#chaotic fluff

“Wally, can you tell me where you are?” You opened the game map by right-clicking your mouse; the little square character marked his location. Great—on the other side of the map, doing who knows what.

You looked at your phone screen; you had been in a video call since midnight. The clock currently read 2:00 a.m. Through the device you could see your boyfriend slightly frowning, too focused to answer your remarks.

“Wally West, where the hell are you?” You raised your voice.

“I’m gathering things we need for the base…”

You looked at the camp, day eighty-nine, you still didn’t have the fire at max level because Wally refused to help collect wood.

“What kind of things?” You wanted to know.

“important resources…" His voice was almost a whisper "look, flowers!”

You couldn’t believe it. Seriously? Picking flowers. This was insane. The crème de la crème.

You looked at the missing kids table, still missing two (Squid kid and Koala), since your boyfriend, in a pathetic attempt, decided to rescue the third kid on his own, without a rifle or bandages, just a revolver with twelve bullets and hope. Clearly, he died.

After about twenty minutes of complaints on the other end of the phone, you finally found the damn bandage to revive him. Less than five minutes later he was dead again, that idiot, he had tried again to rescue the third kid.

He had to be a man…

“Come back now, we’re getting attacked tonight and I don’t have many bullets,” you lied about the bullets, but you really needed him back at the base. The fire was about to go out, bad sign, and no matter how many bullets you had, you couldn’t handle twelve cultists around the fire alone.

“I’m coming,” Wally replied, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You defeated a few of the enemies who had decided the camp was theirs. You tried to kill a cultist holding a crossbow, but now you were out of bullets. Damn Wally, leaving you on your own to take down the cultists while he played the role of scout, with the lame excuse of bringing back “important supplies.”.

Without bullets, there wasn't much you could do to defeat them, and getting close with a spear wasn’t an option since the health bar wasn't on your side.

Survive 99 nights in the forest—more like survive 99 nights in hell.

You tried to eat a carrot, but guess what—the deer appeared behind. By shining the flashlight on his face, you managed to escape. Tonight you weren’t planning to die.

At first you thought this would be a fun game to play with your boyfriend. The first matches were—laughs and silly jokes between the two of ya. But for some reason, in this one, Wally had decided he needed to be a solitary wolf, going off to explore the forest alone, leaving you with all the responsibility: keeping the fire going, building, and cooking stew in the crock pot so that when your boyfriend returned from his “great exploration" with just three pieces of metal and five wooden logs, he could eat stew to refill hunger and go back into the trees.

You finally got some energy thanks to several carrots and raw rabbit meat.

Cultists were still alive around the fire; they started absorbing the flames. The fire level dropped drastically—if you didn’t bring wood, it would go out in minutes.

The sound of the axe hitting the tree was starting to sound irritating. To your bad luck, it started raining. The last thing you needed—now the wood was useless because it was wet. Maybe it was the lack of sleep affecting you, or the fact that the damn game seemed to be working against you. Frustrated, you hit your fist on the table. On the other end of the phone, Wally flinched at the noise.

For a few seconds you just stared at the floor of your room, rethinking your life. A yawn slipped from your mouth. Not sleeping for two days and this damn game was driving you insane.

One thing was clear—you were the unluckiest person in the world.

“Are you okay?” Wally asked, now looking at you instead of the game. His face showed a bit of concern at your posture.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you picked up your phone to see him closer.

“Wally West, I swear if you don’t move your damn character to the fire…” You waited a few seconds to make it more dramatic, with the perfect excuse right on the tip of your tongue, a teasing smile appearing on your face right before you spoke.

“If you don’t help me with the fire, there will be consequences... Such as, for example no more sex for a month,” You had hit Wally where it hurt most.

Your boyfriend’s eyes went wide.

“WHAT?"

“You heard me,” was your reply, turning your attention back to the game. Now you were looking for coal; it was still raining, so firewood was no useful.

Out of sheer curiosity, you glanced over at Wally; even through the screen, you could tell how dissatisfied he was with your statement.

On top of the screen appeared the worst message: “The deer is hungry tonight.” Damn it. You opened the map to check Wally’s location; he was still far but moving toward the fire. Threats seemed to be the only thing that worked. Maybe you should use them more often.

