legs would hang off the side. He looked towards the open door of your room and headed toward it. You watched him with a look of confusion. What was he doing?

You followed after him, continuing with your conversation, “I guess so…”

“You don’t think you’ll get a boyfriend?” He asked, eyeing you again.

“No that’s not what I meant,” you clarified, watching him sit down in the chair in the corner of your room. He turned on the lamp sitting on the table next to him, illuminating the room in a faint, warm glow. It made his features stand out and you stared at him, gulping quietly.

“What do you mean then?” he placed the dice on the table and rested his head on his hand, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.

You walked fully into your room and sat on the edge of your bed, playing with a loose thread on your comforter, looking down at it. You weren’t quite sure what you meant. You always figured you’d end up dating someone, but you didn’t see the point in the dice. The only person you’ve ever imagined doing stuff like that with was—well—San.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t really see the point in the dice. I don’t think they’d work.”

“Oh, really?” he smirked. His idea was working.

“Really,” you said more confidently, “How can a couple of words on dice do anything?”

“There’s more than words here, love,” he pointed out.

Love? That was new. Your face got hot, and you were sure it looked red. You stammered out, “I j-just meant the other two. Not that one.”

“Yeah I guess this one you’d have to work up to,” he said, toying with the ten-sided die, “The other two are just for foreplay.”

You put your face in your hands, wondering how on earth you even got on this topic. Where was the starting point and how did you get all the way here?

“So, how about I prove you wrong?” he said nonchalantly, eyes boring into you.

You looked up at him, mouth agape, voice coming out quiet, “…what?”

“Well, you seem to think they don’t work. I say they do. Two-player game right?”

You felt heat shoot through your body, especially between your legs. What was he implying?

“I see two people here. One—” he pointed at himself, and then at you, “—two.”

“You want to play a game?” you asked, gaze locked on him as if that would let you read his mind.

“Whoever moans first loses,” he smirked, a glimmer of impishness in his eyes.

“W-what!?”

“What? They don’t work, right? You’ll have nothing to worry about then,” he taunted grabbing the two dice with words, and tossing them back and forth again, “What do you say? Will you play with me?”

You bit at your thumb, thinking about it. Of course, you wanted to play with him, but could you play his game and win? He watched you thinking, seeing that you were genuinely considering his offer.

“Okay,” you decided, sitting up straighter, trying to make yourself look less nervous.

“Yeah?” he raised his eyebrows, looking excited.

“Just with those two though,” you said pointing at the ones in his hands and then added, “My parents are sleeping, I don’t want to wake them.”

“Oh? Are you vocal?” he quipped, “The point of the game is not to moan. Remember?”

“N-no! I mean— I don’t know. I just wanted to clarify, okay? I don’t feel comfortable using the other one,” you quickly explained, looking away from him and at the poster of your favorite band on the wall.

His eyebrows came together in thought, and then it dawned on him. Slowly, he moved over to you, and you could feel the gentle weight of him as he settled down on the bed beside you. With a soft touch, he placed his hand on your shoulder, saying your name to get you to look at him.

When you made eye contact, you saw in his eyes he wasn’t messing with you right now, he was being genuine. He asked you quietly, “You’ve had sex before… right?”

Your face flushed and you looked at your comforter again. You mumbled in response, “Not exactly…”

“Not exactly?” He furrowed his brows, worried about what you meant.

You saw his worried expression and answered quickly, “Oh, no! I just mean I’ve only done like… oral and stuff.”

He felt relieved. Just the thought of anyone taking advantage of you had his blood boiling. 

He also felt extremely jealous at the thought of you consensually enjoying that kind of stuff with anyone that wasn’t him. He cleared his throat, responding, “Okay… good.”

“What about you?” you found yourself asking without thinking to try and lighten the mood. Why on earth did you ask that?

He chuckled lightly, “Um… a few times. It’s been a while though. I learned I’m not really a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

“You didn’t with your ex-girlfriend?”

You grimaced. Why do you keep asking things without thinking?

He looked away shyly, “No… That was back in high school and I wasn’t ready to do that then.”

“Oh… I see,” you nodded, not sure what to say now.

It was silent for a moment and then he added, “I agree with you though.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, questioning silently.

“I assumed we wouldn’t be using that other one. Just these two,” he clarified holding out his hands with the six-sided dice, “As long as you still want to play, that is.”

You smiled and nodded, “I do.”

Maybe it was the mini heart-to-heart, but you weren’t feeling as nervous anymore. Instead, you were excited and determined to win, “You’re going to lose, Sannie.”

“Is that so?” he smirked, moving all the way up on your bed, and crossing his legs, “Prove it.”

You bit on your lip and then mirrored his position, across from him. The dice resting on the comforter between you.

“So…” you started, “Who goes first?”

“Uh… I dunno. Rock paper scissors?” he suggested.

You laughed at him, “Really?”

“You got a better idea?”

You shook your head, looking at his pretty brown eyes, “No. Rock paper scissors works.”

You threw rock and he threw scissors. You won, “Ha!”

“Okay, okay, just roll,” he rolled his eyes, faintly smirking at you.

Picking up the dice, you shook them in your hand, feeling nervous about the combination you’d get.

The dice hit the comforter, reading: Touch Thigh.

You looked at the words and cleared your throat. You could work with this.

“I guess I have to take my pants off, huh?” he said casually, getting off the bed.

“Huh!?” you blurted, feeling hot again.

“My thigh is currently being covered by denim,” he explained simply.

“Yeah, but—”

“Calm down. I’m wearing underwear,” he teased, “Unless you preferred I wasn’t.”

You choked on nothing and coughed, “K-keep your underwear on!”

“Shh!” he reminded, putting his finger over his mouth, and lightly chuckling, “Are you trying to alert the whole house?”

You glanced over at your bedroom door, noticing it was still ajar, and decided to close it. San slipped off his jeans and laid them neatly on the chair in the corner. You couldn't help but chuckle a little at his need to keep things tidy.

He sat back on your bed, and you followed suit, thinking about how you should approach your turn. 

You decided to move his ankles, making him release his cross-legged pose. Slowly, you let one hand glide up his leg, enjoying the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips. When you reached his thigh, you gave it a gentle squeeze and locked eyes with him. He pressed his eyes shut but remained silent. Your touch was certainly having an effect on him, but it wasn’t quite enough to make him give in.

The featherlight touches on his thigh were exciting him so much he was worried his lower region might betray his mounting desire. That was the one thing he hadn’t quite considered the consequences of when suggesting this game, but he was willing to do anything if it meant having a chance with you. A part of him longed to just surrender, to explore just how far you would push boundaries, but this was only the first turn. His hand clenched the blanket beneath him, aching for you to bring this torture to an end.

Finally, you sighed, seeing that he wasn’t going to break and pulled away from him. He opened his eyes and your turn was up. You settled back in your spot, sitting on top of your legs, and watched as he rolled the dice in his large hands.

Bite Ear. Oh crap…

With your first boyfriend, you discovered that you had a sweet spot behind your ear, so keeping quiet was going to be a challenge. San knew this, and when he saw your expression he chuckled in a graveled tone, which sent the butterflies in your stomach fluttering down south.

“Nervous?”

“No…” you lied defiantly, pressing your thighs together.

“Mhmm,” he hummed before closing the gap between you.

His hands gently cupped your face, but he didn’t move immediately. Experimentally, he leaned in closer, his warm breath dancing near your ear and brushing against the side of your neck. The sensation made you squirm under his touch, but you maintained your composure.

He couldn’t help but grin before he pressed his soft lips against your skin. They glided smoothly from below your ear up to your lobe, where he teased lightly, before biting down on it with gentle nibbles. 

His breath sent tingles through your nerves. After all these years of longing for him, imagining what it would feel like to have his touch and his lips on you, you were finally getting to experience it. It was absolutely making your head spin. You wanted nothing more than to give in, to just melt under his warm touch and let him do whatever he wanted to you, but deep down, you knew this was just a game. Which you were determined to win. So, you stayed quiet, and eventually, he relented his turn in defeat.

You felt proud of yourself for not caving and grabbed the dice, shaking them in your hands with a smug smile on your lips. The dice landed on the comforter and you gasped.

Suck neck.

You heard his breath catch in his throat, and you looked at him with a sly look, “Nervous?”

He was now the one that lied out of defiance, looking away from you, and fiddling with the hem of his sweater, “Of course not.”

“Suuure,” you teased, closing the distance between you.

You lightly pushed the middle of his chest until he was leaning against the headboard, and then crawled up to settle yourself between one of his thighs. If you sat down you’d be straddling him. You looked into his eyes, and he gazed back at you with so much admiration it made your heart race even more than it already was. Had he ever looked at you this way before?

You carefully sat down on his thigh and moved your hands so that they were placed at the base of his neck. You whispered to him, “Is this okay?”

Nodding slowly and never breaking eye contact with you, he hummed in response.

You whispered again, more to yourself than to him, “Okay."

The scent of his cologne had faded through the day, but it was still strong enough you could smell it on his neck the closer you got, and it drew you in. You mumbled in a husky tone, “You always smell so good, Sannie.”

His voice was low and raspy, “Yeah?”

You gave a tiny nod and responded, “Mhm…”

Grazing his neck lightly with your teeth, you paid close attention to how his body reacted. You could feel his thigh tense beneath you, and once you started to suck a little bit on the side of his neck, his hands shot up to your waist and squeezed. He let out tiny little whines and breaths, but they weren’t quite enough to be considered a moan.

He screwed his eyes shut tightly and bit down on his lip to force silence upon himself. Your lips moving along his neck, the feel of your tongue, and your teeth nipping at him, had him quivering. He was going to break if you found a sensitive spot, and by the feel of things, you were getting close to one. He had to do something. Say something, or he was going to lose.

He spoke without thinking whatever came to his mind, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to do this with you.”

You froze in your spot, staying there for a moment before you pulled back in surprise. You looked back and forth between his eyes, but it couldn’t help you tell what he was thinking.

Your voice sounded small when you asked him, “You have?”

You both had been tiptoeing an invisible line in your friendship and just now he had stepped into uncharted territory. There was no going back now. 

His hands were still on your hips and he started to slowly rub circles on them. He knew you were worried he wasn’t being serious. He understood why, he liked to joke around, and he had never said anything like that to you before, so of course you were being wary.

He gave you a warm smile, “Of course, love—”

He said it again, love…

“—We’ve been friends for a long time…”

You were eye level with him, your faces just inches apart.

He kept going, “I’ve had the privilege of watching you become who you are now. This incredibly smart, funny, and undeniably sexy woman. I mean— I would have to be an insane man to not be extremely attracted you.”

He pulled you closer to him, looking at you in such a way… Was it love or lust? 

You could feel his nose brush yours and his breath tickled your skin. His voice was low, and just above a whisper, “Are you saying you’ve never thought about doing this with me before?”

“Sometimes,” you found yourself admitting, following him across the invisible line.

He smirked, “Only ‘sometimes’?”

The air was thick between you, charged with something new. You didn’t know what to do or say, so you landed on, “It’s your turn.”

You stayed in your spot on his thigh, and he grabbed the dice, rolling them in one hand, while his other hand remained on your waist.

You both watched, almost as if time slowed down, as the dice landed on the comforter, revealing the combination.

Kiss Lips.

He gently shifted your left leg from between his thighs, so that you were settled fully on him. The throbbing sensation between your legs intensified, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at how close you were to him.

His mouth was an inch away from yours and he asked quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

You quickly nodded, “Pleas—”

He wasted no time pressing his lips on yours. Nearly two decades of pent-up feelings for you were poured into his kiss. He wanted it to last forever, so he took his time, taking note of you. Your taste, your touch, your scent; you always smelled intoxicating to him and he knew then that he would never be able to kiss anyone but you. He didn’t want to kiss anyone else but you.

His grip on your waist tightened as his lips slotted with yours, heating you up by their touch. His lips were soft and silky, they were even better than you had ever imagined. He nipped at your bottom lip, making you moan. You could feel his grin on your skin.

“I win,” he said with a raspy voice before kissing you again.

You sighed into him, weaving your fingers into his hair. His locks tickled your fingers. Everything about this kiss lit your soul on fire. Between kisses, you conceded, “I don’t care.”

He pulled back from you with a smug look, “Don’t care? What happened to that competitive fire, love?”

You continued to kiss him, traveling down his jaw, feeling the slightest of stubble on your lips, to his neck, where you resumed your previous turn. Now it was you who grinned against him when you heard a small moan escape his lips, “I still feel like I won.”

He breathily asked, reveling in your ministrations, “Oh? How so?”

You reluctantly pulled back, enjoying the little whine he let out, and answered, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for nearly two decades, San.”

You realized then that the look in his eyes was love. How could you mistake it for anything else? Had he always looked at you this way and you just never noticed?

The smile on his face was radiant as he moved his hands from your waist to gently cup your face, “Please let me be your boyfriend.”

He kissed your right cheek, “Please.”

He kissed your left cheek, “Please…”

You giggled when he kissed your forehead, “Please, love.”

“You’re not joking… are you?” you asked, being wary out of habit. Even though, deep down you felt he wasn’t, that he had never been so serious about something in his life.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than to be yours,” he professed, “I love you.”

He loved you.

He. Loved. You.

Your head swam, and your eyes welled with tears. You kissed him as a single tear ran down your cheek and you whispered between tiny pecks, “I love you too, Sannie.”

He kissed you back with twice the passion. Pulling you even closer to him, he deepened the kiss as you both lost yourselves in the intoxicating sensation of each other’s touch. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you happily parted, granting him access into your mouth. He tasted like the cinnamon gum he chewed all the time, spicy and warm. You stayed like that for a while, exploring each other, lips swollen with lust and love. You adjusted a bit in his lap and could feel him pressing against you. He let out a tiny groan, which made you smirk.

“I want a rematch…” you said, pulling away from him to catch your breath.

His expression turned smug, “You’re just going to lose again.”

Your smirk grew and you shook your head, pointing at the third die, patiently waiting on the table, “… with that one.”

His smug look dropped, and you saw his throat bob as he gulped, “Game on.”

Series Masterlist Blog Masterlist

a/n: reblogs are greatly appreciated. It lets me know you all like my work <3. I also love to hear your thoughts! Tell me what your favorite part was :)

You found yourself wandering through the journey of your own grief, uncertain of your path. Some days, you felt a sense of normalcy, while other days left you aching, missing them with every fiber of your being. If it weren't for your friends, Yunho, Mingi, Yeri, Jongho, and Yeosang, you knew with no doubt it would feel as though three of you had died that day instead of two. Your sister and father were the very heart of your family, and your favorite people in the world. In recent months you had started to feel like yourself again little by little, but, the anniversary tomorrow loomed over you, leaving you uncertain about how you would feel when the day finally arrived.

“Ya! Earth to Boo!” Yunho was shaking your shoulder while waving his hand in front of your face.

“H-huh? What?” you blinked a couple of times, feeling yourself snapping back into reality when you heard your nickname—Boo.

It's what your sister called you when you were a kid because you wore your hair in adorable little pigtails every day. She thought it made you look just like the little girl from Monsters Inc. It also felt especially fitting for you since you had a deep love for all things spooky. She was the only one who called you that, but then Yunho started some time ago, and it’s just stuck.

“I said what movie do you think we should watch? Mingi picked out a few options and we don’t know which one to choose,” he reiterated, tilting his head, the look of concern slowly fading from his face.

“Oh ummm…” you watched as Mingi held out three choices; Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and The Evil Dead.

It was Friday night, which meant you three were going to spend the weekend watching movies together. You answered, “Let’s go… Craven.”

“Elm Street it is!” he approved, smiling at you. His light, almost completely washed out, pink hair practically glowed in the dim room as he went to go turn on the TV.

When the screen flickered to life, the news channel was already playing. San stepped into the living room, slipping on his deputy hat, getting ready to head out. It was his day off, so you couldn't help but wonder why he was in uniform, but before you could ask, your question was answered by the broadcast playing in the background.

“—We're here to break into the current news broadcast with an urgent and heart-wrenching story. Twenty-one-year-old college student, Irene Bae, was tragically found dead in her home this evening, and the cause has been determined as homicide. We now turn to our reporter on the scene at the house.”

Everyone’s attention had been completely captivated. San stood behind the couch, taking a moment to observe as the news feed changed.

“—Jung Wooyoung, reporting live. It’s an unsettling day here in Woodsboro, as it appears we have a menacing killer on the loose in our community. A doorbell security camera outside the victim’s residence captured the chilling moment when the assailant broke in and fled shortly afterward.

"This masked figure wore a Halloween costume mask that many online are already dubbing ‘The Ghostface’. The investigation is ongoing and our sheriff has issued a town-wide curfew, now in effect. It’s strongly advised that everyone stay indoors, taking the time to double-check that every door and window is securely locked, until the morning. Stay safe out there everyone, from channel six—”

San took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. He looked at you, Mingi, and Yunho, nodding while he thought. The sound of the TV faded into the background as you focused on what he was about to say. He checked his watch and then insisted, “Make sure you three stay inside tonight.” 

Speaking directly to you he added, “Mom is away on a business trip, so I don’t want to leave you home alone. These two can stay over,” he pointed at them before continuing, “I’ve got to get down to the station. It’ll be a long night and I won’t be back probably until tomorrow. Make sure you lock the doors, okay?”

He headed towards the front door and opened it, peeking his head back inside right before he left to say, “Oh I almost forgot— My room is a mess, so stay out.”

The door clicked shut and the fading wail of the squad car sirens marked his departure. The news resumed its usual programming, but you and the two boys were left in stunned silence, grappling with the reality of situation in his absence.

“Irene Bae…” you murmured, the first stage of grief hitting you, “I-I have a class with her… I just saw her today…”

Yunho gently pulled you into a warm, comforting embrace, his hand resting softly on the top of your head. He assumed that you and Irene most likely weren’t friends, yet the name poked a familiar ache within you since it was the same as your sister’s. He gently began to stroke the top of your head, giving you a moment to process. Having been your best friend since grade school, he understood just how to bring you comfort in times like this.

Mingi was sitting on the hardwood floor, still situated next to the TV, and fidgeting with the open dvd case in his hands. He had a look of worry on his face, feeling helpless at the moment.

“Are you going to be okay?” Yunho asked and you nodded, pulling away from him as you straightened up. His hand moved to your shoulder and his thumb rubbed along it in an attempt to soothe.

“Yeah… It’s just a shock is all,” you sighed, feeling your grief skip to the last stage.

“Do you still want to watch the movie?” he asked, titling his head.

“Mhmm!” you smiled weakly, attempting to dismiss the weight of the night’s news, holding onto the hope that your brother and the rest of Woodsboro’s police would catch the suspect soon.

Mingi smiled and put the movie into the DVD player, changing the input through the remote. His black, rounded glasses reflected the blue screen of the TV before it switched over. He shuffled back to the couch, sitting next to you, and then handed you the remote so that you could be in control. He was sweet like that, and it made your face heat up when your hand brushed against his as you took it from him.

Mingi had always been sweet to you ever since he moved in next door a few years ago. It only took a couple of days for him to slip effortlessly into your life as a friend like he had been there since childhood. When you found out he was attending the same college as you, you immediately introduced him to the rest of your friend group. He clicked well with them all and since then, he and Yunho had become practically inseparable. It was always you three, together, all the time now. Your weak smile had become genuine as you looked at them both before pressing play.

As the familiar scenes of the movie played across the screen, you found yourself drifting away once more, lost in a stream of unsettling thoughts. Woodsboro was a safe town, where nothing truly bad had ever happened—except for the accident. Yet, deep within, a prickling unease began to take root. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the anniversary tomorrow, coinciding with the events of the night, left you feeling on edge. Everything felt eerily familiar, and that was what troubled you the most.

You fidgeted in your spot as your mind spiraled down a rabbit hole of what-ifs. Mingi, sitting closest to you, could sense your worrying and scooted in closer, breaking you from your trance. He gently took one of your hands in both of his, rubbing the back of it, which soothed you… to some extent…

Your racing thoughts just shifted their focus to him and your heart started beating faster. You just knew that if you could catch a glimpse of yourself, your cheeks would be burning a deep shade of red, and if you had looked over at him you would see that his face was the same. Yunho glanced over, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, fully aware of how both of you were feeling inside.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket broke you out of the moment and with your free hand, you pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number, so you declined.

Returning your attention back to the movie, you felt Mingi shift his hand so that his fingers were now interlaced with yours.

Then the phone buzzed again.

You furrowed your brows and declined.

Then again. The same unknown number flashed on the screen and you declined, becoming slightly annoyed.