“Sweetheart, are you sure about what you said earlier?” His voice was softer now. “Wouldn’t you rather take it back?”

“Wally…”

He ignored the call instead.

“The cultist fortress is open again,” he explained. You knew where this was going—He was gonna leave you alone again “I can do it, it’ll be quick.” he said

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“There are still cultists at the fire, the deer is hungry tonight, I have no bullets and my food bar is running out!” you shouted. There was no way to reason with this man.

“But the ruby chest…” Wally spoke in that tone you hated, making puppy eyes through the call.

You rolled your eyes wearily. Let him do whatever he wants—after all, you're not his mother.

“Fine, do whatever you want,” defeated, you placed your hopes on your boyfriend understanding that he should do exactly the opposite.

Night fell a few seconds later. Going back to the fire means almost certain death at the hands of the cultists who are still there but you had no choice. Staying outside meant escaping a hungry deer.

With your spear you approached the cultists by the fire, jumping between hits and managing to eliminate them. As a result, your health bar was now at minimum. No bandages in sight.

You needed to urgently relight the fire and heal. You headed toward the nearest tree, chopping it down with several axe hits until it disappeared.

“Babe, I got a lot of coins and shield from the ruby chest” Wally said suddenly, clearly proud.

“Mmmh…” you replied without caring. Coins were the most useless thing in the game, not to mention the shield...

“As soon as the furniture trader comes…”

While you gathered more wood you heard growling. There was no one in front of you, praying that it wasn't what you thought it was, you turned the camera.

But before you could do it, something jumped on you. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT,” you screamed from the jumpscare.

By pounding away at the keys of your computer without really knowing what you were doing, you managed to escape, but the damn deer—now faster, stronger, and with red eyes from hunger—was right behind you. The flashlight didn’t do much, only giving two seconds of advantage.

On top of that, you were hungry. The message appeared in red: “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Murmured as you jumped around a tree, dodging and hitting the trunk with your axe while the deer tried to kill you. Several wolves were starting to close in, now attacking too. All at the same damm time.

“Do you need help?” Wally's voice floated in the air. Focused on not dying, you completely forgot his presence.

"What do u think, huh?" Sarcasm takes hold of you

"Ugh, you're imposible" he said in a theatrical tone that betrayed just how funny he found the situation.

With nerves on edge you managed to put a wood log in your bag—something at least.

“AAAHH!” you couldn’t help but screaming when the deer scratched you.

“Stop screaming!” your boyfriend said.

“THEN COME HELP ME, FUCK!” you shouted back. You would regret speaking to him like that later, but now wasn’t the time to do it.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING,” he replied, lowering himself to your level, shouting too.

Your hands were shaking; you couldn’t control the computer properly. Damn game.

You stopped for a second at the fire, dropped the log.

nothing

Ha ha ha, how funny. You felt like throwing the PC out the window. You had never considered yourself an aggressive person, but this game showed your darkest side…

The fire was still at 0%.

Wally approached you, for some reason, his avatar—which used to have hair he’d bought with Robux—no longer had any hair; now he’s bald. Ignoring that fact, you remembered that you were supposed to be mad at him for leaving you alone again.

“Did you bring some wood?” you asked.

“No.”

“Shit, Wally, you’ve been exploring for over half an hour, what have you been doing?” you asked, now a bit calmer. You couldn’t see the deer anywhere, good sign.

Only 40 seconds of night left—the danger was far away.

Now eating some carrots from the ground, you regained some energy. Everything was going fine, for now.

“I’ve got all kinds of animal skins as well as—” he didn’t manage to finish the sentence. A sharp scream, which could have perfectly come from a girl, was heard through the video call.

“HOLY COW THE FUCKING DEER!”

“Use the flashlight quickly,” you ordered.

Too late.

KawaiiWally_UwU67 has died.

“You’re stupid,” you said flatly. Harsh reality.

Three, two, one.

Wally exploded.

“I'VE CONTRIBUTED MORE THAN YOU, EXPLORING, SAVING THE KIDS AND GETTING GOOD RESOURCES!” he shouted, now angry frustrated, annoyed... all the adjectives you can imagine and more. "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING, HUH?"