You paused the movie, grabbing the attention of Yunho and Mingi. A hush settled around you for a moment, but soon enough, it buzzed again. Mingi’s hand squeezed yours nervously, and this time, worry pricked at you, urging you to pick it up. Maybe, just maybe, it was something important.

You sighed before hitting the answer button, “Hello?”

“Hello, Y/N,” a deep, bone-chilling voice on the other side of the receiver responded. Already you were extremely creeped out.

“Hi… Who is this?” you questioned, sitting up straight and letting go of Mingi’s hand.

“You tell me?” he teased. It made the hairs on your arms stand up.

“Well, um. I have no idea,” you answered truthfully, not recognizing the voice at all.

You got up and moved to the middle of the living room, not sure what you were doing or what you should do. You raked your fingers through your hair and began to slowly pace back and forth.

“Scary night isn’t it? With the murder and all, it’s like… right out of a horror novel or something,” the man chuckled lowly, making your heart sink to your stomach. Yet, what he said gave you a pretty good idea of who was speaking.

You laughed nervously, “Jongho? You gave yourself away. Are you calling from the school?”

You set the phone to speaker, allowing Mingi and Yunho to listen in on the conversation. They leaned in, captivated by the voice coming from the small speaker of your phone.

“Do you like scary stories, Y/N?” the man continued, ignoring your question.

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Jongho. It’s really cool, sexy,” you deflected.

“Let’s talk, you and I. Let’s talk about fear. What’s your favorite scary story?”

“Oh come on you know I’m more of a movie person, always have been,” you deadpanned.

“Ahhh, but no movie could compare to a well-written book, now could it?” his voice sneered.

“Sure… but can a book compare to the visuals of a well-directed film? I’m insulted,” you laughed, grossly oversimplifying your reasoning.

“Are you alone in the house?” the man inquired.

“Jongho that’s so unoriginal, I’m disappointed in you,” you taunted, earning a couple of quiet snickers from Mingi and Yunho.

“Maybe that’s because I’m not Jongho…”

“Alright then, Yeosang?”

At that moment the front door handle rattled, startling you and Mingi. You glanced at Yunho, searching for a hint of understanding in his eyes, but he shrugged. Mingi's face had drained of color, he swallowed hard, nervously fidgeting with his hands. He loved scary movies, except when faced with reality, he was far more of a scaredy cat than he ever let on. Out of the three of you, Yunho was the only one who never got scared. He was always brave and confident, which you kind of envied.

As the door opened, two people walked in, talking and laughing with each other. When they stepped into the living room you saw who it was, Jongho and Yeosang, back from their book club meeting.

“Nope. Try again, Y/N…”

You felt a chilling wave crash over your entire body, goosebumps prickling your skin. You put your finger over your mouth, signaling for the two boys who just arrived to stay quiet.

“So, who are you?” you asked quietly.

“The question isn’t who am I? It’s where am I?” the man laughed sinisterly.

“S-so where are you,” you asked, voice shaking.

“I’m not interrupting your movie night, am I? Nightmare on Elm Street… interesting pick. And oh? Looks like we have a couple more guests,” he sighed, “As if three wasn’t enough of a crowd already. Perhaps I’ll come back some other time, Y/N. Until then.”

Just like that, the call was done. The picture of your sister and father on your lock screen stared at you until it went black.

“Hey there? Hi! Um… what the hell was that?” Jongho questioned, eyebrows raised as far as they could go.

Your breath felt short and the sensation of a panic attack snuck up on you. Trembling, you started to take deep breaths to ground yourself. In and out. In and out. With each exhale, the feeling of dread began to dwindle away.

Mingi reached out his hand toward you, a little invitation for you to take it. You sat back on the couch, trying to remain as calm as possible, and allowed him to take your hand once more. He squeezed it tightly, hoping it would bring comfort to not just you, but also himself.

Yunho seeing that you were in no place to talk right now took it upon himself to answer, “Boo just got a creepy phone call.”

“Yeah, I deduced that much. What did he want?” Jongho said as he walked fully into the living room to sit down in a chair. Yeosang locked the front door and then followed suit.

“Nothing really? He asked her what kind of scary stories she liked…” Yunho explained, scratching the back of his neck, still confused about what the phone call was about or the reason behind it.

“It was really freaky too. He said it like, Let’s talk, you and I. Let’s talk about fear. What’s your favorite scary story?” Mingi recalled, doing a bad impression of the creepy voice, making you let out a short, quiet laugh.

“Scary stories? Like books?” Yeosang chimed in, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear. You nodded at him in response.

“Yeah,” you started, “He had mentioned that the murder earlier was like something out of a horror novel.”

“Let’s talk, you and I. Let’s talk about fear?”Jongho furrowed is brow, biting at his thumb. He always did that when he was thinking, “What in the Steven King is happening here?”

“Stephen King?” Yunho raised an eyebrow.

“Mhmm! That line, it’s a quote from his 1978 novel, Night Shift,” Yeosang explained.

“I thought that it was a prank call from you guys, but then when you walked in…” you trailed off just above a whisper.

“Of course, that’s how it happened. Standard horror literature stuff,” Jongho nodded, stopping the nervous biting of his thumb.

“The ‘prank call’ trope,” Yeosang agreed, nodding his head at Jongho.

“What?” Mingi questioned. You glanced over at him, and you could see that the color had returned to his face. He appeared much less anxious now.

You noticed you also felt a lot better. His presence always made you feel at ease and you hoped that maybe you did the same for him.

“There are certain tropes that the majority of horror novels follow. It’s a sort of fear formula,” Jongho started.

“Usually the book will start off with something simple, like a prank call or a past event that’s haunting the protagonist,” Yeosang finished.

These two were the undeniable leaders of their book club, which was clear to everyone. They had a habit of becoming so deeply engrossed in the world of fiction, that they would apply narratives into their understanding of real life.

While you usually didn't take their musings too seriously, something about what Yeosang had just said resonated with you. So, you figured you’d play along with their theories for the time being, “You’re suggesting that we’re in a horror book right now?”

“More or less. This is real life, but books can be used as an aid to refer to. There are plenty of tropes we could encounter,” Jongho suggested.

“Like what?” Yunho said before you, as if he could read your mind.

“Hmmm, maybe the ‘easily definable character’ trope. You know… like archetypes or base personalities, it’s annoying because it doesn’t allow for much character growth.” Jongho pursed his lips, “Like for example, San is the cop, Mingi is the neighbor boy, Yeosang and I are the nerds, etcetera…”

“Ok? What else?” you coaxed.

“The ‘protagonist has a traumatic past’ trope…” Yeosang said cautiously and you chuckled softly, feeling like it was a bit on the nose.

“The ‘humans can be monsters too’ trope. I don’t expect to see Frankenstein’s monster in our story, but someone like Patrick Bateman? Sure,” Jongho continued, “Then a least favorite of mine is the ‘minority character dies first’ trope… I really hope our writer subverts that one.”

“Jongho, we’re all minorities here,” Yunho pointed out.

“Exactly my point,” he grinned, “That way no one dies.”

“There’s the ‘splitting up’ trope,” Yeosang went on, “and the ‘It was all a dream’ trope.”

“And the ‘open doors and windows’ trope.”

“The ‘feeling of being watched’ trope.”

“Also the ‘I’ll be right back’ trope. Don’t ever say those words,” Jongho cautioned, “Just don’t.”

“There’s the ‘one bed’ trope,” Yeosang mentioned.

“No…” Jongho let out a stifled laugh, “Yeo, that’s not horror.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Listing things off too quickly, mixing up genres here,” Yeosang corrected, scratching the back of his head.

“There’s the ‘technology never works’ trope. It’s a dumb one though, easily avoided by making sure your phone is charged and has cell service,” Jongho added, “And then there’s the worst one of all…”

“Which is?” Mingi gulped.

“The ‘unhappy ending’ trope,” he sighed, looking directly at you, “Anyone and everyone can die. Including the protagonist.”

The room fell silent. You shifted in your seat, feeling a cold sweat form.

“Those are just a few though, and they really only apply to standard literature. All trope rules kind of go out the window when it comes to fan fiction,” he finished.

“Are you suggesting we’re in the middle of fan-fucking-fiction? What kind of person would write this?” you cringed.

“Who knows? Maybe in some alternate universe, we’re a world-famous boy idol group with a horror fanatic fan,” he smirked at the possibility, “On the bright side though, I don’t think we’re in a creepypasta. That’s always a plus.”

“What’s that?” You asked, a confused look plastered on your face.

“Um…” Yeosang started laughing, “If you don’t know already… genuinely, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay then…” you brushed that off, “How does all this apply to what’s happening?”

“I’m not really sure. Maybe it might help you to know what to avoid,” Jongho advised, “But then again, maybe it was just a prank call, nothing more.”

“He knew what movie we were watching,” Mingi pointed out, “That means he was watching us.”

“True,” Jongho remembered, then asked, “But it could just be someone you know pulling a cruel joke? Maybe someone that doesn’t like you?”

You had an idea of one person it could be, but he was never the joking type.

“Do you think it could be Hongjoong?” Yunho wondered, looking at you.

“Her ex?” Yeosang asked, uncertain since he was the newest member of your friend group.

He became one of your closest friends after transferring schools less than a year ago, right after your breakup. His kind heart was something you needed most then.

“I don’t see why he would? I haven’t talked to him since our breakup after the accident,” you confessed.

“Y/N?” Mingi tightly squeezed your hand, his gaze searching yours, silently asking if you were okay to talk about it. 

You returned the gesture, nodding gently and whispering, “It’s fine.”

“I guess he didn’t know how to have a girlfriend going through grief, so he ended things, and I haven’t spoken to him since,” you explained, “I’ve run into him a few times at school, and he’s tried reaching out a lot, but I just wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. He may be a pest, but Hongjoong is not really the type to play jokes.”

“What if it’s not a joke?” Yunho implied, absentmindedly playing with his bottom lip.

The atmosphere in the room became unbearably heavy. You didn’t want to think of that possibility. He may not be one to play pranks, but was he the type to kill? You desperately hoped not, yet the suspicion was there.

“I know I really have nothing to base this suspicion on, but I have a feeling it was the Ghostface killer,” you guessed, “When he was talking about the murder from tonight... I don't know... he almost sounded like he was taking credit.”

"Why would he go after you?" Yeosang wondered.

You shrugged, not having any ideas. Why would he go after you?

Jongho nodded, playing into your theory, “Well, there is always one way to find out if it's Hongjoong or not…”

“He’ll probably be at Seonghwa’s party tomorrow,” Yeosang realized, picking up on Jongho’s idea, “Are you still gonna go?”

“Hwa will understand if you want to stay home,” Yunho assured, caring more about your safety.

“No,” you started, “I’m going to go. I’d rather be there with a bunch of people than here alone. You remember what he said 'Perhaps I’ll come back some other time, Y/N. Until then.' No, thank you. I will not be here to allow that to happen.”

“Are you sure? We can stay here with you,” Mingi suggested. His puppy dog eyes were pleading, and it took all the willpower you had to resist giving in to him. Those eyes of his were a newfound weakness of yours and you’d hate to see the person those eyes belonged to get hurt, which gave you the strength to stand by your decision.

“And run the risk of putting you in danger too?” you looked at him with such worry, “I won’t let you do that. I’m going. At least if Hongjoong is there it means we can keep an eye on him. I'll unsilence my phone, and if I get another call, we’ll be able to figure out if it was really him or not.”

All the guys simultaneously nodded their heads, understanding that you were right. Having Hongjoong in your sights meant taking a possible suspect off the list.

“You’re right.”

“When am I ever not?” you joked. Wanting to shift away from the current topic.

“Touché,” Jongho smiled, then he suggested, “How about we all finish the movie before Yeo and I have to go home?”

“Please,” you smirked, leaning back onto the couch and hitting play on the TV once more, “It was just getting to my favorite part.”

You locked the front door as it clicked shut behind Jongho and Yeosang. Then, almost compulsively, you circled the house, checking each door and window not once, but twice, making sure that they were all shut and locked. Once you were satisfied you turned on the house alarm, finally feeling enough at ease to go to sleep. Which is when it dawned on you, that there was only one available bed in the house, and three of you.

At first, Mingi offered for Yunho to stay over at his home since it was just next door, but he knew that you wouldn’t want to be left alone in your house. So a sleepover it was. Who knew that Yeosang would accidentally be right?

Standing in your room, you found yourself pondering how things would work. With your girlfriends, sleepovers were always a breeze. Your full-size bed accommodated two of them easily. But tonight was different. Mingi and Yunho were much bigger, and you realized that only one of them would fit comfortably.

When you were dating Hongjoong, he was never allowed to stay over, so the idea of sharing your bed with a boy was new to you, and even though you knew they were friends who wouldn’t make it awkward, you decided it would be simpler—and perhaps a little more comfortable—to make big, cozy pallets for them on your carpeted floor.

You stepped out of your room and made your way to the linen closet at the end of the hall, pulling out a spare comforter and pillows. Then, you meticulously layered the comforter and extra blankets from your bed, until they were soft enough for them to lay on. You ignored San’s demand, and ventured into his messy room, to find some sleep clothes for them.

“Thanks,” Mingi smiled warmly as you handed him a large grey t-shirt and sweatpants. Your hands lingered for a moment, brushing against each other as he accepted them from you. He left for the bathroom to change, leaving you and Yunho alone.

“I saw that,” he grinned and you looked at him confused.

“Saw what?” you questioned as you handed him one of San’s hoodies and a pair of large cotton shorts, watching as he began to change into them right in front of you. After all these years of friendship, you were so comfortable with each other that it was just normal.

Yunho laughed airily, pulling his shirt off, “Come on now, don’t act like you don’t know.”

“No seriously, Yun, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded as he pulled the hoodie over his head, messing up his fluffy brown hair. He smoothed it out by running his fingers through it a couple of times.

“Seriously?” he shot you a sly look, searching for any hint of deception, but realized you were actually clueless, so he figured he’d just say it, “You and Mingi look awfully close…”

It clicked with you what he meant and your face almost immediately felt hot, “Oh…”

“I noticed the hand holding all night. What’s going on between you?” he asked, swiftly slipping on the shorts.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, chewing at your bottom lip, while changing into pajamas you got from your dresser.

“You dunno? You like him right?” he pried. He was glad to see you acting like your old self again, you seemed happier.

“Yeah…” you answered quietly and he grinned at you.

“I knew it! For how long?”

“I’m not really sure, I think I’ve just recently realized what I was feeling. It was probably about a month-ish ago when I started seeing him differently?” your eyes were squinting while you thought about the timeline of your crush, “I always saw him as just a friend, and then something just switched I guess.”

“Mhmm, you guess?” he teased. You hid the blush that crept up on your face behind your hands.

Sure, you may have always found him attractive, and sure, you also maybe might’ve had the tiniest crush on Mingi ever since you first met; but the truth was, you only came to realize it not long ago, and Yunho certainly didn't need to know any of that.

“Stop messing with me, okay. It’s new,” you groaned.

“Nope, sorry. As your best friend it’s my right,” he gave you a big smile, placing his hands underneath his chin, tilting his head, and batting his eyelashes at you.

“Do you think he likes me too?” you bit at your thumb, suspecting you already knew the answer but wanted to hear it confirmed.

He nodded, “Well, considering that he—”

The question you had wanted to hear the answer to for months was cut short when the door to your room slowly creaked open. Both you and Yunho shifted your attention, fully anticipating Mingi to step inside. Except as the door swung wide, all that met your gaze was an empty, echoing hallway and worry pooling in your chest.

“Mingi?” you called out, feeling nervous as you were met with silence.

Cautiously, you stepped towards your door, the air around you feeling colder. The hairs all over your body stood up, anticipating your fight-or-flight response to kick in. You stuck your head out of your room and looked around, seeing that the door to the bathroom was still closed and light streamed from underneath it. It was safe to assume that Mingi was still in there.

Curious about why the door opened on its own, your ears picked up on a low, humming sound. You shifted your attention toward the direction of the noise and saw that the air vent in the ceiling had turned on. You rationalized that it must be why the door opened as you watched a stray cobweb softly blow in the direction of your room.

Your phone rang.

You felt your heart drop. Yunho’s eyes were full of worry and he slowly reached for your phone on the nightstand. A look of relief washed over his face as he saw the caller ID, “It’s just your mom.”

“You can answer it,” you breathed out, clutching at your chest, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. He accepted the call and put it on speaker.

“Hi, Mom!” he bubbled, a smile on his face.

“Yunho! Sweetheart, how are you? Where’s Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you chimed.

“I heard the news and wanted to check on you. Are you doing ok?”

You didn’t know how to explain the phone call to her, so you lied through your teeth, “Yes! All good here, we’re about to go to sleep soon. Yunho is staying over because of the curfew.”

“Good, good. Glad you’re safe. I’ll let you go, I have to call your brother, alright. Sleep well sweetie, love you!” she chirped before she hung up.

“Didn’t want to mention Mingi, huh?” he smirked.

“Hush,” you gave him a sharp look, pointing a finger at him.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to scream, jumping as you turned around in your spot by the door.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mingi put his hands up in front of himself, in an attempt to apologize.

You took a deep breath in, “I don’t think I can take any more scares today.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “What did I miss?”

You lay in bed, eyes shut tight, desperately trying to drift off into sleep but failing miserably. Glancing over at the clock, you saw it was already three in the morning. Your mouth felt parched, and you turned your gaze to the empty glass waiting on your nightstand. With a soft sigh, you sat up, pushing the covers aside, and gently placed your feet on the ground, careful to not disturb the peaceful Mingi sleeping nearby. You reached for the glass and tiptoed toward the door, opening it slowly to avoid any creaks. It let out a tiny noise, causing Yunho to groan softly in his sleep. You watched as he stirred a little before settling again. You finally exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and stepped quietly out of your room, making your way toward the kitchen.

After finishing the first glass of water, you refilled it again and sipped slowly while looking out the window. The kitchen was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in, tonight was a full moon. You let out a small laugh, thinking that it was fitting, and then leaned against the kitchen counter as you continued to drink. The cool night breeze felt nice, you thought, sighing contently. Then you froze, mid-sip, and slowly turned your head in the direction of the wind. The white linen curtains billowed faintly in front of the open window. You felt a chill run down your spine and gulped down the remaining water, a sense of unease coursing through you as you recalled how you had meticulously checked every single window, ensuring they were locked, and turned on the alarm.

You made your way over to the window to investigate, feeling strangely calm given the circumstances. Listening intently for any sign of danger, all you could hear was the soothing serenade of crickets and the gentle breeze rustling through the trees. The full moon bathed everything in a silvery light, reassuring you that nothing was lurking outside. With a deep breath, you decided to close the window and search the house before heading back upstairs. As you went to grab the handle on the window to pull it back in, a hand shot up and grabbed your arm, yanking you out into the unknown. You tumbled and fell, a sensation that stretched on until you finally hit the ground with a soft thud.

The ground was black and hard beneath you. As you looked around, you found you were sitting in the middle of a road. The moon hung high above the trees, yet everything was wrapped in an oddly unsettling darkness. A single spot on the road was illuminated, where a girl stood. She had long, flowing black hair and a face that radiated beauty. She seemed familiar, yet you couldn't quite place where you’d seen her before. You stood up and began walking toward her, and as you drew closer, your clouded memory cleared. It was your sister, Irene. She had opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out; and when you tried to talk to her, it felt as if she couldn’t hear you at all. Suddenly, she glanced to her right, and an expression of pure horror painted her face. 

Following her gaze you saw a trail of scattered car parts that led you to a ditch, and you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Instantly you felt hot tears stream down your face. You covered your mouth and fell to your knees. It was your father’s car, overturned, the roof crumpled in like a flimsy tin can. It was their accident.

You tried to move toward it, desperate to help, but stumbled backward, pain shooting through you as you collided with something. Your sister had appeared before you, except she was transformed in a terrifying way. Her neck was clearly broken, and a terrible gash marred the delicate skin on the side of her face. She was screaming—a raw, blood-curdling scream that pierced your soul, forcing you to cover your ears and curl into a tight ball. You rocked back and forth, helpless and terrified, consumed by chaos you couldn’t escape. Then you felt a large hand on your shoulder, causing the turmoil you felt to cease. Turning to look, you saw that the hand belonged to your father. He seemed unchanged, just like the last time you saw him, radiating a warmth you thought was lost forever. He smiled tenderly at you, and then in a voice that sounded like it was coming from a muffled speaker he recalled his last words to you, “We’re almost home, sweetie. See you soon.”

You jolted awake in a cold sweat, sitting up in your bed, heart racing and breath heavy. As your surroundings came into focus, you realized, with a mix of relief and lingering heartache, that you were still in your room and it had merely been a dream. Tears welled up in your eyes, and despite your attempt to hold them back, they spilled over.

Softly, you sobbed, your body trembling from the echo of the nightmare. Next to you, on the floor, Mingi was lying awake. He had a hard time sleeping in new places, especially when his thoughts were running rampant.

He whispered, so as to not startle you or wake up Yunho, “Boo, hey… what happened?”

You looked over quickly, not expecting him to be awake. Your heart did a little flip hearing him use your nickname, and you responded, sniffling, “I… had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in a comforting tone.

You took a calming breath and wiped away your tears, pondering his offer, “Um… I don’t know.”

He got up and sat on the edge of your bed, continuing in a soft voice, “It’s alright if you don’t want to, but I find that talking about a nightmare tends to make me feel better, so maybe it might help.”

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nodded slowly, considering that it was worth trying. With a soft breath, you began to open up, sharing every detail that felt significant to you.

“…It just felt so real,” you finished, feeling much better now that you’ve let it all out.

Mingi understood that you much preferred warm, comforting hugs instead of words. So, that’s exactly what he did. He leaned forward with his arms open wide, and you instantly melted into the heat of his embrace.

You stayed like that for a while before whispering, “Could you stay up here with me until I go to sleep?”

He pulled back a bit from your hug to look at you with his loving eyes and nodded. He settled down beside you, while patiently letting you get comfortable, and then he slid his arm beneath your neck as you draped your arm over him, lying your head against his chest like it was a pillow.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before resting his head gently above yours, making your heart flutter. You heard the slow rhythm of his heartbeat quicken, thinking it was cute that it made him nervous. Slowly, he began to stroke your hair, each caress lulling you deeper into a more peaceful sleep. Before he could go back to his spot on the floor, he ended up drifting off as well, mumbling quietly in a sleepy haze, “Goodnight, Boo.”

The morning light streamed in through the blinds of your bedroom window, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. You felt the gentle movement of breathing beneath you, and the smell of faded cologne filled your senses. You sighed contently and smiled in your half-awake state, nuzzling your face into the warm chest it laid upon.

“What’s all this?” San smirked, leaning on the frame of the door to your room, taking a bite of the glazed donut in his hand.

Groggily you opened your eyes, the morning light falling right into them causing you to squint. You looked at your smug brother and then over at Mingi, who was still sleeping soundly. The digital clock on your bedside table let you know that it was already ten o’clock.

“You guys sure look cozy,” he commented, mouth half full of donut.

“San… why are you here?” you groaned softly, hating rude awakenings.

“I got back about ten minutes ago, and Yunho had come into the kitchen a bit after,” you looked over to see an empty floor and folded blankets, San continued with his teasing, “Said you two were still up here… asleep together. I had to see for myself. Took a couple pictures.”

“Ew, what’s wrong with you?” you furrowed your brows as you sat up, throwing a pillow at your annoying brother. He dodged it easily and took another bite out of his donut.

All the movement caused Mingi to wake up, dazedly murmuring, “Mmm what’s going on?”

“Oh, sleeping beauty’s awake,” San playfully scoffed, then went on, “Mom called me last night, saying that Yunho was staying over. Huh? That’s strange, seems like you forgot to mention a certain someone…”

“You wouldn’t…” you glared at him.

Your mother was pretty lenient with you and San since you were adults, but she had rules, and the only boy she trusted, aside from her biological son, was her other “son”, Yunho. If she found out about this, you were worried what she would do to you… and Mingi.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell her. Wouldn’t want to get princess over there in trouble. We want Mom to keep liking him,” he smirked and then finished his donut, cheekily adding, “The pictures are for you. I already sent them. You’re welcome.”

He began to walk away, but then quickly popped back in to say, “Oh— and your bestie made breakfast. Hurry before it gets cold.”

San left you in silence and Mingi was now wide awake, sitting up against the headboard, with a hint of blush on his face. He cleared his throat and put on his glasses that he had left on your nightstand, chuckling, “Interesting wakeup call… What’s this about pictures?”

Wanting to move on from the topic of the pictures that San most definitely took and also most definitely sent to you, you quickly blurted, dismissively, “Ha! Yeah… San and his antics. I swear it’s always something with him. I’m sure he wasn’t being serious. Let’s just go eat…”

You both shuffled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, the warm aroma of chocolate chip pancakes filled the air. At the dining table, you noticed Yunho handing San a small folded piece of paper, which he placed into his front pocket while they talked about something you couldn’t quite make out.

After placing a good amount of food on your plate, you made your way to the table and settled into your seat, picking up on the topic— the killer was still on the loose.

“We did permitter sweeps all through town for most of the night. Found nothing...” San sighed.

Did you really think all your troubles would just vanish in a single night? Not quite, yet deep down, you had always been a hopeful soul. So, the unsettling news that the homicidal maniac was still lurking around, fixated on stalking you, certainly did nothing to soothe your worried mind. It appeared your plan to keep a close watch over Hongjoong was still very much in play for tonight.

“...Even with that reporter glued to my side, asking me questions and attempting to help,” San shook his head, taking a drink from his coffee cup.

“What reporter?” Mingi asked, sitting down next to you with a plate in hand.

“The one on the TV last night, Jung…uh, Jung Wooyoung, I think was his name,” he answered; the way he said it sounded fake like he was pretending to not remember it. You furrowed your brows at that.

“What’s he trying to help for?” you wondered, taking a bite from your stack of pancakes.

“No clue, but you know how reporters are like dogs sniffing out their next story,” he implied, “I’m sure he thinks that if he sticks close by he’ll beat everyone else to the punch.”

The doorbell rang and everyone turned their heads to look, the window by the front door allowed you to see who it was, “Speak of the devil…”

San got up to answer the door, “Wooyoung! What brings you here?”

“San… Hi!,” he looked past him and saw everyone at the table eating then, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he apologized, “Sorry for interrupting breakfast.”

“No worries, come on in,” he smiled, genuinely, which you took note of.

“Uh… actually I thought I’d talk to you outside. I think I’ve dug up some information that you may want to hear,” Wooyoung divulged, as he raked his fingers through his raven-colored hair, and it fell back in the most flattering way. His visuals just screamed ‘made for television’.

San glanced back at you all, a silent signal that he needed to step out for a moment. As the front door clicked shut, you immediately got up to listen in. The voices drifted through, muffled yet discernible enough for you to piece together their conversation.

“What’d you find out?” San asked.

“Well… The mask that the suspect wears. I couldn’t seem to find it anywhere online and it’s not something you’d find at your local party store either,” Wooyoung started, “So I did a bit of research and found a small costume shop about twenty miles from here selling the exact same mask. Turns out he sold one recently and I asked the clerk who bought it, but he said he couldn’t remember.”

“How does that help us?” San questioned.

“Patience… I was getting to it,” he teased lightly, “The clerk said the guy didn’t pay with cash, which means the receipt of the purchase has the culprit’s credit card number.”

“We can run a trace through the bank—” San realized.

“— to find out who’s behind the Ghostface,” Wooyoung finished the statement, grinning.

San looked elated, glad Wooyoung’s forced involvement in the case had proved to be helpful, “Alright, I’m going to need to get the clerk’s statement and see if he recalls the guy’s face. We can make a copy of the receipt there, and I’ll send it to the station.”

San went to open the door and you quickly sat back in your seat at the table before he did. He popped his head in to announce, “I’m going to head out for a while to follow up on a lead.”

“You’ve got something?” you asked innocently, like you didn’t already know.

“Maybe… We can’t be completely sure yet,” he added, trying not to get your hopes up. He was about to close the door when he remembered what your plans were later. Stepping fully inside he asked, “You guys aren’t still going to that party are you?”

“We are,” Yunho answered, shuffling around the remnants of food on his plate with his fork.

San furrowed his brows and warned, “The town curfew is still in effect past sundown. I want you guys to stay here.”

“The party starts at six, we will be back before then,” you lied, trying to reassure him.

He paused to look at you, scanning your face, knowing damn well that you were lying, “I mean it, Y/N. Don’t put yourself in danger for a stupid party at Seonghwa’s house. The guy’s a rich asshole anyway, and you already know Hongjoong will be there. Why bother going?”

“First of all, Hwa isn’t an asshole. Secondly, I have other friends going as well, San. I can’t avoid them just because of my idiot ex,” you reasoned, “Besides, safety in numbers right? I doubt that murderer would do something with such a big audience. Hwa’s house also has security cameras everywhere, it's a safe place.”

San thought over what you were saying, and nodded reluctantly, “Fine, but back before sundown. Got it?”

“Promise,” you said, with your fingers crossed behind your back.

He gave you one last suspicious look and then nodded at Yunho before leaving, the door clicked behind him once more.

“You’re such a liar…” Yunho grinned, quietly wondering if you noticed their silent exchange.

“What San doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” You explained.

Yunho just shook his head and smiled, going back to playing with the food on his plate.

“But will it hurt you?” Mingi worried.

You gave him an uncertain look because the truth was, “I don’t know, but it’s a risk I’m willing to—”

You were interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

It was face up on the table, drawing the curious gazes of them both as the unknown number from last night graced the screen. A tightness gripped your throat, and with trembling fingers, you reached out to answer. You hesitated for just a second before switching the phone to speaker mode.

“Hello…” you said, trying to keep your voice level.

The sinister voice on the other end cackled lowly, “Hello, Y/N. Long time no speak.”

The way he spoke prickled at your skin, it was almost as if you could see the twisted grin behind the voice. You were disgusted by him, “What do you want?”

“Right question, wrong time… I won’t divulge quite yet,” he drawled, taking enjoyment from not answering you.

You were sick of his game, and felt annoyed, “Then why call?”

“Thought I’d keep you on your toes, make sure you haven’t forgotten about little ol’ me,” he laughed maniacally.

“You’re sick…” Mingi spat.

“Oh? Do I have an audience? I thought your little boyfriend would have gone home last night, Y/N. Mommy won’t be happy to find out he stayed over… tsk tsk,” he threatened, “I wouldn’t want to put a damper on her business trip.”

“How do you—” you started.

“How do I know? Is that what you were going to say? Come on, Y/N, we’re smarter than this. Of course, I know. I know everything about you, sweet,” he said with venom laced in his voice, “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you for a long time.”

You felt nauseous, wondering for how long this freak had been planning this, “Leave my family out of this.”

“Or what? Hmm?” he poked, his low voice rattling on, “Where there is no imagination, there is no horror. Face it, Sherlock, you have no way of stopping me, but I guess I’ll leave your mother alone… for now.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, “Good, let’s keep this between us.”

The man let out a gasp of excitement, “I can’t wait to continue our little game, Y/N… hopefully in person. Until then.”

The line went dead. He hung up on you once again, and a surge of overwhelming anger coursed through you. How could he have the audacity to threaten to get your mother involved?

Before your phone screen went dark, you caught a glimpse of the date, and you remembered what today was. It’s officially been one full year. You thought the reminder would bring you down, but instead, it just fueled your fire.

“What do you want to do?” Yunho asked you, seeing the visible anger on your face.

“This is my story, not his,” you declared, standing up from your seat, “I want to take back control. Let’s go confront our little antagonist, shall we?”

Mingi and Yunho both grinned at you, while also feeling nervous about what the night had in store for you all.

Sitting in the backseat, you looked out the window, lost in thought as Yunho drove while Mingi sat beside you. The car pulled up to your friend’s house, and she emerged from the side door. With a nervous smile, she opened the door to the front passenger seat and slid in, “Are you guys sure you still want to go to this party? I don’t know, with this curfew and everything… I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Yeri, if you want to stay home you can. No one is forcing you to go,” You laughed lightly.

“No, no, I need to get out of that house for a while. I was just checking if you all were still up for this,” She clarified.

“Ok then, close the door,” You smiled, “Let’s get going.”

Seonghwa's house sat on the outskirts of town, and the drive there felt agonizingly slow as nervousness began to settle in. If it really was Hongjoong, then the distance could be an issue—getting the police there quickly would be practically impossible.

“How are you doing, Yeri?” Yunho asked her, knowing she was friends with the girl who was killed, Irene Bae.

She had been sitting silent for most of the drive, “Um, I’m okay I think. It’s weird actually, I don’t really feel much right now… I guess this party is an excuse for me to get away from my parents. They’ve been hovering around me like I’m going to break or something.”

He hummed in response and then Yunho looked in the rearview mirror at you. You two had a sort of telepathic ability to talk to each other with just your eyes, You think she’s going to be okay?

Can’t be sure quite yet. I guess we’ll know once we get there, You looked back.

He nodded and focused back on the road, you all were a couple of minutes away now. Mingi leaned over to you, whispering, “What will you do if it is him?”

You scanned his face, a deep worry etched across it. Once again, those pleading puppy eyes were looking at you, yearning for your answer. Honestly, you didn’t know what you were going to do. The only plan you had discussed was to call San and hope that Hongjoong didn’t make a run for it. You sighed, “What do you think we should do, Min?”

“You know what I think,” He frowned.

It’s true, you did. Mingi had made it clear he didn’t like the idea of using you like live bait. He thought it was risky and stupid, but he also didn’t know any better ideas, “We should have told San already.”

You chewed on your lip, feeling doubtful about your current plan, but you were certain of one thing, “If it is him, then he would know of San’s involvement. It’s strange how he knows things. He was like that when we were dating, except back then I found it more impressive if anything. Now it just creeps me out.”

“Just like the stalker... he said he knew everything about you,” He recalled.

“Mhmm… but it’s just not enough proof, unfortunately,” you exasperated, wishing you didn’t have to feel this way at all.

You wanted to go to this party just for the sake of going to a party and hanging out with your friends, not under the guise of catching a possible murder suspect red-handed.

The car slowly came to a stop, and Yunho parked on the street along with several other cars. It seemed as though you were among the last few to arrive. You got out and as you glanced a few cars down, your gaze landed on a sleek, black SUV—Hongjoong’s car. He was already here.

You felt a pair of hands land on your shoulder, causing you to jump. Quickly you turned around, ready to fight whoever it was, but then eased up when you saw who it was, Jongho chuckled, “Ooo, someone’s on edge.”

He stood to your left, and you both gazed at the grand house before you. It was a beautifully refurbished Victorian mansion, truly your dream home, and of course, it belonged to rich boy Seonghwa. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a hint of jealousy as you realized he had almost everything you had ever wished for.

Jongho clicked his tongue and shook his head, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

You gave him a confused look, “Hmm?”

“Shakespeare. The Tempest,” You heard another voice on your right, Yeosang grinned at you.

“Of course…” You mumbled.

“Looks like the gang’s all here,” Mingi said, closing the car door, Yunho and Yeri close behind. They stopped to see what you guys were staring at.

“Why are we all standing just looking at the house?” Yeri laughed, “Come on, let’s go in.”

As she walked toward the front door you checked in with the others, “Remember, when we get in there just act normal. This won’t work if we’re not.”

They all nodded at you and Yeosang wondered, “Do we have a code word? Ya know if he goes missing or whatnot.”

“No? I don’t really think we need one. ‘He’s missing’ works just fine,” You say as you make your way towards the door, Mingi and Yunho following behind you.

Yeosang slumped and Jongho patted his back, “It’s okay, I thought a code word would have been cool too, Yeo.”

“Right! You understand…” He sighed, both of them heading to catch up with you three, Yeri already inside and out of sight.

Walking through the threshold of the front door sent a wave of dread coursing through you. You weren’t much a of reader, but a quote from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein had popped into your head, There is something at work in my soul which I do not understand. Something felt off, but the vibrant sounds of laughter, conversions, and music distracted you, drowning out your concerns.

Right by the entrance, you caught sight of the host, wearing a shiny leather jacket with his long black hair effortlessly slicked back, and a pair of luxurious sunglasses perched casually on the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes at him wearing them inside, though you had to admit: he looked good. He spotted you and eagerly made his way over, wrapping you in an excited hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around.

“Y/N! You came!” He grinned his grip on you tight. You were taken aback by this out-of-character affection from him, but he was your friend, so you couldn’t help but smile and laugh in response.

He set you down and then greeted the guys with an array of fist bumps and side hugs, returning to his usual self, “Glad you guys could make it!”

“Have you seen Yeri? She came with us,” You asked, scanning the room but not seeing her.

“Yeri? She’s really here?” Seonghwa's eyes lit up, looking around. Everyone suspected he had a thing for her, the only person who didn’t know seemed to be Yeri, “I didn’t even see her come in. If you find her send her my way, kay?”

“Sure thing, Hwa,” You flashed a grin and made your way into the kitchen to grab a drink, the guys trailing behind you like they always did. The kitchen buzzed with familiar faces from school—people you recognized but had never really gotten to know.

“Do you think we should go find Yeri?” Yunho worried, “I don’t know how I feel about splitting up like this. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

As you reached for a cup from the stack neatly arranged on the counter, you filled it with a bubbly, sugary soda, and Yeosang nodded in agreement, “I’ve also got a bad feeling.”

“Since when did you guys become psychics, hmm?” Jongho laughed, filling his cup from the keg in the corner of the kitchen.

You took a long drink before speaking, “Yeri is a big girl. She’s smart and can fend for herself. I’m not worried about her and I’m sure Hwa will find her before us. She’ll be just fine with him.”

“Alrighty then, shall we begin ‘Operation: Stake Out’?” Mingi asked, a big grin on his face.

The words that just came out of his mouth were dorkier than ever, but you couldn’t help but laugh and smile at him, “Sure, Min. Commence ‘Operation: Stake Out’. I’m gonna take a lap around the house, come with me?”

He nodded eagerly and followed you as you departed from the kitchen heading towards the living room.

Yeosang grabbed a cup, filling it from the keg with a fiery energy, and quickly downed the drink he had just poured, rolling his eyes, "Sure, she doesn’t like code names, but ‘Operation: Stake Out’? That’s perfectly fine...”

Yunho just laughed as he headed in the opposite direction of you, towards the dining room, “Jongho, come with me. We’re going to find Yeri. Yeo, stay close to them.”

Yeosang refilled his cup and followed suit, “Yeah, yeah…”

You ran into a few familiar faces, chatting with them to be friendly and maintain appearances. As you stepped out of the living room, that’s when you caught sight of him, in the parlor— Hongjoong. He was talking to some poor, naive girl who was blissfully unaware of the monster she was talking to, killer or not.

At first glance, you immediately noticed how different he looked. His bleach-blonde hair looked freshly done, and he wore glasses. It was off-putting to see, especially since he always boasted about his better-than-perfect vision.

Something about his new appearance was oddly familiar too, making you look at Mingi, who’s had blonde-ish hair and glasses ever since you’ve known him. It's not like he had staked a claim on blonde hair and impaired vision, but it was just strange to see Hongjoong look so different.

When you looked back towards Hongjoong he had already noticed you were there, his piercing gaze zeroed onto you, as if he instinctively sensed he was being watched. The girl he was talking to followed his gaze to you and then turned back to him. Knowing that her conversation time was up, she sulked away to a different room, her disappointment palpable. He never once glanced away from you to watch her leave.

This was it, you felt in your bones— showtime.

Mingi and Yeosang offered you comforting looks as you turned to them, and you nodded that you were going to be fine. The only time Hongjoong looked away from you was to watch as they sat down in a couple of chairs by the corner of the room, keeping their distance, but still staying close. He shifted his focus quickly back to you after he saw the look that Mingi gave you. It was a look he was all too familiar with and one he hadn’t used himself since your breakup.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that really Y/N?” Hongjoong mused sarcastically, a very playful grin pulling at the edge of his mouth.

You noted, that despite his new look, he seemed to be acting like his usual self. You made your way over to him, every fiber in your being internally screaming for you to run away.

You gave him a showy bow and then leaned against the empty, cold fireplace he was standing next to, “Of course it’s me. Are your new glasses not working or are they just for show?”

“Glasses?” He gave you a quizzical look before reaching up to find he was wearing them. He took them off and hung them off the collar of his shirt, breathily chuckling, “Oh! I didn’t know I was still wearing these. I use them when I write, they’re supposed to help reduce eye strain. Not sure if they really work, though.”

“You’re still writing?” You asked knowing about his dream of becoming a published author. The memory of when he used to be in the book club lingered in your mind, fueling your suspicions just a little more, “I thought you wanted to take a break?”

“How could I? I’m in the midst of a trilogy series right now. I just wrapped up the second novel,” He grinned from ear to ear.