The screen of his laptop now showed your character (spectator mode), running from the hungry deer, hunger and health bars at minimum again.

You didn’t answer. Too busy trying to escape. Focused, you bit the inside of your cheek so hard that a metallic taste started forming in your mouth. Nothing compared to the stress that the game was causing you.

You needed something to eat. Bingo—a carrot.

You turned the camera, shining the flashlight in the deer’s face. The light blinded it for a few seconds. Taking advantage of the moment, you tried to grab the carrrot but your mouse decided to stop working.

“GRAB THE DAMN CARROT!” Wally’s voice came out desperately.

You sighed. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the phone screen: a dramatic Wally looking offended by your incompetence.

Frustrated, you raised your voice again. Your neighbors would complain tomorrow—screw them.

“CAN’T YOU SEE I CAN’T!”

Wally crossed his arms, resting his forehead on his desk. He started hitting it lightly. You couldn’t help but laughing a little at him.

“Jump,” Wally ordered, but he wasn't even really paying attention to what was happening, focused on trying not to lose his temper over a game.

“Wally I can’t, I’m trying to get the carrot but the deer is behind me.”

“WILL YOU PLEASE LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE ?" He's lost them "JUMP DODGE THE DEER AND STOP TO PICK UP THE CARRO—”

Defeat.

Both dead. Great—hours of your lives wasted.

“This is YOUR fault, you dumb fuck!” You blamed him, “If only YOU'D been with me...”

“It’s not MY fault, you are the one who fucking died!”

“You literally died first bro”

“Yo don't call me ‘Bro,’” he said, puzzled.

“I'm not your ‘Bro.’”

After several silly arguments, about who was mostly to blame, the two of you reached a truce.

But Wally broke it right away, just to prove he was right.

“If you had listened to me...” Wally muttered under his breath. Still going on about it, you were getting tired.

“I’m not the one who went five miles away collecting flowers,” you said, ending the fight. It all felt ridiculous at this point—yelling over Roblox. Pathetic.

You looked at your boyfriend through the screen; his hair was messy and he looked tired, but determined. He wanted to be right.

“I was doing IMPORTANT THINGS!” he protested, gesturing too much, leaning back in his chair.

Before you realized it, Wally was on the floor, sprawled out.

You didn’t want to laugh. Really, you didn’t...

Wally shot you a glare, but he also started laughing.

Thank goodness the tension had eased

“You know what? We’re both idiots,” he announced between laughs.

A big “play again” option appeared in the middle of the screen.

You checked the time—3:22 a.m. Sleeping wasn't an option.

“Play again?” Wally asked, now more excited.

“Only if you play properly.”

Then he laughed—a laugh soaked in disbelief and adoration and every ounce of wonder he’d kept buried under his steady strength. He leaned over your shoulder, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “She’s here. Baby, we finally got our girl.”

—

Her name is Willa James Barnes.

The day you bring her home, the house is already full of boy energy. Nerf darts fly past your head. One of the twins is naked for reasons you don’t understand. And you find a slice of bologna taped to the fridge.

But the second you cross the threshold, all five brothers fall into line like you’re walking in with royalty.

“She’s so tiny,” whispers Asher, your oldest, peeking over the bassinet like he’s afraid to breathe too close. “Can I hold her?”

“She smells like milk and marshmallows,” says Luca, twin A, with a weird sort of awe.

“I call dibs on punching anyone who breaks her heart,” says Eli, who is ten, and terrifyingly serious.

Bucky just watches from behind you, arms crossed, smiling like a man who’s had his whole world handed to him in six-pound form.

“She already runs this house,” he says. “No doubt about it.”

And he’s right.

—

By week two, Bucky’s done something no one expected: He’s bought a pink toolset.

“Just in case,” he says casually, assembling Willa’s crib with a tiny wrench labeled “Sparkle Spanner.” “She might be handy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t even let the boys use your tools until they were like seven.”

“She’s different,” Bucky says, not looking up. “She’s got… finesse.”

You don’t mention that she’s still cross-eyed half the time.

You just smile and let him have this.

—

Willa grows fast.

She’s bossy at six months, opinionated by eight, and holding court in the living room by the time she’s one—sitting in the middle of a chaos ring of trucks, LEGOs, and her brothers all hanging on her every babble like she’s the queen.