He looked genuinely happy; you hadn’t witnessed this side of him in ages. It reminded you of all the good times you shared with him, and deep down, there was even a lingering part of you that missed him like this—excited and vibrant.

“What genre?” You asked, finding you were becoming genuinely interested in the conversation, and the initial plan for being here in the first place slowly faded into the back of your mind. He always seemed to have this effect on you, at least, until he answered.

“Horror,” He said, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but was eerily familiar. The color drained from your face and you were almost positive that it was him now. Any part of you that missed him was long gone in the blink of an eye, “It’s a mystery, slasher series.”

“Sounds fascinating,” You mindlessly replied, with a bit too much bitterness in your voice, but you caught your slip-up too late and Hongjoong furrowed his brow.

“You’re the one who asked,” He bit back, quickly dropping his friendly facade, “I was trying to be nice, Y/N.”

You knew that you should just apologize and maintain a neutral stance, yet you found yourself unable to shake off the rising emotions within you. He had this uncanny ability to twist your feelings, making you experience whatever he desired, and it almost felt like he was deliberately baiting you into a confrontation, knowing just how effortlessly you would succumb to his tricks.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Joong. You’re not nice by nature, so why try?” You spat, mentally cursing yourself.

He smirked at the nickname, then hissed, “I was doing pretty well up until now! You sure have a knack for messing things up with us!”

Mingi got up from his seat as soon as Hongjoong raised his voice, he was by your side now, “Boo, you’ve got an audience. Don’t let him get to you…”

Looking around, you noticed that everyone in the room had their eyes fixed on you and Hongjoong, whispering softly amongst themselves. It put you more on edge than you already were and you instinctively grabbed Mingi’s hand, a gesture that certainly didn’t escape Hongjoong's attention.

He taunted, “Awww, Boo…got a new boyfriend already to protect you? How sweet.”

Mingi stepped in front of you, towering over Hongjoong, glaring down at him, “Yeah. She does.”

You knew exactly what Hongjoong was trying to do. He believed that by saying that, you would be drawn back in to fight him yourself. But Mingi’s presence was so grounding that it completely nullified his hold on you. He gave you the backbone you desperately needed to be the bigger person.

With a deep breath, you found your voice and replied, “I’m sorry you feel that I always mess things up between us. But just remember, I'm not the one who ended it. That... that was all you.”

Mingi leaned close to you, whispering, “Come on… let’s get out of here for now, okay?”

He gently pulled you away from your heartless ex and his searing gaze, that wicked smirk trailing after you until you slipped out of sight. Mingi led you to an empty bedroom upstairs, his grasp lingering for a moment before he released your hand.

He moved to the center of the room, burying his face in his hands as a heavy sigh escaped him, muttering, “He sure is a hoot.”

You hadn’t fully grasped the words that Mingi declared until this very moment, and you found yourself staring at him, a warm blush spreading across your face and your heart racing with every beat.

Softly, you breathed out his name, “Mingi?”

He turned to look at you, with a look that answered your question, but you still needed to hear him say it out loud.

He hummed quietly in response, so you ventured to ask, “What did you mean?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t understand what you were referring to and you stayed silent for a moment, feeling your words catch in your throat.

Slowly, he moved towards you, like a magnet being drawn to its other half, and while brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he gently inquired, “What do you want to know?”

The warmth from his touch had never been so intoxicating. It only lasted for a second, but the feeling of his hand grazing the side of your face had sent tingles radiating through your whole body. You sighed contently, struggling to resist the urge to reach for his hand as it fell back to his side.

He noticed your reaction, a hint of confusion in his eyes as he spoke, “Boo?”

You still hadn’t gotten used to hearing him use your nickname, and it just made you want to melt. It sounded so good when he used it. You locked your eyes onto his and asked again, this time being clearer, “What did you mean by what you said to him?”

He thought for a second, then his words from earlier echoed inside his head— Yeah. She does. His face flushed a deep red, and he turned away from you, immediately feeling very bashful and anxious. He had practically confessed and he knew there was no point in denying it.

You moved so that you could face him and he whispered so softly in response that you almost didn’t hear him, “Do you really not know?”

His eyes looked at you in such a way you couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything else. Your heart felt as though it was on the verge of bursting from your chest, and you didn’t even realize the words had escaped your lips until they were already spoken, “No, I do. I guess I’ve always known that you liked me back—”

“B-back!?” His eyes widened in disbelief, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, utterly charmed by his obliviousness. He fumbled over his words, “You mean that— wait… does that mean that you…?”

He cupped your face with his hands, so he could look at you better, you just giggled at him, “Of course, Min. How could I not? You mean so much to me.”

If someone walked in right now they would probably mistake Mingi for an excited puppy. He bounced with unrestrained joy, still cupping your face, unintentionally making your head nod along with him. He had never felt this happy before, and he couldn’t believe he had no idea you felt the same. All you could do was just smile at him and wait for him to calm back down.

He stopped bouncing and moved closer to you, his thumbs now caressing your face. Without thinking, you placed one hand on his waist while the other softly cupped his cheek. The tension that hung in the air between you two was so thick, that it felt as if it might spill out of the room itself. He was so close to your face, just inches away, and you were sure that he was about to kiss you. His eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips. Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest in the best way as you glanced at his plump, kissable lips, which he was nervously biting. You closed your eyes in anticipation and just as the reality of your situation slipped completely from your mind is when you were jolted back— the shrilling sound of your phone ringing echoed through the room.

The tension had shattered, instantly being replaced with dread. You felt almost nauseous taking your phone out of your pocket. It was him; the unknown number on your screen taunting you to pick up.

Mingi immediately let go of your face, grabbed your hand, and headed for the door, all he said was, “Answer it.”

With a shaky breath you accepted the call and lifted the phone to your ear, saying once again, this time with disdain, “Hello.”

“Hello to you too, sweet,” The chilling voice chuckled.

Mingi nearly threw the door open, quickly bringing you both back down the stairs and to the parlor, to confront him.

He wasn’t there, so you asked, “Where did you go?”

“Oh?” You could almost hear his wicked smile appear, “Whatever do you mean?”

Frantically, Mingi sped you through the house, practically dragging you along as he searched for him, and you hissed, “Cut the crap, Hongjoong. I know it’s—”

As you turned into the downstairs hallway, Mingi opened a door to a room, to find that Hongjoong was there, in a very compromising position with the girl from earlier. She shrieked, quickly covering herself, and he looked up to see who had interrupted him; scoffing, he glared, “Find your own room, why don’t you?”

You swiftly closed the door, disgusted by what you just witnessed, and a chilling laughter emitted from the speaker of your phone, “Hongjoong? Hmmm, the cold-hearted ex with a penchant for writing horror? He really hits the mark, doesn’t he? I have to commend you for your detective work, Y/N. It almost pains me to tell you that you’re wrong… but by the sound of it, it seems you just figured that out for yourself.”

Mingi let go of your hand and leaned against the wall of the hallway, taking a deep breath in as he slid down to sit, rubbing his face with his palms; chuckling quietly and feeling defeated, he groaned, “Oh god… I’m going to have such a hard time unseeing that.”

“So who are you?” You asked, knowing that you wouldn’t get an answer, but unsure of what else to say.

“You’re so persistent! That’s what I love about you, Y/N. Though, Love will have its sacrifices, and there are No sacrifices without blood. You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t you worry,” And just like that, the call was over.

It ended differently than usual, leaving you with an uneasy feeling. There was no expected ‘Until then,’ which made you wonder if he truly meant it would be soon. You felt lightheaded, and slid down the wall across from Mingi, sitting down with your knees to your chest. A cold sweat swept through your body, sending shivers and goosebumps racing across your skin.

“I thought it was him too,” Mingi sighed deeply, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands.

You anxiously chewed on your bottom lip, wracking your brain for any clues for who it could be, but coming up utterly blank and feeling lost. It had to be someone you knew, didn’t it? You had believed that, but now doubt flooded your mind.

What if, all this time, it was just some stranger you brushed past at school, who, for some twisted reason, chose to obsess over you?  It could be anyone, and the idea that he might have been lurking just behind you, watching you closely without you ever knowing, made your stomach churn. What if he was watching you now?

Your breath caught in your throat, a paralyzing fear held you back from looking around, and tears pricked at the edge of your eyes. Every nerve in your body felt ablaze, and as panic began to grip you, your heart raced wildly, leaving your breath shallow and uneven. If you dared to glance over, would you find him, or was this sensation just a cruel trick your mind had conjured up?

You felt mad, spiraling down a dark mental whirlpool, unable to differentiate between reality and the illusions that fear lured you into believing. Mingi heard the change in your breathing, his eyes locking onto you, concern etched deeply on his face. He moved towards you and once again cupped your face in his hands, gently wiping his thumbs across the tears you didn’t notice were streaming down your cheeks.

You whispered, sounding nearly crazed, “Is he watching me? Is he? It feels like it.”

Mingi could see the mental turmoil swirling within you behind the welled tears in your eyes. It truly pained him to see you so terrified, and he felt helpless not knowing what he could do to rid you of this trouble. He looked around searching for the watchful eyes of your lurking shadow, except he was met with an empty hallway, no one in sight.

Pulling you into a hug, he cooed, “Hey, you’re safe right now, alright? I promise you, I won’t let him hurt you.”

Both of you were still sitting on the floor of the hallway, arms wrapped tightly around each other. You lingered like that for a while, feeling your panic slowly ebb away as you savored his warm embrace. Even when your heart rate returned to normal and your breathing began to settle, he didn’t let go. His hands glided gently along your back, offering comfort in the only way he knew how as if trying to chase away the shadow that followed you.

“What’s going on here?”

You pulled away from Mingi, being greeted by Yeri’s wide, doe-like eyes, sparkling with confusion and surprise. It seemed Yunho and Jongho were successful in finding her since they were right behind, with eyebrows raised and smirks wide.

The air around you was delightfully warm, like a heated blanket in the middle of a snowstorm. It paired well with the golden rays of the setting sun. September was drawing to a close, and the leaves of the trees showed faint hints of their upcoming transformation; as you stood on the porch, looking out at the view before you, you felt a sliver of peace. However, you were beginning to accept that your moments of peace were all too fleeting these days.

Yeri broke you from your momentary bliss, her mouth was agape from the whole ordeal you recalled for her, and she had stayed silent for a while until she took a deep breath in, exhaling her frustration, “So let me get this straight. You came here… fully believing… that your ex-boyfriend… who you knew would be here… was the psycho stalker that keeps threatening you? And your brother… who is a cop… the proper authority for a situation like this… has no clue?”

“…yes?” You said timidly, knowing all too well the storm your sweet-looking friend was about to unleash on you.

“Y/N!!!” She snapped, a look of extreme bewilderment on her face. She didn’t want to lose her cool, so reeling herself back, she took another long deep breath in before quietly exhaling, “Y/N… do you realize how fucking stupid that sounds?”

“Well! I was wrong anyway! It’s not him,” You defended, head down and eyes trained on the creaking planks of the porch beneath you.

“That’s not the point!” She yelled, not caring that Mingi, who was anxiously fidgeting in an old rocking chair across from you, or Yunho and Jongho, who were leaning on the railing, heard, “You willingly put yourself in a situation like this when you knew… you knew what happened yesterday!”

Her voice began to wobble, giving way to the actual reason she was upset, “You knew what this guy did to Irene! So why? Why, Y/N? Why would you put yourself in danger like this?”

You just stared at her, with a small frown on your face, feeling the sensation of tears building within you. You turned your gaze away, painfully aware that if you caught sight of her teary eyes, your own would surely follow.

Every word she spoke rang true, and she pressed on, “And you’re not just putting yourself in danger! All of us… the people you care about… your friends are now in the middle of this!”

“I—” You had started, but she wouldn’t let you get a word in. She held up one finger in front of herself and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Yunho grimaced out of sympathy. He stood cautiously next to Mingi, knowing as well just how ireful Yeri can get when she wants to be. Yeosang had heard the yelling and made his way outside to see what the fuss was about.

Her tone had become softer, much like the sunlight slowly fading behind the horizon, leaving subtle darkness in its path, “I’m not saying that you need to go through this alone. I would much rather be in danger with you than be safe without you. But I just wish you had told me sooner! That way you wouldn’t have Holmes and Watson over there—” She pointed towards Jongho and Yeosang, who both had expressions of offense on their faces, “—feeding you ridiculous fantasies about horror stories! This is real life, Y/N, and your real-life solution is to pick up the phone and call San to tell him the truth!”

“No need,” a stern voice called out from the front of the porch. You knew exactly who that voice belonged to, you didn’t have to look at him to know it was your brother, “I’m already here.”

You looked up from the floor, very slowly, feeling like a child who just got scolded by her father. He may be your older brother by only two years, but when his serious cop side emerged, you knew better than to disobey him.

As you made eye contact, his sharp eyes bore into you with a look that reflected frustration more than anger, and you shrunk into the tiniest version of yourself, the part that realized with extreme clarity how stupid you had been.

He looked at your friends who were watching intently and requested, “Could you guys give us a moment?”

Before they left, you quietly told Yeri, “Hwa was asking for you, have you seen him yet?”

Her eyes lit up and she shook her head, smiling, “Not yet! I’ll go find him.”

Quickly she retreated back inside the house once more and the rest of them followed suit, giving San the space he needed to talk to you. Mingi lingered by the front door, caught in a tug-o-war between staying close to you or remaining on San’s good side. He begrudgingly opted for the latter and walked in, finding some comfort in the fact you would be safe with him.

After watching them leave, you looked back at your brother and noticed a certain reporter trailing behind him. Wooyoung stayed outside, but he kept his distance, leaning on the porch railing.

“You promised you would be home before dark! What in the actual hell do you think you are doing?” He barked, and you flinched, hating the angry side of him.

“I— I,” You weren’t even sure anymore what you were doing. Earlier your plan seemed so clear like it was the only possible solution, but now, “I don’t know…”

Your brother’s demeanor changed drastically, he didn’t like being the authority figure in your family. That role was always reserved for your father, and now that he was gone from your lives, he found himself stepping into big shoes he wasn’t ready, nor wanted, to fill.

After taking a deep breath, he spoke quieter, seeing how small you had become in his presence, “Yes, you do. You never do something without thinking first.”

That was not the response you were expecting. At all. Usually, when you two didn’t see eye to eye, you never reached common ground, constantly forced to agree to disagree.

You unfurled from yourself a bit, allowing some of your fighting personality to come back, “I thought I did.”

He sighed, seeing your friends standing near the window facing you out of the corner of his eye. He caught sight of Yunho, which prompted him to steer the conversation, “I know about the phone call.”

You gave him a shocked look, trying to wrap your head around how he pieced it together, when it hit you, the exchange during breakfast, “Yunho…”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “He gave me the number, asking if I could compare it to any calls Irene Bae received before she died. It matched the last one… but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling,” You revealed, it was a thought you and Yunho must’ve shared.

You met the gaze of your best friend through the window, giving him a glare that translated to: You betrayed my trust for the greater good, so I’ll forgive you… for now… He gave you a sheepish grin, but you knew he wasn’t sorry one bit.

You turned back to San and titled your head, asking, “Is that why you’re here?”

“There’s been another murder,” Wooyoung revealed, stepping away from the railing and into the conversation, “We found the clerk from the costume shop with a dagger in his back… a prop dagger actually. It would seem that Ghostface replaced the actual murder weapon with it.”

“Our lead from earlier turned out to be a dead end… literally. The card used to buy the masks was reported stolen,” San followed up, “So we’re back to square one.”

“So then why are you here?” You asked again.

“I’m here to shut the party down,” San explained, “With two murders now and a culprit still on the loose— as deputy, I couldn’t allow this college kegger, à la alcohol poisoning, to continue.”

You nodded your head, understanding he was right, and he went in to break the news to everyone inside, which left you by yourself with Wooyoung. You looked over at the reporter who had watched San go in. His face unlocked a memory you hadn’t thought of in a while.

“I remember you,” You said to him, and he looked over, taken aback by the unexpected revelation.

“Really?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” You started, “You’re the reporter that covered my family’s accident…”

“Yeah…,” He thought back to a year ago.

“I remember seeing you at the funeral, in the very back of the church,” You recalled the memory from that day, still vivid in your mind as if it happened yesterday, “Seemed like you felt out of place… scared to be there or let yourself be seen.”

He nodded, remembering exactly how he felt then, “I wanted to be there… but I didn’t want to intrude. I thought I did that already just by reporting the story…”

You took a deep breath, thinking about the broadcast from the day. It was only minutes after receiving the call from the police department that the news had played on the TV in the living room. You can still recall exactly what you felt when his face came on the screen, breaking the tragic news to the community of Woodsboro— nothing. You felt nothing at all, everything within you was completely numb. You lightly scoffed at your memory, thinking it was funny you could even remember that day at all.

“It was the hardest story I’ve ever had to cover,” He added, “I knew San… from school, just in passing. Ya know I admired him… and that day— I just can’t imagine how hard it was for h— your whole family.”

You nodded, voice slightly wobbling, “You know it happened one year ago today, exactly.”

He raised his eyebrows, “It’s been that long already… god.”

“Yeah,” You wiped a stray tear, gathering yourself, “It was really hard on us all, but we’ve really come a long way since then. I didn’t expect to be so okay today, but I am… somehow.”

“It’s not that shocking really,” He commented.

You raised one brow at that and he explained, “You’re a lot stronger than you seem to give yourself credit for. Plus with everything else going on, I’d bet it’s been taking up a lot of your thinking space,” He tapped at your forehead, softly smiling.

It was strange, you had only been speaking to him for a couple of minutes, yet he already felt like someone you could be comfortable around. You returned the smile, “I want to thank you.”

“For?” He tilted his head, wondering.

“Being there at the funeral. For showing up,” You answered, “And you covered the story in a respectful manner… so thanks. I appreciate it and I’d bet San does too, if he remembers it was you.”

“Mmm… I don’t think he does,” He lightly laughed, smiling warmly, “But it’s the least I could do, for him— f-for you all.”

San came back out, grabbing Wooyoung’s attention immediately. You just smiled, grateful your brother had a friend like him. He looked at you two and raised one eyebrow, “What’re you talking about.”

“The weather,” You lied, “It’s been nice these past few days. Just wish we could enjoy it.”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” San agreed, believing your bluff immediately. You looked over at Wooyoung and gave him a small wink.

“Definitely,” He added.

Then you watched as disappointed college students trickled out of the house in clusters. Some were more drunk than others to care about what was even going on. Eventually, the only people left outside were you three and your friends, who had lingered behind as everyone else departed.

San grinned, feeling satisfied he got everyone to leave, and then he looked over at you, “Let’s go home.”

“I came here with Yunho—”

“And you’re going back with me. Don’t argue,” He interjected, voice stern again.

“Fine,” You said through a gritted smile, “At least let me say bye.”

“Sure, we’ll be in the car,” He replied before walking off. Wooyoung gave you a tight-lipped smirk before following after him.

The turn of shame. Oh God. It was one thing to have your parents be strict in front of your friends, but your brother? It’s just a different kind of embarrassing. With a grimace, you turned towards them, looking at each of the boys, and offered small waves and byes.

Jongho and Yeosang mirrored your grimace, their little waves sympathetic. Yunho was struggling to hold back a laugh, typical of him to make fun of you at a time like this. Suppressing a smile, you rolled your eyes at him and moved on. Mingi—oh, Mingi—he simply gazed at you, those deep eyes brimming with unspoken feelings. You knew you couldn’t let yourself linger on him for too long if you wanted to remain on San’s good side.

So you gave him a heartfelt bye, and then, as you went to say bye to her, you realized, “Where’s Yeri? Did she not come outside?”

“Don’t you think you were being harsh?” Wooyoung asked as he got into the passenger seat of San’s squad car.

San turned the engine on and dialed the volume of the radio down, “Did you think that was?”

“A bit,” Wooyoung shrugged, “Her friends were right there, watching you be a strict cop, older brother.”

San sighed, “Right… I guess that was maybe a bit harsh.”

“I know it’s not really my place at all,” Wooyoung started, “But why couldn’t she just get a ride back with her friend? I mean he’s already dropping her other— uh…friend— off next door to your place—”

“I’d just feel safer if she comes back with us. That way I don’t have to worry about when she will get back or…” San faltered, unsure if he really even wanted to say it.

“…or if she will at all?” Wooyoung finished, sensing that it was what he was getting at.

San stayed silent, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes in an attempt to stave off getting emotional. He took a long breath before nodding his head, “Yeah…”

“Do you always worry about her when she’s in someone else's car?” Wooyoung probed, his instincts as a reporter constantly engaged.

San began to reply, “Not always, but today just—”

“—has you on edge?” Wooyoung assumed.

San shook his head, smiling, “Do you always finish other people’s sentences?”

Wooyoung's face flushed out of embarrassment, “I-I um— It’s one of my bad habits… I’m sorry.”

“Nah, no need to be sorry. I was just stating an observation is all,” San laughed, then answered, “But yeah, I am more on edge today, since it is—”

“— the anniversary of the accident…” Wooyoung interjected, not even meaning to. His eyes went wide and he clapped his hand over his mouth. He slowly lowered his hand, with an apologetic look on his face, “… seems it’s a very bad habit.”

“How did you know it was—”

A loud thud sounded from the back of the car, causing the both of them to look back, startled. 

“What was that?” Wooyoung asked, voice unsteady.

San gazed through the windows, seeing nothing but darkness. He uncertainly replied, “Not sure. I’ll go take a look.”

He grabbed the flashlight from his belt, turned it on, and opened his door. Wooyoung reached out, grabbing his arm as he worried, “Just be careful.”

“Always am. I’ll be right back,” San winked before getting out.

He cautiously walked to the back of his car, gravel crunching beneath his feet with each slow step. He looked towards the illuminated porch and furrowed his brow when he saw that you and your friends were no longer there. Shining his flashlight towards the back of his car, he called out, “Y/N? That you?”

He was met with a resounding silence, spurring him on as he rounded the corner, only to find that there was no one and nothing there. He scratched the back of his neck, a subtle frown tugging at his lips.

San had always possessed a keen intuition, and this time, his gut was whispering that something just wasn’t right. On one hand, he wanted to be able to unmask the killer as if he was in an episode of Scooby Doo and have this whole ordeal be over with. On the other hand, he figured the best course of action at the moment would be to find you and go home as soon as possible. But just as he was about to tell Wooyoung, a sudden, excruciating pain struck the side of his head, plunging him into darkness as he collapsed onto the ground.

In true ‘Scooby Gang’ fashion— you all had split up, believing it would be quicker to find Yeri within Seonghwa’s ridiculously massive house. So, Jongho and Yeosang headed towards the kitchen, while Yunho ventured down to the basement since he was the only one with the courage to do so; and Mingi eagerly remained by your side. The two of you climbed the staircase to explore the rooms upstairs.

You opened the first door on the left and the room was empty. Moving on to the next door, another empty room. Then the next, also empty. You sighed as you stood in front of the door to Seonghwa’s room. With a gentle push, you opened it slowly, only to find it empty as well; but as you were about to close the door, a faint sound caught your attention—the soft trickle of water followed by the abrupt silence of it being turned off.

Shortly after you heard a door open and saw Seonghwa emerging from his bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his waist and hair dripping wet. You watched as a droplet of water fell from a strand of hair down his back, trailing between his lean muscles and hiding beneath his towel.

Mingi nudged your shoulder, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, and snickering quietly, “Like what you see?”

You looked at him with a scowl on your face, mumbling back to him, “More like annoyed. Because of course, it’s not enough to be rich and have a pretty face. He just has to have a nice body too. It’s ridiculous.”

“You know, I can hear you,” Seonghwa laughed while pulling a black t-shirt over his head.

He had somehow completely dressed himself within the couple of seconds you two had looked away from him. You both froze as he walked towards you two standing outside his bedroom door.

He leaned on the frame and asked, “What are you guys still doing here? I thought your brother would have taken you home by now.”

“We’re looking for Yeri,” Mingi answered.

“Yeri? I thought she left,” He said furrowing his brows.

“No, she came with us and we didn’t see her in the crowd leaving,” You said shaking your head, “We figured she might still be with you.”

“Me? What makes you think she would be with me?” He wondered, crossing his arms.

You glanced at Mingi and he looked at you as well, mirroring the confusion on your face, “Because she went to go find you?”

“Really?” He perked up, “She was looking for me?”

“Are you saying that you haven’t seen her all night?” Mingi questioned.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t,” Seonghwa sighed, walking back inside his room, he looked back at you guys with a look that translated to why aren’t you following me?

You walked in and he continued, “I’ve been wanting to give her this, but seeing as you’ll have better luck seeing her today than I’ve had—” He handed you a textbook, “—Could you give it to her for me? I borrowed it from her during class yesterday.”

Mingi held out his hand, offering to take the book from you, “Yeah, once we find her.”

Seonghwa walked back to his door and stood in front of it, “Thanks guys I’d really apprecia—”

It happened so fast you didn’t even have time to warn him, let alone register what was going on. A figure dressed in a black cloak and a white, ghostly mask had quickly snuck up behind him, placed a knife along his throat, and slowly slit it. His eyes went wide and he sputtered, blood spilling from his mouth and down the front of his black shirt as he desperately gasped for breath, collapsing onto the cold floor with a loud thud.

Mingi dropped the book as you screamed, covering your mouth with your hands. Your heart rate increased tenfold while adrenaline rushed through your body, sending you into panic mode, and your brain ran you through your options. Run? Not really possible at the moment. Fight? He just took down Seonghwa easy-peasy, not the best idea. What other options did you have? Your heartbeat was becoming too loud for you to think properly.

The masked killer wiped his knife clean with his gloved hand and spoke, with a low sinister voice, “At long last, we finally meet.”

Mingi, moving past his initial shocked, frozen state, stepped in front to shield you, and scanned the room for all available exits. Bedroom door? Currently being blocked. Window? You’re on the second floor. Bathroom? The door was open and it was your only option. The killer was right on your heels, and just in time, Mingi managed to slam the door shut in his masked face and lock it tight.

Outside, the killer pounded on the door with a wild laugh, his voice echoing ominously, “Come out and play!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mingi panicked, pacing the bathroom while he thought, “What do we do?”

Your ears were ringing, and your throat felt painfully dry, making it impossible to swallow. There was only one door leading out of the bathroom, and it was currently being guarded by a deranged psycho with intentions that could lead to grave harm—or even death—for both of you.

A shiver ran down your spine as a gust of wind swept through the bathroom, and you glanced over to see an open window, “Mingi!”

He whipped around, eyes full of fear, “What, what?”

He watched intently as you walked towards the window, sticking your head outside. Peering down, you spotted a large concrete ledge that ran along the entire side of the house, just wide enough for you to shuffle across. Tentatively you swung one leg out the window to test if it was sturdy and Mingi rushed over to your side, grabbing your arm, panic trembling his voice, “What are you doing?”

The world seemed to fade away when you looked into his eyes. There was no one else, just you and him. With everything going on you were worried that you may not get to see tomorrow and there was so much you wanted to do, so much life you had to live. 

His warm brown eyes, full of so much emotion, made you feel calm. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and then moved your hand to the side of his face, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb. There was one thing you wanted to do, just in case you didn’t make it to tomorrow. You pulled him closer, glancing down at his lips and then back up to his eyes.

His posture relaxed when he saw the expression on your face and you asked him quietly, “This is probably bad timing, but can I do something? Just in case… we…” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence, but he nodded, catching onto what you meant. Your faces were a couple inches apart, he was so close you could hear his erratic heartbeat. You looked down at his lips again and then kissed him. It was a kiss you’ve been wanting to give him for months, and you did your best to savor the moment. He smelled of subtle citrus and cedar wood, and his lips were firmer than you imagined, but they were really nice. His hand was still on your arm, gently squeezing, while his other hand moved to the side of your face, pulling you even closer to him. It was the kind of kiss that would leave you breathless, and if it weren't for the banging on the door, it was the kind that would have lasted forever.

When you finally pulled away from him, you gave him a small smile, and he responded with a matching grin of his own. You put your weight down on your foot outside the window, which made him panic again and squeeze your arm tighter. He had forgotten what was going on and asked again, “What are you doing?”

You felt yourself shift into complete survival mode, your ears no longer deafened by your erratic heart and your brain could now think crystal clear. With a look of complete determination on your face, you explained, “Mingi, this is the only way out.”

You pointed at where the ledge and a lower part of the roof connected, “It’s either we stay here, hoping that he leaves—which he won’t—or, we can brave our way on the ledge and jump the ten feet down from the lower roof.”

He squeezed your arm again, worry visible on his face, but he knew your plan was the only option you two had at the moment, and he wasn’t going to stick around to find out if Ghostface would leave. So, releasing his grip on your arm, he nodded nervously, “Ok, let’s do it.”

The banging on the door had stopped, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a large pair of scissors resting on the bathroom counter. An idea crossed your mind, and you stepped off the window sill to grab them, tucking them securely into your belt.

As you made your way through the window, you met Mingi's silent question with a steely resolve, “These could be useful.”

Mingi sighed as he lifted one leg out the window, “I hope Yunho is doing better than we are right now.”

Aside from the rest of the house, the basement wasn’t that big, and Yunho doubted Yeri would be there in the first place. So, he made his way back up the steep, creaky staircase and headed for the kitchen to give up, assuming that you or the other two would have found her by now.

“No luck?” Jongho asked him, downing the drink he had in his hands in one gulp.

“No,” Yunho looked at the pair in the kitchen with a mixture of frustration and concern, assuming that they’d been in here the whole time, just drinking. Yeosang’s face was flushed and he was swaying in his spot. Yunho huffed, “Did you guys even try looking?”

“Yeasss-uh,” Yeosang slurred, hiccuping, “We c-ircled the bottom floor. hic…! Nothin! hic…!”

“Hmm,” Yunho hummed, filling up his cup with soda and taking a sip, “This whole situation feels strange as if something bad is about to happen. I don’t like it.”

There was a loud thud that thundered from upstairs followed by a scream, causing the trio to whip their heads in the direction of the noise. Yeosang squinted his eyes as if it would make it easier for him to see where it came from, “Whaaat th— hic…!”

Yunho felt a prick of unease course through him, “Why do I feel as if my words were a catalyst for something…”

The sound of banging echoed through the house, and both Jongho and Yunho looked at each other as a thought flicked across Jongho’s terrified face, his jaw dropped, “Wait— Do you think it’s….?”

Yunho seemed to understand what he was getting at because he pursed his lips and nodded, “It seems the antagonist has made his appearance.”

“Fuck,” Jongho whispered to himself. He had read hundreds, if not thousands of books, yet not a single one of them could have prepared him for this very moment, “Survival 101: We Should Have Never Split Up.”

“Gee, great idea. If only we had a time machine,” Yunho joked, unsure of how else to cope with the situation at hand.

The alcohol coursing through Yeosang’s system was clouding his thoughts, and he only just grasped the weight of what the two were discussing, his eyes widened in shock. In an instant, he felt immediately sober as he whisper-yelled, “Shit! What do we do?”

The sound of loud footsteps getting closer had the three of them abandoning their cups to the floor, a mixture of soda and beer spilling by their feet. Yunho swiftly moved towards the front door and the other two tailed closely behind him. As they rounded the corner, the footsteps had only gotten louder, sounding as if they were right next to them, and Yunho looked over, eyes meeting the empty, black mesh eyes of a Halloween mask.

Instinctively, he brought his arm up to shield himself, anticipating an attack. A large hunting knife sliced across his arm and he yelped in pain. Yeosang stumbled back, hitting his head on a wall, accidentally knocking himself out and Jongho made his way to the front door to open it. Yunho looked back quickly, hissing between his teeth, “Get San! Now!”

Jongho rushed out of the house, his heart racing, while Yunho clutched his arm, blood seeping through his fingers and desperation on his face. Ghostface loomed before him, an eerie stillness surrounding them as he tilted his head to the left, watching with an unsettling fascination. Yeosang lay motionless on the floor, and Yunho, fueled by adrenaline, fearlessly lunged forward, ready to fight back. The killer sidestepped effortlessly, forcefully shoving him against the wall and aiming his glinting knife towards Yunho’s head. His eyes widened, and he barely evaded the blade as it plunged into the wall just beside his ear. The knife got caught in the wall, and Yunho seized the moment, knocking Ghostface on his ass by sending him crashing to the ground with a powerful kick. The knife dislodged, clattering away.

Jongho had made his way to San’s car, the headlights streamed in the misty night air. His heart raced as he halted in his tracks, stunned to see the front doors wide open, the car appearing abandoned with no one in sight. With growing concern, he walked around to the driver’s side and was met with a horrifying sight— San lying on the ground.

Jongho immediately crouched down beside him, his hands trembling as he checked on his friend’s brother. A large pool of blood surrounded San’s head, causing dread to course through his body. He placed his fingers under San’s nose and was relieved when he felt his faint breath. He was still alive. His brows furrowed when he realized that Wooyoung was nowhere to be found.

He grabbed San and propped him up so he was sitting against his car, shaking him lightly, trying to wake him up, “San! Hey!”

San stayed unconscious, and with a defeated sigh, Jongho looked around for a solution. He caught sight of the radio system through the open door. Springing up, he slid into the front seat of the car, carefully toying with a few buttons to power it on. If San couldn’t help them, then he would call for backup.

Yunho quickly spotted where the knife had skidded to, just by Yeosang on the floor. Unfortunately for him, Ghostface followed his gaze. They both lunged for the blade, and Yunho was just in reach of it when Ghostface kicked it across the room. Yunho scoffed with a grin on his face, “Well now you don’t have it either, smart guy.”

He towered over the masked figure, and without a weapon to level the playing field, it was clear that Yunho had the upper hand. He threw a forceful punch, connecting solidly with the middle of his ghostly face, sending him crashing to the floor. Ghostface was motionless on the ground, and with adrenaline pouring through his system, Yunho assumed he had knocked him out.

Yeosang groaned, stirring awake, and Yunho rushed over to him to check if he was okay. Clutching his aching head, Yeosang mumbled, “What happened?”

Yunho let out a relieved laugh, seeing he was fine, “Well… you knocked yourself out and while you were taking your little nap, I knocked him out.”

“Who?” Yeosang furrowed his brow.

Yunho pointed behind him, “The creep on the floor.”

“Dude, did you hit your head too? There’s no one there,” Yeosang winced, feeling a large bump on the back of his skull.

“What are you—” Yunho started, turning his head to look, only to find he was gone, along with the knife, “Oh—”

“—shit…” Mingi cursed as he jumped down from the ledge onto the roof. He looked down at the ten-foot drop to the ground from where he was, gulping, “You’re sure we’ll be fine?”

You looked at him, uncertainty behind your eyes, “Yeah, sure— I mean… what’s the worst that could happen?”

“That doesn’t make me feel better at all,” He shuddered, feeling a sense of vertigo looking down.

You heard a faint tapping noise coming from your right. As you turned to look, your heart sank. There, on the other side of the window facing you two, stood Ghostface, tapping on the glass and waving at you like some kid at an aquarium.

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” You groaned, watching as he began doing a little dance.

“Jump now?” Mingi asked as Ghostface threw up jazz hands, then he knocked on the window again, this time much louder than before.

You desperately wanted to ignore him and just take the leap to the ground, but you couldn’t help but pull your gaze over to him. He opened the window, then reached down for something on the floor, lifting it up in the air, dangling it in front of him. 

You were on the verge of jumping, no longer willing to play his twisted games, but just as you were about to, you froze in your spot, realizing what he had picked up. Ghostface flung it at you and you caught it in both of your hands. A scream tore through your throat as you looked at Yeri’s severed head, resting in your grasp, her wide doe-like eyes were emptily staring back at you. Crying out, you dropped her and watched in disbelief as she tumbled off the roof, landing with a nauseating thud on the ground below.

“Oh god,” Mingi gagged, dry heaving behind you, “You’re sick.”

“Thank you—” Ghostface replied, chuckling, “—but I was shooting for creative.”

You stared at the blood on your hands, breathing heavily, with your heartbeat thundering in your ears. From an outside perspective, you probably appeared to be someone struggling to process what you had just witnessed; and sure, on some level you were, but beneath it all you felt an overwhelming sense of rage. You were seeing red, consumed by a fury that blurred your vision, and you knew he was going to pay for everything he had done.

In a moment of impulse, you lunged forward through the open window, tackling him to the ground, your heart pounding with adrenaline. You grabbed the scissors from your belt, brandishing them like a knife, and just as you were ready to unleash your anger by striking him, he pushed you off with surprising strength, pulling something from his side and aiming it at your head. Time seemed to stand still as you froze in your tracks, the chilling click of his gun echoing in your ears.

“Drop them,” He demanded. You let go of the scissors and they clattered on the floor.

Mingi rushed through the window, desperate to protect you, and Ghostface leveled his gun at him, shaking his head with a condescending tsk, “Careful, Romeo. Don’t think for a second I won’t pull the trigger on both of you.”

“Then why haven’t you?” You spat, moving to stand next to Mingi.

“All in good time, sweet,” He replied, moving behind you two, still pointing the gun at your heads, “But first, a setting change.”

“Come on!” Wooyoung groaned, trudging down the gravel road, holding his phone up high in a desperate search for a signal, “Is one bar too much to ask for?.”

He let out a heavy sigh, feeling defeated as he brought his phone down to his side. With the screen no longer distracting him from his surroundings, he furrowed his brows at the unfamiliar view and realized he had wandered too far from the car. He had left San, defenseless and vulnerable, on the ground, all while desperately trying to call for help. Panicking, he turned back around and sprinted back with all his might, fear gripping his heart at the thought of what could have happened to him.

“San!” He cried out when the car was in view again, and he kept running as fast as he could to him.

Once he was by his side, he saw that he was now sitting up against the car, “What in the—”

“Jesus! There you are,” Jongho huffed, from the front seat of the car, startling Wooyoung.

Checking on San who, aside from still being unconscious, was fine. He puzzled, “What are you—”

“What am I doing? I’m trying to call for help with the radio. What have you been doing?” Jongho grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I was trying to call for help on my phone but there’s—”

“No signal?” Jongho finished for him.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung blinked in disbelief, never having encountered someone who finished other people’s sentences in the same way he did. He found it strange and took a mental note to start mending his bad habit, “Are you a mind reader or something?”

“Nope,” Jongho replied, shaking his head, feeling annoyed that he was turning out to be right, “Just watching the tropes play out as I predicted they would.”

“Riiiiiigght… okay?” Wooyoung mumbled. He turned his attention back to San who was now groaning, “San?”

He blinked his eyes a few times slowly before opening them completely. He was met with the face of a concerned Wooyoung right in front of him, “Wha—What happened. Aaisssh…. Ow!”

He brought his hand up to his head and found the source of his pain— a large gash. Wooyoung was able to get a good look at it now that he was awake and he inhaled sharply, grimacing “You got hit over the head with something. It really doesn’t look good, San. We need to get you to a hospital… like now.”

“No!” San protested, trying to get up but struggling. Wooyoung held his arm out for him to grab onto and helped him stand.

“But you’re—” Wooyoung started.

“I’m awake now,” San interrupted, “And I am going to get my sister home safe if it is the last thing I do.”

“But—”

“I mean it. I’m not going anywhere until then,” San stated.

Jongho watched the two silently exchange looks that he didn’t understand the meaning behind.

“I called for backup with your radio,” He added, “The signal is a bit fuzzy out here, I’m not sure if it got through.”

“I’m going to assume that it was our suspect who knocked me out, yes?” San asked, and both of them nodded in response, “Alright then.”

He sprang into action, his head pounding as he unlocked the box in his trunk, unveiling the shotgun waiting inside. Grabbing it, he began loading the chamber, and then he whipped the barrel to close it in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh you really shouldn’t say that,” Jongho worried, stopping San in his tracks, “Survival 101: Never, ever, under any circumstances say, ‘I’ll be right back,’ because you won’t be back.”

San looked at Jongho with a deadpan expression, “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Uhhh you said it earlier and then got whacked over the head. I’d say the kid is right,” Wooyoung agreed, a worried look etched on his face.

“Exactly! You don’t even know who you’re up against. I saw the guy, he’s scary,” Jongho added, looking back and forth between San and the front door of the house.

“How terrifying can one guy be?” San scoffed.

Jongho responded, “There’s a Steven King quote this whole situation reminds me of…”

“It’s probably wrong to believe there can be any limit to the horror which the human mind can experience ...and the most terrifying question of all may be just how much horror the human mind can stand and still maintain a wakeful, staring, unrelenting sanity,” Yeosang quoted, while he helped Yunho wrap his arm in a bandage.

“Pet Sematary,” Yunho smirked, wincing as Yeosang tightened the wrap.

Yeosang grabbed a small roll of tape from the first aid kit they found in the kitchen to secure the bandage to his arm, “You’ve read it?”