“She got Dad wrapped around her finger,” Asher mutters one day, helping her into a sparkly tutu over her dinosaur onesie.

“She has all of us wrapped,” says Jacob, the sensitive one.

They aren’t wrong.

Bucky carries her in a chest wrap like a soldier on patrol. He sits through imaginary tea parties with a pink tiara clipped into his short hair. He learns how to braid. And he starts waking up even earlier just to rock her in the kitchen before the rest of the house stirs.

You wake up one morning to find him slow-dancing with her barefoot on the tile floor, humming softly.

“I used to think I had it all,” he whispers. “And then she came along and reminded me there’s always more to love.”

—

But still—there are shadows.

Some nights you still jolt awake, remembering the beeping of the machines from the NICU years ago. The frantic rush of the twins’ birth. The fear.

One night, Bucky finds you sitting on the nursery floor, Willa asleep in your arms.

“Hey,” he murmurs, crouching beside you. “You okay?”

You nod, but your eyes are glassy. “I just… I didn’t think we’d get this. Not again.”

Bucky runs his hand over your back and kisses your temple.

“Neither did I.”

A beat of quiet.

“But I’m so damn glad we did.”

You both sit there for a while, just watching your daughter breathe.

And it feels like the missing piece of something you didn’t even know was incomplete.

—

Willa is spoiled, of course.

Not in things—but in love.

Her brothers walk her to preschool in a protective unit like she’s being escorted to the Pentagon. One of the twins cries the first time she skins her knee. Asher threatens a classmate for stealing her favorite crayon color. Eli has a full-on chart of approved future dates by the time she’s five.

And Bucky?

Bucky’s still her moon and stars.

He builds her a dollhouse with real lighting.

He lets her paint his metal arm with tiny hearts.

He keeps her picture in his wallet even when she gets peanut butter on it.

“She’s gonna break me one day,” he says, grinning, arms full of his kids on the couch, Willa nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “She already has.”

You rest your head on his chest and laugh.

“She had you broken the minute she cried in that delivery room.”

He nods.

“Damn right she did.”

—

Years from now, people will joke about how the infamous Bucky Barnes became a softie.

How the Winter Soldier turned into a girl dad with paint in his beard and glitter on his boots.

But no one—not a single person—will be surprised.

Because all you have to do is look at the way he watches her.

And you’ll understand.

This man would burn down the world for his daughter.

Across the training room, John lifts his chin exactly two centimeters.

You narrow your eyes.

He narrows his back.

You tilt your head toward the weapons rack.

He glances at it, glances at Bucky, then glances back at you.

You blink once.

John's mouth twitches.

Then, without saying a word, he steps behind Bucky, reaches around him, plucks the foam training knife off the rack, and tosses it underhand across the room.

You catch it without looking.

Bucky, who has been standing directly between you and John the entire time, goes still.

Slowly, he turns his head toward you. Then toward John. Then back toward you. "What was that?" he asks.

You look down at the foam knife in your hand. "What was what?"

"That."

John grabs his water bottle from the bench. "Knife transfer."

"With eye contact?"

"Situational awareness," you say.

Bucky's jaw tightens. "You two are getting worse."

"We're getting efficient," John says.

"We're developing as professionals," you add.

Bucky points between you. "You made eight facial expressions and committed theft."

"It wasn't theft," John says. "It was logistics."

Bucky stares at him.

John drinks his water.

You toss the foam knife back at Bucky. He catches it, annoyed that he catches it well, which somehow makes the entire thing better.

That should've been the end of it.

Unfortunately, you and John have never once let anything be the end of anything.

The handshakes were bad enough. Now, apparently, you and John have evolved.

You don't just have handshakes anymore.

You have looks. Sounds. Phrases. Small, stupid little bits of language that mean nothing to anyone else and everything to you.

It happens naturally.

A hum means come here.

A double click of the tongue means look left.

A sharp inhale through your teeth means absolutely not, Walker.

John's little "mm" means I'm listening, but I'm about to do something dumb.

Your "hm" means I know, and I'm deciding whether to stop you.

A slow blink means get me out of this conversation before Alexei explains his squat-based greeting again.