“You know, despite what you and Jongho may believe, people that aren't in book clubs still read,” Yunho joked.

“Right… sorry,” Yeosang said as he placed the tape, pressing it down, “Alright. All done.”

Yunho took a couple painkillers and stretched his arm out, “Thanks, this will work till we can get the hell out of here, but first, we need to find the others.”

You and Mingi walked into the kitchen, nervousness clearly visible on your faces.

“There you guys are,” Yunho started, “We were just about to go looking for—”

He stopped dead in his words when the shadowy figure lurking behind you emerged into the light, gun aimed in hand.

“—you…” Yunho finished. He moved slowly towards the butcher block in the corner.

Ghostface pointed the gun at Yunho as a warning and he froze, slowly lifting his hands into the air. He gestured with the gun for you and Mingi to move over to the other two, and you hurriedly complied. Mingi was holding your hand and his grip tightened out of fear.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, voice trembling with anger and sadness.

“Loyalty,” His deep, sinister-sounding voice answered simply.

There was a silence that hung in the air when the last puzzle piece in your mind clicked into place and you thought out loud, “He’s not working by himself.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” He confirmed, pulling off his mask and leaving you and Mingi utterly stunned, jaws dropping in disbelief.

It was Seonghwa, standing there with a hauntingly large gash sweeping across his neck, exactly where you saw the knife slice through earlier.

“B-but— How? We saw…” Mingi babbled in shock, “W-we watched you die…”

So many different emotions were coursing through you at the moment that you didn’t know how to feel. Relief that your friend was still alive, or distraught that he was behind it all?

You drearily laughed, feeling near insane from the events of the night, “It was fake, Min.”

The sound of footsteps grabbed the attention of the room and time felt impossibly slow as everyone watched a cloaked figure enter the kitchen wearing an identical Ghostface mask. He was chuckling lowly, his matching deep voice echoing through everyone in the room as he exulted, “You’re on fire tonight, sweet.”

“Some prosthetics, a little fake blood, and a convincing enough performance…” Seonghwa removed his cloak and then felt for the edge of the special effect makeup on his neck, peeling it off and tossing it to the ground. He grabbed the sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and perched them low on the bridge of his nose, “… and you believed it. You’re too smart to not figure it out, Y/N. Had to throw you off the scent somehow, at least for a little while.”

“We were right earlier… weren't we?” You said firmly, standing tall in your spot, squeezing Mingi’s hand out of subtle uncertainty.

The other Ghostface took off his mask and cloak, revealing exactly who you knew it was all along, Hongjoong. There was blood splattered across his face and you furrowed your brows, wondering where, or who, it had come from.

He laughed, his voice now sounding like it normally did, “When are you ever wrong… Boo.”

A nauseating taste flooded your mouth as you heard him use the nickname your sister had given you. You spat back, “Hardly ever, Joong.”

He smiled wickedly at you, “I’m sure you still haven’t guessed our motive though, have you?”

You answered through gritted teeth, “No…”

“Want to take a crack at it?” He offered jokingly, but seeing your lack of enthusiasm, he perked up, “Aww come on! It’ll be fun! Let’s make a game of it…”

He tapped at his bottom lip with his knife, in a thoughtful pose, and then continued, “… I’ll give you three guesses. Okay?”

“Do I have a choice?” You huffed, annoyed at his antics.

“Of course,” He replied, crossing his arms, “But… if you don’t play, I might get angry and I dunno… kill a friend or two of yours.”

“Fine, I’ll play,” You surrendered, feeling Mingi’s grasp on your hand tighten.

“OOOH goodie!” He clapped excitedly, giggling, “First guess, let’s hear it!”

You thought hard, having no clue what could possibly motivate him to do such unspeakable things. Thinking back to your conversation earlier you remembered his current passion project and decided to take your first guess, “Does it have anything to do with your novel series?”

He inhaled sharply, looking almost disappointed, “Not exactly. I have gotten plenty of writing material as an added bonus though. Second guess?”

You scowled at him, your heart racing as you wracked your brain for the sake of your friends. Think, think, think! Your relationship with him had always been great, and despite his wild, murderous behavior now, everything had once felt so normal. You had shared so much laughter, so much happiness—at least until the accident… or was it really just an accident?

Doubt gnawed at you, the possibility unsettling. His actions tonight certainly suggested he was capable of it, but why your father? Why your sister?

Your eyes darkened, and you seethed in rage at the possibility. Seonghwa gasped at your expression and lit up, “Ooooh she’s got it!” 

“Irene…” You mumbled. Hongjoong’s eyes sparkled and he clapped.

“So smart, my sweet,” He cooed, stepping a bit closer to you as he asked, grinning, “You want to use your third guess for the ‘why’?”

You took a deep breath and sighed heavily, sarcastically replying, “Oh no! I wouldn’t want to take away your precious monologue. Please… by all means.”

His smile dropped and he pointed the knife at you, “Don’t test my patience. I’ve been generous.”

You spoke more seriously, trying to sound genuine, “I appreciate your kindness, which is why I’m offering you the same. I’m sure you’ve practiced your speech plenty of times. Written it out and edited it. You might as well get to say it.”

He retracted the knife to his side and nodded, chuckling, “Always right…”

Hongjoong leaned against the kitchen island, beginning, “Last year before the little accident— although, with hit-and-runs, you never really can tell— maybe it wasn’t an accident after all.”

He shrugged, mouthing a little oops. Then he eyed you up and down before going on, “Things between us were great, weren’t they? Don’t deny it, we were good together… really good. But your sister… your fucking sister had to go and ruin it all—”

“How could she have—“ You started to ask before he cut you off.

“Don’t interrupt me!” He fumed, a look of warning in his eyes, “Do that again and our audience is going to get a lot smaller… got it?”

You nodded your head, terrified and he squinted at you for a moment before continuing, “Where was I? Oh, right! Your sister…”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, “Irene stumbled upon my little— uh— hobby? I guess you could call it that. I didn’t mean any major harm. A small animal here and there, just to satiate the urges you know?”

You felt a chill run through you at the thought that he had been killing animals for mere amusement while he rambled on, “My horror obsession wasn’t rooted in the same things yours was, Y/N. Sure I liked books and movies, but reality… that’s what made me tick. Blood, guts, and gore. Killing. It’s just always something I’ve been drawn to. But I’m not stupid. I know it’s wrong, which is why I hid it away.”

He huffed, getting angry at his own memories, “Until your sister found out. She threatened to tell my parents, and they already thought I was strange. They would have admitted me to a psych ward, and I really couldn’t have that. So I did what I had to do. Evil thenceforth became my good. Your father was just an unfortunate casualty. I had always liked him, made me sad to see him go as well. I was really hoping he would survive.”

Your stomach churned, and you felt cold hearing him freely admit to all of this. He continued still, “I used a stolen car, that way it wouldn’t come back to me and then I broke your sister’s neck, just to be sure she wouldn’t pull through. After everything, I went home to you. I had gotten away with it. I was there with you when the news dropped. I put on my convincing act and you believed it. All was well in my world, but then… you got soooo sad.”

He paused to look at you, shaking his head in frustration, “GOD! You were miserable… far longer than I had expected and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was trying to be good and stop killing, but you were making things harder. So I had to break up with you."

"Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to. I mean for crying out loud I killed your sister to make sure that wouldn’t happen,” He sighed, looking at your and Mingi’s tightly intertwined hands, “Maybe I should have stuck things out. You seem much happier now. Maybe we wouldn’t be here now if I did. Except, I didn’t, so I guess—” He scoffed, “—in the end, it was really all for nothing.”

He laughed lowly, standing up straight, and finishing up, “I stopped killing for a long time. I was being really good, well— until I started writing my series. They say to write what you know… and the urge came back in full force, except, animals just weren’t enough anymore. Which is why we’re here now… That motive enough for you?”

You took in the information that you were given and it made you seethe. Unsure of how to react or even respond you stayed quiet.

Yunho replied in your stead, “That still doesn’t explain why Seonghwa is doing all of this.”

“Like I said before. Loyalty. He needed me to help, so I am,” Seonghwa put it plainly, wiggling the gun in his hand, “Plus it’s more fun than I thought it would be.”

Hongjoong stepped closer to you, leaning in with a devilish smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Seonghwa joined him, coming up from behind with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rested his chin on Hongjoong’s shoulder, tauntingly poking his tongue out at you.

You stared at the blood on Hongjoong’s face and he noticed where your gaze landed, he smirked, “Oh that? I guess you could call it field research for my novel.”

Seonghwa stepped back and placed his hands on Hongjoong’s shoulders, implying something more evil by his tone of voice, “It was so hard trying to approach her all night, so thanks for sending her my way, Y/N.”

“Turns out it’s much messier hacking someone up in real life,” Hongjoong laughed wildly and pointed at the blood splatter with the large knife he wielded in his hand, “Courtesy of Yeri…”

“Oh god…” You felt like you were going to be sick, your head was dizzy and the room was spinning.

You sent your friend to her death without even realizing it. You leaned over the sink, your stomach swirling as if you might be sick, but nothing came out. Yunho approached you, wanting to console you, which Seonghwa really didn’t like.

“Ya know, it’s far too crowded in here,” He remarked, a chilling calmness in his voice, before pulling the trigger and striking Yunho in the chest. You gasped, your heart racing and knees trembling as you fell beside Yunho, desperation clawing at your throat. He looked up at you with eyes full of fear, an emotion unfamiliar on his face. Seonghwa sighed contently, “That’s better.”

“No, no, no!” You sobbed uncontrollably by his side, placing your hands over the wound to try and stop the profuse bleeding. Mingi covered his mouth with his trembling hands, standing in stunned silence as tears streamed down his cheeks. Yunho’s breathing had become shallow, and you cried out, “Yunho! Please, no!”

“Y/N, I’m scared…” He whispered weakly, his voice fragile before he slipped away into darkness.

Your tears cascaded down, landing silently on his face. The always fun and joking, Yunho, your best friend since childhood, was suddenly gone. You couldn’t wrap your head around how Seonghwa could do something so heartless, so easily. He had known Yunho just as long as you had. You three had gone to school together since you were kids. 

You held Yunho tenderly in your arms, gently rocking back and forth, stroking his hair as his breath grew quiet, eventually stilling completely. You choked on your now quiet sobs, the grief of losing someone like family, again, was too much for you to handle. Mingi cautiously crouched down next to you, his heart racing as he kept a watchful eye on Seonghwa, fearful that he might shoot him too. When he deemed it was safe enough, he pulled you into a back hug, letting you sob into his arms as his own tears began to flow uncontrollably.

“What a moving scene,” Hongjoong mused, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “Perfect material for the book.”

“You heartless bastard!” Yeosang yelled angrily, eyes welled with tears, drawing attention to himself.

Hongjoong looked at him bitterly, scowling, “You must be my replacement as book club vice president? How’s Jongho doing without me?”

“Better than ever,” Jongho said from behind everyone with San by his side, shotgun in hand, aimed at both Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“Drop the weapons… now!” San demanded through angry, gritted teeth at the sight of Yunho.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue in his cheek and huffed, “I thought I killed you.”

“Nope!” San irritably bantered, “Gonna have to hit me harder than that.”

Hongjoong faced him, no fear in his eyes, just insanity, “Alright then.”

With zero hesitation he charged toward San, swiftly like a fox, knife in hand; and San, presented with an anticipated attack, was left with no choice but to pull the trigger. Acting quickly, he readied, aimed, and fired the shotgun. A shell dropped to the floor as the first bullet zipped through the air, destined for its mark.

Hongjoong was quick to evade though, causing the bullet to hit Seonghwa in the arm, taking a large chunk out of it. A sharp cry escaped his lips as the gun slipped from his grasp, and Mingi watched in slow motion as it landed on the floor. Seonghwa was unarmed and distracted, yelling out a string of curses as he grabbed his wounded arm. A window of opportunity presented itself.

It felt as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Mingi released his grip on you, his gaze locked on the gun, which did not escape Seonghwa's notice. With only three shots left, San aimed the shotgun once again at Hongjoong, but just as he pulled the trigger, Hongjoong grabbed the barrel of the gun, pushing its aim to the ceiling. Tiny fragments of wood and dust rained down from the impact of the bullet. Two shots left.

Mingi darted to the weapon on the floor, and he was mere inches from grabbing it when Seonghwa lunged, tackling him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, holding his injured arm while making a desperate grab for his fallen weapon. But Mingi wouldn't let go, he latched onto Seonghwa's leg, yanking him down with a forceful pull.

They were now caught in a battle of strengths, and Seonghwa was at a great disadvantage. Mingi grabbed at Seonghwa’s injured arm and clawed into the wound with his nails, making him scream out in pain. It left him debilitated just long enough for Mingi to move forward and grab the gun from the floor. Now completely unarmed, Seonghwa did the only thing he knew to do at that moment. Run. Mingi watched as he scurried to his feet again and bolted away.

Hongjoong pulled at the shotgun, trying to free it from San’s grasp, but where he may have been quicker, San was undeniably stronger. San wrenched the barrel away from Hongjoong’s grip and forcefully shoved him down to the ground. San aimed the gun and fired once more, Hongjoong’s eyes went wide in sheer terror as he rolled to his side, and the bullet missed him by a hair. A sharp crack echoed through the air as the wood splintered, leaving only one shot remaining.

San swiftly adjusted his aim, but it wasn't fast enough. In a desperate move, Hongjoong lashed out with his feet, sweeping San’s legs from under him, and sending him crashing to the floor. The impact was hard, triggering the last shot to go off accidentally, finding its target in Yeosang’s leg.

“Yeo!” Jongho yelled. He had been leaning against the foyer wall, desperately trying to stay out of harm's way, but he rushed over when he heard Yeosang’s agonized scream.

The bullet had hit a large part of his leg, and blood flowed freely, painting a vivid puddle in the kitchen. Jongho quickly undid his belt, wrapping it tightly above the wound on Yeosang’s leg, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. If Yeosang was lucky enough to live, his leg wouldn’t be surviving with him.

Yeosang took deep breaths in, trying to distract himself from passing out, “Fuuuuuckk dude…”

“Shit,” San hissed, the shotgun was now empty. Hongjoong chuckled lowly at the sight in the kitchen.

Through the chaos of it all, you found yourself entranced, just staring at Yunho, lying on the floor, lifeless. Not even the sound of the shotgun firing could pull you from that dreadful stillness.

Yunho was gone, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. He was more than a friend, he was like a brother to you. Memories of growing up together danced through your mind—

The first day you met him in kindergarten. A girl had taken the crayons you were using, so Yunho gave you his colored pencils.

The time you learned how to swim. His mom took you with them to the beach, and Yunho swam alongside you until you could do it without floaties.

The costume party you had for your twelfth birthday. He dressed up as Harry Potter and you were Hermione.

The time you asked your crush to the eighth-grade dance and he said no. Yunho made you feel better, and you two stayed home watching movies instead.

There was when he got his driver's license. You two had driven all around town with the windows down, singing along to the music he had blasting.

Then he was there for you when the accident happened. He was the one who helped you out of the dark place you had been in— Through thick and thin he was always there for you, and you were there for him. You were there for him…

You wiped your tears from your face and a fire ignited within you. He was not gone. Not today. You were not going to let him die like this.

Thinking out loud, you decided, “You’re not going to leave me, Yunho. Not right now.”

You had never been more grateful for the summer you worked as a lifeguard until now. Mingi and Jongho watched, unsure of what you were doing, while Yeosang had his eyes closed, grimacing in pain.

You pressed your hands firmly against Yunho’s chest and began the compressions, holding onto a steady rhythm. Then you leaned in to give him two breaths. One. Two. He didn’t respond, but you refused to let that discourage you. You persevered with the compressions, maintaining the rhythm. Then again, two breaths. One. Two. He was still unresponsive. Jongho gave a look of concern for you, he hesitated to speak, “Y/N—”

“No!” You asserted, less for Jongho and more to reassure yourself while you continued with the compressions, “He’s going to be okay!”

Two more breaths. One. Two. You held your breath and were about to go in for another round of compressions until you heard a sharp gasp for breath from Yunho. It worked.

He began coughing, each gasp for breath coursing adrenaline through him. His eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the bright light of life once more, and then he looked at you. For the first time since you stepped back inside from the porch, you smiled. You smiled so big it hurt, and your tears of grief became tears of joy. They streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, and it took every ounce of strength within you to resist the urge to pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Mingi, however, gave him the hug that you wanted.

“Yun! You’re alive!” Mingi sobbed, his wide smile filling his entire face.

Yunho winced, smiling, “Glad to see you too.”

Mingi pulled back in realization, apologizing as Yunho took in his surroundings. He saw Jongho looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and elation, and Yeosang had stopped clutching his leg from the relief of seeing him alive.

A loud yelp came from the foyer, and Yunho’s eyes widened seeing Hongjoong and San on the floor of the foyer, who were somehow still fighting, which snapped everyone back to the current situation at hand.

Yunho noted sarcastically, “This wasn’t just a nightmare then…”

You shook your head at him, a small, amused snort escaping as you noticed he was already back to his playful attitude like nothing had happened, “No, it most definitely is.”

He looked down at his chest to see it soaked in blood, “I can’t believe he shot me. What a dick.”

Mingi raised his eyebrows in realization and showed off his prize, “He can’t do it again…”

“Min! When did you get that?” You wondered, looking at the gun in his hands.

“You sure did miss a lot, huh? After Seonghwa got shot he dropped it,” Mingi answered, “I had to fight him for it, but when I won he ran away like a scared little baby.”

“Where did he go?” Yunho grimaced as he sat up against a cabinet door.

Jongho pointed out, “Just follow his blood trail.”

You, Yunho, and Mingi exchanged glances, and sure enough, a dark red trail of blood snaked its way out of the kitchen, leading to somewhere in the house. More than anything, you wanted to just stay with Yunho, and wait for an ambulance to arrive, but you couldn’t let Seonghwa just slip away.

You sighed, looking at Yunho, “We have to go after him. I can’t let the bastard that tried to kill you get away.”

Making eye contact with Mingi, he nodded, understanding that you would need his help. You began to get up, but Yunho grabbed you by the arm, “Boo… I—” He faltered, looking terrified, “Just… please be careful. You can’t bring me back just to die on me ok? You’re coming back no matter what.” He looked at you and you knew exactly what his eyes were asking from you, Promise me.

You pulled him in for a gentle hug, and then pulled back, holding out your pinkie for him, “I promise.”

He interlocked his pinkie with yours before letting you go. Before you stepped out of the kitchen, you turned to Jongho and said, urgency in your voice, “Call 911 please.”

“There’s no signal out here,” He frowned. It had been some time since he used the radio, and if he got through they should’ve been here by now. He cursed, “Stupid fucking technology tropes I swear…”

You pointed behind him on the kitchen counter, furrowing your brows at him, “There’s a landline.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me! This has been here the whole time!?” He shook his head, picking it up and dialing, “How I’ve survived this long is a miracle, I guess!”

Looking at Yeosang and Yunho, you said one last thing, “Keep them safe, Jongho.”

Turning towards the foyer, you hesitated for just a second, thinking you should help San before chasing after Seonghwa. But you didn’t need to, he threw a powerful punch, knocking Hongjoong out cold.

As San rose to his feet, he looked down at him, lying motionless on the ground, and discarded the empty shotgun to the floor. Panting heavily, San huffed to himself, “You’d think that since he’s smaller than me I would have an easier time… but no. He is surprisingly very strong.”

Following a trail and keeping a promise, you looked down. Your breath tightened as you saw the scattered line of blood drops leading out of the kitchen and to the bottom step of the staircase. Your feet followed your gaze, taking you up the stairs, and Mingi followed closely behind you, holding the gun tightly in his slightly trembling hands.

And like a sadistic pot of gold at the end of a bloody rainbow, there he was, sitting down against the hallway wall in front of his bedroom door, clutching his arm with a pained expression on his face. The great Park Seonghwa reduced to a scared mess. Pathetic really. 

He heard your footsteps and looked over at you with an angered expression, with fear in his eyes. He quickly stood up, pulled out the knife from his belt, and made a small movement towards you, but when Mingi held up the gun towards him, Seonghwa slowly backed into his room. Mingi had no intention of ever firing the weapon in his hands, but that was for him to know, and for Seonghwa to never find out.

A glint of light on the ground caught your eye, pulling your attention towards it— the scissors you had dropped earlier, now gleaming with promise. You snatched them up and slid them into your belt as you approached Seonghwa’s room for the second time tonight. Except this time you could only hope things would be different.

One could hope. Hope that for once, someone who was knocked out would stay knocked out. Except this is not that kind of hopeful story.

San had turned his back on Hongjoong, fully assuming it was safe to do so. He looked over at Yunho and smiled, welled tears glazing his eyes from the happiness of seeing him alive. It had been just a moment, but a moment was enough time for Hongjoong to recover.

Yunho’s eyes went wide and he quickly blurted, “San! Behind you!”

San couldn’t react fast enough though. Hongjoong had already grabbed the empty shotgun off the ground, holding it firmly in both of his hands as he quickly got up, and with all the force in his body he could muster, he whacked San over the head once more. San fell with a heavy thud to the ground, and Hongjoong looked down at him with a wicked, triumphant smile. Blood pooled around San’s head, yet he was still alive. Hongjoong could see his chest rising and falling, each quiet breath a testament to his fighting spirit.

Wooyoung had been outside in the car, waiting behind the wheel while the engine ran. San had asked him right before they went back inside the house, “I need you to be the getaway driver. Just wait here, we will be back out soon. Okay?” 

Well soon had turned into later, which he was worried had turned into never. An uneasy feeling settled itself in the pit of his stomach, and before he knew it he was opening the front door and watching San fall to the floor.

Wooyoung raced forward and tackled Hongjoong to the ground. He had never fought anyone before and was holding his own pretty well… until he didn’t block a hard hit from Hongjoong and then left himself open for a following blow. His ears were ringing and the last thing he saw before everything went dark was the back of the shotgun moving quickly towards his face. He had fallen, back first, across San, who was lying face down on the ground.

Hongjoong huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes, and squinted down at them in frustration. Pulling the knife from his belt, he crouched down and placed it along Wooyoung’s throat, mocking, “This is Jung Wooyoung signing off.”

Yeosang was beginning to feel sluggish, his mind was fuzzy and his body felt weak. He no longer had the strength to hold his leg, and blood gushed freely from it, with no sign of it stopping. He gulped, throat dry, and opened his eyes to a worried Jongho by his side, keeping the belt pulled tight. Yeosang’s face was void of color, and his forehead was dewy with cold sweat. He hadn’t realized how slow his breath had become until he tried to speak.

Looking over in the foyer, he said just above a whisper, “Jongho… go… help them. I’ll be… fine…”

Jongho furrowed his brows, confused, until he turned to see what he meant. He had been so deeply focused on helping Yeosang that he hadn’t even noticed the chaos unfolding behind him, “Oh shit…”

He looked quickly over to a distressed Yunho, who seemed to be doing better now physically. Yunho met his gaze and nodded, understanding that he needed to help Yeosang, who was doing worse by the second.

Jongho moved quickly, grabbing the back of Hongjoong's shoulders and aggressively pulling him backward, off of Wooyoung. A small drop of blood trickled down Wooyoung’s neck where the blade had just barely cut him.

Blood trickled down from Seonghwa’s arm onto the rug in his room, staining the cream color a dark crimson. The knife trembled in his shaking hand. He looked like a small, scared animal, and Mingi’s aim on Seonghwa steadied.

“There’s nowhere left to run, Hwa,” You stated angrily, “We’re not going to let you get away before the police get here.”

He trembled as he asked, “Did you really call the police?”

“Yes, they’ll be here soon,” Mingi responded, smirking slightly.

Seonghwa looked to the floor, watching the blood pool around his feet, voice slightly wobbling, “My parents are going to be so mad at me.”

“Your parents?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he was implying.

He stood up straighter, scoffing, “I would rather die than have them find out.”

“Are you serious?” Mingi deadpanned.

“You don’t know my father…” He said just above a whisper, “I can’t— I won’t get caught.”

He lifted his knife and ran towards you, yelling with fury, and quickly you darted out of the way, racing to the far side of the room by the window. He was hot on your heels, and in your attempt to escape, you unknowingly trapped yourself in a corner. As he closed the gap, he swung his knife, the sharp edge slicing through the air just above your head as you instinctively ducked.

Your heart raced, and the only choice left was to fight back. Recalling the one self-defense move that San taught you last year, you grabbed at Seonghwa’s torso and injured arm, and put all your weight into throwing him over your shoulder. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the room as he crashed through his window. 

Your eyes widened as you felt him grabbing the back of your shirt, and tugging you along with him. Panicking, you called out to the only person who filled your thoughts, “Mingi!”

Mingi hated running. He hated the way it made his lungs hurt when he tried to catch his breath. He hated the way it made his legs feel. When all the other kids on the playground would do relay races he would just watch, no matter how much the other boys begged him to join. He hated running. Always had and always would. He would do it for you though. He would do anything for you. He had never moved so fast in his entire life when he ran towards you. He felt like everything around him slowed down as he moved like time itself was giving him the opportunity to save you.

Just as you were falling out the window, Mingi grabbed you by the arm. He watched as Seonghwa fell to the ground as he caught you. His footing started to slip, making him drop the gun so he could brace himself against the window frame. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as a large shard of glass sliced through the arm he was using to hold you so tightly.

“I got you, I got you,” He said softly, seeing the fear on your face. You had both of your hands firmly gripping his arm. He tried pulling you up, but he could barely keep himself from falling out with you.

Seonghwa coughed, all the air from his lungs got knocked out of him when he hit the ground. A low groan escaped him as he rolled onto his side, desperately trying to catch his breath, the world around him fading into a dull ringing in his ears.

He winced, feeling a stabbing pain in his side, and glanced down to find a big chunk of glass. With a trembling hand, he slowly pulled it out, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out. He had bit down so hard he could taste blood and a single tear fell across his face as he cursed under his breath, “Fucking hell.”

Getting himself back on his feet, he glanced up to see you dangling just above him. If he jumped, he’d barely be within reach. He spat the blood from his mouth onto the dewy grass of the lawn and shouted to you, “You know, it’s funny. We’ve been friends for a long time, yet it feels like you don’t actually know a single thing about me.”

You looked down at him, furrowing your brows, and Mingi spoke at a volume only you could hear, “Is he about to start monologuing?”

Seonghwa continued, wiping his face, “You seem to think I live this perfect rich boy life. That I have everything handed to me on a silver platter. Perfect, pretty Seonghwa, with his perfect house, perfect grades, and perfect parents! Well, I’ve paid my dues!”

He lifted the front of his shirt, and you found yourself craning your neck, trying to see what he was revealing. Scattered across his torso were scars that told their own stories. Some resembled burns, while others seemed like they were deep cuts. Some of them even looked fresh. Having only seen his backside earlier, you were utterly unaware of the marks he had.

He spat out, “This is what happens when I make mistakes, Y/N. My father doesn’t take very kindly to anything less than perfection.”

He let his shirt fall back down, covering the scars. His eyes were red with angry tears and he gritted his teeth at you, “I can’t imagine what he would do if he knew what I’ve done.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have done it!” You yelled back at him.

He nodded his head slightly, “Yeah… maybe… or, here’s an idea, maybe we’ll just have to kill you all and make it seem like Hongjoong and I were the only survivors of a brutal attack. It’ll be our word against no one’s.”

He jumped up, swiping his knife at your feet, going on, “Hongjoong is the only person that knows me, the only person that supports me. Hell! He’s the only person that actually cares about me. I would do anything for him. I’m sure you understand what that’s like, right?”

You pulled your feet up, trying to avoid his swings, your gaze falling on the scissors resting on your belt. You had an idea but it required one thing, and you weren’t sure he would do it, “Mingi, let me go.”

He looked at you like you had just said the most insane thing he had ever heard in his life, “What?! No!”

You let go of his arm and grabbed the scissors from your belt, “It’ll be okay, just let me go.”

“No, no! I won’t,” He said shaking his head, tightening his grip on you and trying to pull you up again, but failing.

“Come on down, Y/N! You can’t hang around all night!” Seonghwa taunted with a wicked smile.

“Mingi,” You pleaded, “Trust me.”

His eyes softened, “You made a promise to Yunho, and I made a promise to you. We’re keeping our promises. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You moved your hand up to squeeze his hand reassuringly, pouring all the warmth and emotion you felt for him into your gaze, and then softly repeated, “Trust me.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes pleading with you. He promised he wouldn’t let them hurt you, and yet you were forcing him to break that promise. Though, deep down, he knew one undeniable truth: he trusted you. More than anyone else in his life, and he also knew that once you set your mind on something, it was going to happen.

So, with a heavy heart, he surrendered to your wishes, and just before letting go, he said earnestly, “Keep your promise, and don’t make me break mine.”

He loosened his grip on you, and you slipped from his grasp, falling on top of Seonghwa. A sharp wince shot through you as his knife jabbed painfully into your abdomen, but that was far from enough to stop you.

Clenching the scissors tightly in your hand, you drew back just slightly before attacking him. The sharp tip of the scissors plunged into his throat, and he gasped, pulling away from you while desperately clutching at his neck. His ragged breaths were interrupted by the sickening sound of blood gurgling in his throat. He collapsed to his knees, fighting to dislodge the scissors from his flesh.

You couldn't look away as he finally crumpled to the ground, bleeding out. Blades of grass poked through a pool of dark red. With a trembling hand, you pulled his knife out of yourself and wiped the blade clean with your hand, blowing a fallen strand of hair out of your face.

Crouching down next to him, you watched his breath grow shallow, his life was slipping away from him quickly. You caressed the side of his face, trying to offer your old friend a small comfort in the face of death. He was a monster but of his father’s creation. It made you feel for him just a tiny bit, despite all of the things he’s done, and you whispered, “I’ll make sure your father pays for his crimes, Hwa. You can rest now, you’ve paid for yours.”

A small tear trickled down his cheek as the light faded from his eyes. With shaking fingers, you moved your hand to gently close his eyelids. He was truly gone, this time for good. Tightening your grip on the knife in your hand, you rose to your feet and glanced up at Mingi, who was watching the scene unfold from above. A mixture of sympathy and relief etched across his face. He was glad you were okay physically… mentally he knew you weren’t. He wasn’t either.

“I’ll meet you back inside,” You said to him, voice tinged with exhaustion, “I’ll go through the front.”

He nodded his head and then watched as you walked towards the front of the house. Grimacing, he inspected the cut on his arm. It wasn’t too bad, but it sure as hell hurt. He picked up the gun from the floor, mumbling to himself, “Hopefully the others are holding up okay.”

Yeosang was not okay. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Opening his eyes every now and then to see Jongho and Hongjoong fighting. Yunho was patting a wet towel on his head, growing increasingly worried by the moment, “Hang in there, Yeo. Help will be here soon.”

Yeosang swallowed a thick lump in his throat and nodded weakly, not even being able to verbally respond anymore, he just hummed. 

There was a time when Jongho really thought of Hongjoong as his best friend. They connected over their shared passion for literature, and he was even a co-founder of the book club.

After your breakup with him, they made an effort to stay friends, but things didn't quite work, leading to a falling out and Hongjoong eventually leaving the club. Jongho hadn’t talked to him in several months and never in a million years did he imagine he would be facing off against someone he once considered a friend. It was hard to believe that the person in front of him was the same Hongjoong he once knew. Every time he looked at his eyes, he saw a haunting emptiness that chilled him to the bone.

“What happened to you?” Jongho whispered rhetorically, dodging an attack from Hongjoong.

Mingi had made his way back to the top of the stairs, and his eyes went wide at the scene below.

Jongho grabbed a vase from a table in the hallway and hurled it at Hongjoong, who caught it like a pro. Quickly, Jongho ducked down just as Hongjoong threw it back, and it smashed onto the floor behind him.

“You sure are making things fun,” Hongjoong laughed, running towards him.

He tackled Jongho to the ground and as he tried to get away Hongjoong stabbed him in the back of his calf, making him cry out. Mingi ran down the stairs and pointed the gun at him, “Let him go!”

Hongjoong whipped his head around and smirked, “Oh, look who it is…” He took the knife out of Jongho’s leg and got up to face Mingi, “… the boyfriend,” Hongjoong scoffed, “You gonna shoot me?”

Mingi stayed silent, scowling at him.

“You know what I think? I think—” he started.

“I don’t care,” Mingi cut him off, “Why would I ever care what you think.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong’s smile curled, “He bites back. Now I understand why Y/N likes you.”

“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Mingi spat, tightening his grip on the gun. His finger lightly rested on the trigger.

“It must really bother you that she liked me first, huh?” He taunted, “I was there for all of her firsts. I was her first boyfriend…”

Mingi clenched his jaw.

“…Her first love…” Hongjoong walked closer to Mingi, “Her first time…”

Mingi pushed Hongjoong back, but he just kept on going, “I’m a big part of her past and the memory of me will haunt her into her future. She will never be able to forget me, that's for certain.”

Mingi shook his head, “You’re wrong. You can’t haunt someone if they don’t care about you. She doesn’t love you anymore, she hates you.”

“Hate is just as strong an emotion as love,” Hongjoong argued, crossing his arms with a smug look on his face, “She would have to be completely indifferent to not care. Which she’s not. She cares far too deeply about everything and everyone to ever be.”

Mingi laughed, which caught Hongjoong off guard. He laughed coldly, wiping away a fake tear, “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Hongjoong scoffed.

“You want her back,” Mingi remarked, “It all makes sense to me now. Somewhere in that twisted little mind of yours, you think she might still want you.”

Hongjoong blinked in shock, “What’re you talking abou—”

“It’s pathetic really,” Mingi added, “and you know what I think? I think that you are really bothered by me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself—” Hongjoong snarled.

Mingi grinned wide, “Because I am not some deranged psychopath, who can actually make her happy. Unlike you, who will never be able to do that again.”

Hongjoong snapped and began to lash out, wildly swiping his knife in a blind rage. Mingi pulled the trigger, but his aim was just slightly off, causing the bullet to graze Hongjoong’s arm before hitting the wall behind him. His arm started bleeding, yet he didn’t even notice, too consumed by jealousy and madness. He was swift, managing to knock Mingi's glasses off and scratch his face, leaving a trail from above his brow down his cheek, just missing his eye.

"Do you want to know my favorite thing that people and books have in common? It's a quote from a Clive Barker novel" Hongjoong grinned, watching Mingi bleed, "Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red."

Hongjoong was getting ready to strike again when you burst through the front door, and without hesitation, you stabbed him in the back with Seonghwa’s knife several times. He let out a cry and sank to his knees, looking up at you, "Y/N... w-why? This isn't..."

For just a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the person you once knew and loved in his eyes before his heartless self returned, "This isn't how it's supposed to end." 

He coughed, blood sputtering from his mouth, making an effort to stand. You stabbed him again, this time right in the heart, leaving the blade lodged in his chest as you watched him fall to the ground.

Jongho had gotten up, limping over to you and wincing in pain. The three of you looked down at Hongjoong on the floor.

“Is he dead?” Mingi asked, grabbing his glasses off of the ground.

Jongho shook his head, “This would be the moment when the writer would think they’re being clever by adding in a one last scare trope.”

Hongjoong’s fingers twitched and you grabbed the gun from Mingi, shooting Hongjoong in the head.

You declared confidently, “Not in my fanfic.”

The sounds of sirens could be heard getting louder from a distance. It just made you laugh, a small, breathy laugh reserved for moments of irony.

“Of course, help is here now…” You mumbled sarcastically, clutching your wounded side, “Perfect timing.”

Epilogue.

It had been a little over a month since that night, and once again you were faced with having to work through your grief. San kept pestering you to go see a therapist, which was what you were doing now. You took a deep breath in, trying to collect your thoughts and emotions, before speaking. You exhaled and began.

“When the police and ambulances arrived they said that Yeosang was lucky to be alive. He had lost a lot of blood because the bullet hit a major blood vessel and he had to have his leg amputated because it was too damaged to be saved. He had a hard time adjusting to the idea of it, but he’s getting fitted for a prosthetic one soon and is excited to start saying he has a bionic leg. So at least he is seeing a silver lining I guess.”

“San had sustained two severe head injuries and was on concussion watch for a while. He is doing fine now, much better than the rest of us, of course. He’s already back at work and he’s putting a case together to put Seonghwa’s dad in jail after learning what he had done to him, which I’m very happy about. Hwa did a lot of bad stuff, but I can’t help but wonder if he would have done what he did if his father was good to him. Maybe? Maybe not? Either way, Mr. Park needs to take responsibility for what he has done.”

“Wooyoung quit his job, deciding he wanted to become a detective, which San is helping him train for. I think it fits him well. He even said I should think about becoming a detective too. Something about me having a knack for it? I don’t know… I like solving mysteries and stuff, but I’m not sure if it's what I want to do with my life.”

“Jongho had a bad limp for a while, but he is doing much better now. However, the book club is on hiatus until Yeosang can come back… so he’s been joining movie nights more these days. He has a bad habit of giving unnecessary commentary…” you laughed, “He’s become much more of a movie enjoyer than he’d like to admit.”

“Uhhh where was I? Right, Yunho. Yunho spent a couple of weeks in the hospital recovering, but he is out now which is nice. The doctor noted that by some miracle, the bullet had missed all the vital organs in his chest. He said something when we all first showed up at the hospital, it was ‘You must have an angel looking out for you all’ which I thought was nice…” you paused, feeling your eyes getting misty, “Um… because maybe we did have an angel looking out for us. The idea of having Irene, or Yeri, or my dad protecting us all that night has made it a bit easier to cope with, I think.”

“Alright…” The therapist started, taking notes, “We’ve talked a lot about how everyone else is dealing with that day, but you haven’t told me how you’re doing. How are you dealing? Let’s start with how you coped with Yeri’s passing?"

“Yeri and Irene Bae’s funeral was a couple days after that night, which the whole town showed up for. I was really quiet that day. Everyone was. It was hard at first, but I think I am doing better now, truly. Maybe it was the grief I had gone through last year, which I think gave me the foundation and strength I needed to keep going on with my life. Of course, I still think about it every day, but I know that one day I won’t. I refuse to let one night define me for the rest of my life. Hongjoong wanted it to haunt me, and I’m not going to let him get that wish.”

“It sounds like you’re really determined, which is good,” the therapist smiled, “It shows you’ve got a lot of strength.”

“Thank you. I try,” you said while fidgeting with a ring on your finger.

“Pretty ring,” the therapist complimented.

“Oh, thanks! My boyfriend got it for me,” you smiled wide. 

“Right! He was there that night too wasn’t he?” The therapist recalled, checking over her previous notes.

You nodded your head, “Mhmm.”

“And how are things with him? Starting a relationship during such a traumatic event can be tricky.”

“Things with him are great. You know how people say that relationships bonded by trauma can have their challenges? Well, in our case, it only made ours stronger. Mingi has been there for me every single day since then, just as I’ve been there for him. It feels comforting to know that even in the face of death, Mingi would go to great lengths for me, for us. I trust him, and for me, that is the most important thing.”

“Good, that’s good to hear. I was sure, that because of your past relationship, there would have been lingering fears you might’ve applied to Mingi, but it seems you’re not struggling with that.”

“I probably would’ve had those fears if he wasn’t such an open and readable person. He’s also proven on multiple occasions that he is here to protect me and that he would never do anything to hurt anyone.”

"That's wonderful to hear," the therapist nodded, taking more notes, “Alright then, we’re getting close to the end of our session here, is there anything you’d like to add or any concerns you have? We can always save them for our next session though if you can’t think of anything.”

“There is one thing I wanted to talk about, um… I’ve been having a lot more nightmares recently, far more than I had when my sister and father passed. Do you think those will go away? They’re quite vivid, and to be honest, they sometimes feel so real that it’s like I’m back there…”

The therapist thought for a second before responding, “Dreams are always really tricky to interpret and give advice on because they deal a lot more with your subconscious. My initial guess is that because you experienced this traumatic event personally, unlike your family's accident which you hadn’t been directly involved in, your dreams are going to be a lot more intense. I think it’s safe to say you won’t always have these dreams. Personally, I’ve always believed that dreams are just your subconscious’s way of working through something while you’re sleeping. I think once you’ve fully processed, healed, and moved on from that night, your dreams are going to go back to normal.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then we will figure out what to do from there. We can talk about it more in our next session if you’d like,” the therapist finished.

You nodded your head, “Sounds good.”

"Lovely, see you next week then," the therapist smiled, getting up to open the door for you.

Walking out of the room you saw Mingi sitting in the waiting room, flipping through a book he picked up off a side table. He looked up at you and smiled.

“You ready to go?” He asked, putting the book down.

You smiled at him and nodded, “Yeah.”

He held his hand out for you to take, which you accepted gladly.