Two fingers tapped against your own wrist means food theft.

One eyebrow up means we're not telling them.

Both eyebrows up means we should absolutely tell them, but in the worst way possible.

And then there are the phrases.

"Ceiling weather" means the vibes are terrible.

"Blue fork" means someone's lying.

"Parking lot rules" means nobody panic, but definitely prepare to panic.

"Soup is armed" means you've both lost the plot and there's no returning from it.

You don't know how it started.

You're pretty sure John said it once during a mission when an informant served suspicious stew with a gun hidden under the table.

Now it means everything. It means danger. It means awkwardness.

It means Bucky looks like he's two seconds from throwing someone through drywall.

It means Valentina has entered the room wearing sunglasses indoors.

It means Alexei is about to say something that'll require a team apology.

It's a system. A perfect, terrible, deeply stupid system. And for three blissful weeks, nobody notices.

Then Bob ruins everything.

You're in the common room with John, Ava, Yelena, Bucky, and Bob. Alexei is somewhere upstairs, allegedly "resting," though the thuds in the ceiling suggest he's either exercising or fighting furniture.

Valentina stands by the windows, reviewing mission details from her tablet. "The target will likely attempt to escape through the east corridor."

John makes a small sound beside you. "Mm."

You don't look at him. You keep your eyes on Valentina. "Mm-hm," you answer softly.

John shifts his weight.

You tap two fingers against your thigh.

He clears his throat.

You hum once.

John nods.

Bucky's eyes move between you. Ava's tea pauses halfway to her mouth. Yelena stops eating chips.

Valentina doesn't notice, which is probably the only mercy left in the room.

Bob, sweet Bob, kind Bob, Bob with the survival instincts of a scented candle, raises his hand. "Sorry," he says. "Are they talking?"

Valentina looks up. "Who?"

Bob points at you and John.

The room goes silent.

You and John slowly turn toward Bob.

Bob's hand lowers. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

"No," you say.

"Definitely not," John adds.

Valentina removes her sunglasses.

Ava sets her tea down with the delicate precision of a woman preparing for war. "I knew it."

Yelena sits forward. "I knew there were noises."

"There aren't noises," you say.

John nods. "No noises."

"You literally just hummed at each other," Bucky says.

"That was breathing," John says.

"You said 'mm.'"

"That's a natural human sound."

"You answered it," Ava says to you.

"I'm also human."

Yelena points a chip at you. "Debatable."

Valentina closes her tablet. "Explain."

You smile politely. "No."

John smiles too. "Can't."

"Classified," you both say together.

Alexei bursts into the room at exactly the wrong moment wearing gym shorts, one sock, and the expression of a man who heard gossip through concrete. "Who has classified thing?"

Nobody answers.

His eyes widen. "It's handshakes again."

"It's not handshakes," Bucky says.

Alexei gasps. "Worse?"

Yelena nods gravely. "They've developed a sound language."

"It's not a sound language," you say.

John leans closer to you. "Ceiling weather."

You snort.

Every head turns.

Ava's eyes narrow. "What does ceiling weather mean?"

"Nothing," John says.

"It means something," Yelena says. "Write it down."

"There's nothing to write down." You insist.

Yelena grabs the whiteboard marker from the side table like she's been waiting for the universe to hand her purpose.

She writes:

WEIRD LANGUAGE

Under it, she adds:

Mm = suspicious

Ceiling weather = unknown

Knife transfer = crime

"That wasn't a crime," John says.

Bucky mutters, "It was close."

Valentina looks at the board, then at you. "How many of these are there?"

You and John look at each other. Terrible mistake.

Because John raises one eyebrow.

You raise both.

He presses his lips together.

You tilt your head.

He lets out the smallest laugh.

Yelena screams. Not loudly, just one sharp little "Ha!" of triumph. "You are doing it right now!"

"We're not," you say.

"You are!" Bob says, delighted. "That was a whole conversation."

"What did it mean?" Ava asks.

John folds his arms. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Bucky points at him. "That means it meant something."

Alexei looks betrayed all over again. "First, secret handshake. Now secret face?"

"It's not secret face," you say.

"It is face espionage."

John nods once. "That's actually pretty good."

"Don't encourage him."