“So what movie are you thinking we should watch tonight?” He asked, swinging your hands as you walked to the car.

It was Friday, which meant movie night. Thankfully, some things never change.

☆ Yeosang's Installment ☆ 🐣 Easter: WIP trope: opposites attract synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Seonghwa's Installment ☆ 🪐 May the 4th: WIP trope: office romance synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Yunho's Installment ☆ 🎃 Halloween: WIP trope: best friend's sibling/forbidden love synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Jongho's Installment ☆ 🍗 Thanksgiving/Chuseok: WIP trope: fake dating/love triangle synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Hongjoong's Installment ☆ 🥂 New Year's Eve: WIP trope: love at first sight synopsis: to be revealed...

It’s a lot. Too much, honestly. You’ve got a paper due, an exam to study for, and some general note-taking, a headache was already starting to form, and a general sense of dread was setting in. 

But it’s fine. It’s fine. Because at least you have your seat. 

The one by the window. The one where the light filters in just right, making the otherwise dull atmosphere of the library feel a little less draining. That seat made you understand just how a cat feels curling up under the sun taking a nap; so cozy, so at ease. And it was comfortable—more than the others, anyways—cushioned, in a way that doesn’t make your back regret ever meeting it. From where that chair was, you were perched over and away from the vast majority of the library, but you were easily able to people-watch as they came. It’s a small comfort in a long day, and you’re holding onto it. You always do. 

Or at least, you did. 

Because when you rounded the last bookshelf, ready to collapse into your little area of familiarity, you see him. 

Sitting in your chair. 

Some guy, completely absorbed in whatever’s on his laptop screen. He had himself in your chair. He wore a loose-fitted crew neck, and jeans, his hair tucked lazily under his beanie… his outfit portrayed how he looked in your chair; far too comfortable. His fingers were lazily tapping against his coffee cup, so carefree, like he has nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Like he belongs there. Which, of course, was far from true. 

So you stop, standing there longer than necessary, waiting for some kind of divine intervention, or universal fixture to this. Maybe, just maybe he’ll look up, and sense your suffering in silence, and move along with his life. Maybe he’ll realize that this chair was not his to sit in. 

But, neither happens. Nothing happens. 

Instead, he stretches a little, shifting like he’s settling further into his seat, and you feel an actual physical reaction—something between the lines of heartbreak and bitterness, maybe a little irritation mixed along. Irritation with yourself, maybe? You don’t own the chair, obviously… you know this. But, it’s yours. 

It’s yours. 

For a second, you debate saying something. You could ask if he plans on staying for long. Maybe drop some sort of passive aggressive hint? There was always the seat across, but that felt too cruel, like salt rubbed into your already stinging wound. 

You were lost in thought, but then his eyes flick up—just for a second, barely long enough to register your presence—before he goes right back to whatever it was that he was doing. There’s a light sprinkle of pink that appears on his face after a second. And his lips purse into a straight line, before the tug upward ever so slightly. 

And that’s when you realize. 

He knows. 

There’s something about the way his lips are twitching, like he’s trying not to smile, and it’s enough to tell you that he’s fully aware of what he’s done. Like he’s waiting to see what you plan on doing about it. 

A small heat courses through you, enough to make you pull out the chair from beside you without much of a second thought. So, without any other choice, you sit. You sit in the only other available spot at the table—that godforsaken, awful wooden chair across from him. The one that’s stiff and unforgiving, it’s everything wrong with seating. And you’re sure he knows that too, because now he really does smile, just barely, as he takes a slow sip of his iced coffee. 

You don’t look at him, as much as you want to, you don’t. You just open your laptop with a little more force than necessary, and start typing. You have no idea what you’re writing, but your fingertips tapped away at your keyboard. 

And so, you sat. Staring at the screen as you mindlessly wrote as the minutes passed. You figure at some point you’d write something useful. And then—because the universe just wasn’t done with you—somebody spoke up. 

“That chair’s not so bad, is it?”

With your fingers halting their motions, just hovering over the keyboard now. You slowly lift your gaze, and there he is, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup as he takes another sip, his eyes full of amusement. 

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. “It’s awful actually,” you deadpan. “And you’re in my seat.”

He hums lightly, shaking his head as he sets his cup down. “I wasn’t aware we called dibs here. And I didn’t see your name on it.”

Oh, you hate him. Instantly. Viscerally. 

“Didn’t realize I needed to,” you reply. “Considering I sit here every time I come here.” 

“Ah.” He nods, like the information is new and groundbreaking. “Well, I'm sitting here now.” He said it so casually. 

Your jaw tightens, almost locking into place. “Yeah. I gathered that.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, head tilted slightly, a slow, insufferable smile forming. It was almost to the point where you could describe it as shit-eating. And just as he grins, he reaches for his laptop, shifting it slightly—just enough to make it painfully clear that he has no intention of moving. 

Fine. That’s just fine. You weren’t about to let some bratty stranger ruin your day. 

You refocus onto your screen, posture stiff no thanks to the chair you were forced upon, fingers aggressively typing out something—anything—to keep from glaring at him. But your mind is already racing, planning every possible way you could reclaim your rightful spot without actually asking. 

You could get here earlier tomorrow. Beat him to it.

It wouldn’t be that hard. So, you let the thought settle, a slow petty satisfaction creeping in. You continue writing whatever it is that you are, and think of tomorrow. 

You walk into the library, this time with a little bounce in your step, a satisfied little smirk tugging at your lips as you take a slow, victorious sip of your drink. It’s sweet, something fruity with just the right amount of tartness; a perfect mix, like the universe was apologizing for yesterday.

Today, you were winning, and you made sure of it. 

You left earlier than usual, cutting through campus like you were a woman on a mission, and you did sacrifice your usual few minutes of mindless rotting on socials just to be here. Before anyone else, but especially before him. If yesterday was an unfortunate twist of fate, today is divine justice. That chair is yours, and you’re going to sit in it. Reclaim it. 

And so, with the extra pep in your stride, you weave through the aisle, your fingers tightening around your cup, anticipation creeping up on you. The closer you get, the more your confidence builds, your mind already savoring the feeling of sinking back in your spot, watching the light filter through the window, so perfectly onto your back. The thought of stretching out into the space that’s so perfectly yours that you could, well you could nearly—

And then, the world stops. 

You see it. 

Rather, you see, him. Sitting in your chair. Again. 

You come to a dead stop, nearly choking on your own drink in disbelief. 

He’s there, again, stretched out in your chair. His laptop is already open, positioned at just the right angle, his fingers yet again lazily tapping away against the keyboard like he has all the time in the world. His iced coffee—which frankly, he doesn't deserve—sits right beside him, condensation trailing down and onto the wooden table. An easy sign that he’s been here for a while. 

Like he planned this. Like he knew. 

He looks up. 

His eyes meet yours, just for a second, and then, the slowest, most insufferable grin spreads across his face. The same shit-eating grin from yesterday. It makes your stomach twist in a way you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. 

He raises his cup slightly, like a toast. 

“Morning.”

You can’t pull yourself to say anything. So you just blink at him. 

He knows. He absolutely knows. He knows that you know, that he knows. 

“Are you,” you exhale sharply through your nose, tightening your grip on your cup, almost to the point of spilling. “Are you serious?”

He just shrugs. “What? You didn’t call dibs.”

With every fiber of your being, you absolutely hate him.

“You—” you glance up at the clock on the wall, you are scrambling to process this. “What time did you even get here?”

“Earlier than you,” he replies smoothly, taking a slow sip of his coffee. 

You grimace. 

He just looks at you. Calm and amused. Infuriatingly so. He seems the type to enjoy watching people unravel. But you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that this has genuinely thrown you off. 

So, instead, you gather everything together in you, lift your chin ever so slightly, and step forward. 

“Fine.”

You grab the same god-awful chair from yesterday—the chair that has no business even existing—and sit across from him. 

And him?

Still wearing that same stupid smile. 

The third day comes around, and you’re prepared. 

You don’t just leave early, you have a clear cut plan. Perfectly executed. 

And now, here you are, victorious.

Sitting in your rightful spot, drink in hand, soaking in the warmth of your cozy little chair. The sunlight filtering through the window, hitting just the right angle on your back, and you lean into it, savoring every single second. It’s sweet, really. You won. 

It honestly should feel a little embarrassing how smug you feel about it, but you didn’t mind too much. He did have it coming. If he thought he could steal your chair two days in a row, then he clearly had you grossly underestimated your willpower to be petty. 

You’re mid-sip, indulging in your well-earned satisfaction, when you hear the footsteps. The presence. The slight pause in movement, like someone just registered something unexpected, just as you had the days prior. 

You glance up, and there he is. 

He stands a few feet away, his bag slung over his right shoulder, his iced coffee in his opposite hand. His head tilts slightly as he takes in the scene before him. 

Then, the slowest, most ridiculously amused smile spreads across his face, leaving you curious. 

“Oh, wow.” He exhales, shaking his head slightly. “You really wanted that seat, did you?”

You set your drink down, crossing your legs, leaning back into the chair like second nature. “What can I say? Everything returns to how it should be. This is universal justice.”

His lips twitch, brows furrowed, like he’s holding back a laugh. “Right. And by justice, you mean beating me here by, what? A few minutes?”

“Not my fault you slacked today.” You say, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve lost your edge.”

His eyes narrow ever so slightly. Not in an irritated way, more like he’s intrigued. He studied you for a second longer, then—

“Well.” He exhales once more, tapping his fingers against his cup. “Guess I’ll just have to take the seat across from you then, won’t I?”

And your smugness falters, just a little. 

Because of course he would. 

You shift, sitting up slightly as he moves, pulling out the chair across from yours—the very same god-forsaken, uncomfortable, completely cursed chair that you suffered in for the past two days. Except, unlike you, he doesn’t seem remotely bothered, not in the slightest. He just sets his drink down, slides into the seat, and looks right at you, as if this is all completely normal. 

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really going to sit there?”

He lifts a brow. “Did you call dibs on this too?”

Your jaw tightens at the audacity this man has. 

He takes a slow sip of his coffee, mockingly slow, before setting it down. “Besides,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, “it’s kind of nice sitting across from someone. Good company and all.”

You blink. “...We’re not company.”

“Sure we are.” 

“No, we’re not.”

He hums, unconvinced. Then after a beat he speaks again. “So, what’s your name, then?”

You pause, skeptical. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Figured if we’re gonna keep stealing seats from each other, we might as well know what to call one another.”

You study him for a moment. There’s something genuinely amazed in his expression, like he’s been entertained by you this entire time. Like this has been fun for him. 

Before you can answer, he glances at your cup, then gives you that familiar shit-eating grin. “Y/N.”

Your eyes widen. “How do you—?”

He nods at your drink. “Your name’s on the cup, genius.”

You glance down, and sure enough, there it is, scrawled in black marker across the side of your cup. 

“Oh,” you blink, feeling a little ridiculous. “Right.”

He chuckles softly, turning his own cup slightly so you can see the name written on it. 

Yunho. 

Your eyes trace over the letters as he leans forward, just a little, barely noticeable, and rests his forearms on the table. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, voice so smooth, almost like he was teasing. “I’m Yunho.”

You roll his name around in your mind. Yunho. It suits him, somehow. 

You take a moment to clear your throat. “Well, Yunho,” you say, meeting his gaze. “Just so we’re clear—this seat is mine.”

His grin only widens. “We’ll see.”

The fourth day, you tell yourself, is going to be different. 

Not because you’re going to get all worked up over a chair again. No, you’ve got things to do. Things a collegiate student has got to do; assignments to complete. You’re here for a productive study session.

Except, when you round that last corner again, Yunho is already there. 

He’s sitting in your seat and is wearing his signature smirk when he sees you approaching. 

“You’re slacking,” he says, sipping his iced coffee. “I expected better.”

You exhale through your nose, leveling him with a look. “I’m not here for games today.”

He raises an eyebrow, acting surprised. “Oh? Then what brings you to these parts?”

You wordlessly pull out the infamous chair across from him and sit down, dropping your bag onto the table. “I have work to do.”

Yunho leans forward, his hands cupping his chin as he looks up to you. “How tragic.”

You ignore him, taking out your laptop and flipping it open. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even pretend to do anything productive. Instead, he stays in the same state he was, his cheeks pressed against the palms of his hands. He just stays there for a minute, and then, his pen clicks.

You don’t acknowledge it at first. 

His pen continues to click. 

But you keep typing. 

And so does the clicking. 

You pause. Inhaling sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed, and then resume your work. 

A thumb presses down on the end of his pen a few more times and the clicks practically echo through your ears. You can only take so much of it. You slap your hand down on the table, making the pen jump from his grasp. “Do you have an actual reason to be here, or are you just here to irritate me?”

Yunho blinks. Then he grins. “Oh, I definitely have work to do.”

“...Then do it.”

He shrugs. “I work better with background noise.”

You let out a short and dry laugh, almost sounding strained. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?”

He tilts his head, clearly entertained by what you had to say. “What, you think I just came here to mess with you, someone I met only three days ago?”

“Yes.”

He scoffs before placing a hand over his chest in dramatics. “I am appalled by your false ideologies.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to your laptop. “If you have actual work, do it. Otherwise, find someone else to annoy.”

“Tempting,” he says, “but no one else reacts quite as such as you.”

You make it a point to ignore him, willing yourself to focus on the assignment. For a few minutes, it works, it’s quiet, save for the faint sounds of typing and shuffling pages behind you. You start to think maybe, just maybe, you’ll get some work done today. 

Then he speaks again. 

“I think you should take a break.”

You don’t stop typing, you don’t even look up. “I’ve been working for ten minutes.”

“Exactly. I think you’re overworking yourself.”

Your lips pressed together in a straight, thin line. “You just want me to stop working so you can bother me more.”

“Maybe,” he admits. Then after a beat, “Or maybe I just think it’s a little unfair that we’re sitting here and not talking.”

You finally glance at him, skeptical, wary. “Why do you want to talk to me so badly?”

He sits and acts as if he’s thinking hard on the topic, going far enough to point a finger to his lips as his eyes furrow into each other, like he’s deep in thought. He seemed to enjoy this. Humming, he says “Maybe because you’re the only person in this library that looks personally offended by my being here.”

You scowl. “I’m not offended. Just… mildly inconvenienced.”

“Ah, so you do like me then.”

You scoff, turning back to your laptop. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Yunho.”

He hums, seemingly satisfied. “Oh, so now you’re calling me by my name?”

You don’t respond, instead pretending to type something important. Yunho chuckles softly before reaching for his coffee, taking a slow, deep sip as he watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. 

Eventually, his eyes shifted from you, to your laptop, he appeared to be tuning into the sound of the keys clacking, one after the other. And from the laptop, his eyes followed to the drink you brought with. A sixteen ounce iced strawberry lemonade mixed with black tea and popping boba. The exact order stickered onto the side of the cup with your name scribbled to the left.  The exact same one from the days before. 

Eventually, he followed your lead and did his own studying, both of you working silently away. The minutes continued on as the two of you were engulfed in your academics, until eventually the library closed for the day, the two of you heading your separate ways. 

You’re already running late, which never happens. Usually, you’re the first one at the library, tucked into your usual spot before the place fills up. But today, Thirty minutes were stolen from you. You were in your sweatpants, and barely awake. And of course, as you rounded the corner, the first thing you see when you walk in is Yunho—leaning into the chair, looking up from his laptop.

“Thought I’d see you eventually,” he says, casually stirring his drink in his hand. “Here.” he continues as he pushes a familiar pink drink your way. 

You blink at him. “You- you ordered for me?”

Yunho shrugs, just pushing the cup even further across the table. “You’re never this late. Figured something tragic must’ve happened, like, maybe you overslept for the first time in your life.”

You narrowed your eyes, inspecting the label. Sure enough, it’s exactly what you would have ordered given the chance. “How would you even know what I get?”

“Habit of mine,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I pay attention.”

You let out a breath of air, sliding into the chair across from him and flipping open your laptop. “That’s a little creepy.”

“Oh definitely.” He takes a sip of his drink, then gestures at your outfit with an amused look. “Gotta say, sweatpants are a new look for you.”

You just groan. “Don’t start.”

“No, I mean it,” he says, leaning back, his grin only widening. “It’s a good look on you.”

You pause. Blinking at him again. He isn’t teasing—well, maybe a little—but there’s something fairly effortless about the way he says it that makes your face warm, just a little. It’s either the sheer confidence of it or the fact that it’s coming from him, of all people. However, you are determined not to let him get the upper hand, you roll your eyes and turn your attention to your laptop. “What are you pretending to work on today?”

“Same thing as you.”

Your lips pulled to one side, almost frowning. “What?”

“We’re in the same class, genius.”

Your brain practically stutters. “No we’re not—”

“East wing, big lecture hall, right? Got to be at least two hundred students? You sit near the front.”

You hesitate for a moment before you nod.”

Yunho raises a brow, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Exactly. I sit further back.”

You stare at him, trying to process this information. “You’ve been in my class this whole time?”

He nods, tapping his fingers against the table. “Guess you just never noticed.”

Your cheeks flushed a rosy color again. You go to open your mouth, then close it again in a hurry. You don’t know why you’re feeling so oddly flustered. “Well, sorry, but I actually pay attention to the professor, not the people behind me.”

Yunho chuckles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Something about the way he says it—lighthearted, so amused, but also kind of observant—it makes your stomach continue to twist in a weird way. Has he been noticing you this whole time? Shaking the thought away, you change the subject. “Alright, so what’s the assignment this time?”

“The paper. The one due next week.”

You groan yet again, rubbing your temples in slight pain of the topic. “Right. That one.”

Yunho tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t started.”

“Oh, I’ve started,” you mutter. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

He chuckles, nodding in a quiet understanding before he talks again. “Yeah, I get that. I’m still trying to wrap my head around half the material myself.”

You glance at him, curiosity now piqued. “You don’t get it?”

“Not all of it,” he admits, spinning the pen effortlessly between his fingers. It almost seemed dwarfed in his hand. “Takes me a while to really absorb everything. That’s why I usually keep studying after the library closes.”

You blink, taking in the almost shocking information. “Wait—you study after the library closes?”

Yunho shrugs. “Yeah. Just go back to my dorm and keep going until it just sticks.”

Something about that makes you pause. You’ve never really thought about how he works, you always assumed he was the kind of person who breezed through everything, given his calm and collected demeanor. The idea that he has to put in extra effort, that he stays up late grinding through the material, makes you look at him differently. “I didn’t know you studied that hard,” you say.

Yunho tilts his head sideways, leaning in. His head perched on his left hand whilst his right continues bobbing the pen back and forth.  “Some of us aren’t naturally geniuses.”

You huff a small laugh in retort. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.”

He stares back at you before letting his lips twitch upwards. “Oh? And miss out on all of this? Nah.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something about the exchange that feels a little different. Less like your usual bickering, there’s a little something more to his teasing this time, even if it’s small.

The thought lingers as you turn back to your laptop, typing out a few sentences before glancing at him again. He’s still spinning his pen, deep in thought, lips slightly pursed. He must sense you watching him because he looks up, eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your breath catch for just a second. 

He tilts his head. “What?”

You shake your head quickly, looking away. “Nothing.”

There’s a pause. And then, “You know, if you’re feeling generous, you could help me study sometime. You know, you do owe me a drink.”

You glance back at him, raising a brow. “After the library closes?”

His lips quirk up. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

A small silence settles between the two of you. He’s sitting there with a grin on his face, not the usually shit-eating one, but an easy one, something that makes you feel uncomfortably calm. You tap your finger against your laptop, considering the offer. 

“Maybe,” you say. “If you promise to stop making fun of my sweatpants.”

His grin grows a little deeper. “No promises.”

You roll your eyes yet again, but your lips twitch up despite your knowledge. The assignment still looms over you, and you know there’s work to be done, but for now, maybe you could let it wait. There’s always time to study after the library closes. 

☆ Mingi's Installment ☆ 🎭 Mardi Gras: WIP trope: accidental marriage/forced proximity synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Yeosang's Installment ☆ 🐣 Easter: WIP trope: opposites attract synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Seonghwa's Installment ☆ 🪐 May the 4th: WIP trope: office romance synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Yunho's Installment ☆ 🎃 Halloween: WIP trope: best friend's sibling/forbidden love synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Jongho's Installment ☆ 🍗 Thanksgiving/Chuseok: WIP trope: fake dating/love triangle synopsis: to be revealed...

☆ Hongjoong's Installment ☆ 🥂 New Year's Eve: WIP trope: love at first sight synopsis: to be revealed...