Alexei marches to the whiteboard and writes FACE ESPIONAGE in massive letters.

Valentina pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm not approving this."

"You don't approve team culture," Yelena says.

"I absolutely do when team culture becomes mouth Morse code."

John looks at you.

You look at John.

You both click your tongues once.

Valentina's head snaps up. "No."

"What?" you ask.

"No clicking."

John points at himself. "I didn't click."

"You clicked."

"I have teeth."

"That's not a defense."

Ava leans forward. "What does the click mean?"

"Nothing," you say.

"It means something," Bucky says.

"Why are you so invested?" John asks.

"Because I'm apparently surrounded by human walkie-talkies."

Bob raises his hand again. "Can I learn it?"

"No," everyone says.

Bob lowers his hand.

You immediately feel guilty.

John does too, because he's tragically soft under all that military-grade smugness. He sighs. "Okay. Bob can learn one."

You turn to him. "John."

"What?"

"We talked about this after the handshake incident."

Bob perks up. "You talked about me?"

"No," you say.

"Yes," John says at the same time.

Bob looks pleased anyway.

Yelena draws a new column.

AUTHORIZED STUDENTS

Bob: pending

Alexei: denied

Bucky: pretending not to care

Ava: already spying

"I am not spying," Ava says.

Yelena doesn't look at her. "You're memorizing blink patterns."

Ava takes a sip of tea. "That's not spying. That's threat assessment."

Bucky closes his book. "Fine. What's 'blue fork'?"

You freeze.

John freezes.

The room sharpens.

Bucky smiles very slowly. "Interesting."

Ava points. "That one's real."

"Everything's real," Yelena says, scribbling.

John looks at you.

You look back.

One blink.

A tiny hum.

Two fingers tap against the table.

John nods.

Bucky groans. "Stop doing that."

"We're not doing anything," you say.

"You just had a board meeting with your eyelashes."

Valentina looks deeply tired. "I need every phrase on that board by end of day."

You laugh.

She doesn't.

"You're serious?"

"Very."

John slips his hands into his pockets. "Can't. It's organic."

"It's nonsense."

"Organic nonsense."

Alexei slams a fist against his palm. "Then we make our own."

The room stills.

Ava says, "No."

Yelena says, "Yes."

Bucky says, "Absolutely not."

Bob says, "I'd like a phrase."

Valentina says, "Nobody is making a phrase."

Alexei lifts both arms. "Too late. Revolution has begun."

It does, in fact, begin.

By dinner, Yelena has invented a noise system consisting of three clicks, a hum, and one sharp whistle that makes Bucky flinch every time.

"What does that one mean?" Bob asks after she whistles at him across the kitchen.

"It means you are standing in front of the drawer I need."

Bob steps aside. "Oh. That's useful."

"It's also awful," Bucky says.

Yelena whistles again, this time at him.

He doesn't move.

She whistles louder.

He turns slowly. "Do it again and I'm eating your chips."

She gasps. "You wouldn't."

John leans toward you. "Blue fork."

You choke on your water.

Ava's head snaps up. "That means lie."

"No, it doesn't," John says.

"Yes, it does," Bucky says.

You look at him. "How would you know?"

"Because he said it when Yelena told Bob she didn't steal his pudding."

Yelena points at Bucky. "You have been collecting data too."

"I have eyes."

"And feelings," you add.

Bucky's stare goes flat.

John murmurs, "Ceiling weather."

You lose it.

Ava looks furious that she doesn't understand. "This is intolerable."

So Ava builds her own system.

It's not fun. It's not silly. It's terrifying.

One eyebrow shift means move.

Two blinks means duck.

A slow turn of her mug means shut up right now.

A gentle tap of her spoon against the table means if you don't stop talking, I'll phase my hand into your snack and ruin your day.

Nobody knows how they know this, they just do.

During breakfast the next morning, Alexei begins explaining the emotional symbolism of his proposed "solidarity grunt language." Ava taps her spoon once.

The entire table goes silent.

Alexei frowns. "Why did everyone stop?"

Bob whispers, "Spoon."

Alexei looks at Ava's spoon.

Ava smiles pleasantly.

Alexei sits down.

John leans toward you. "Parking lot rules."

You nod. "Soup is armed."

Bucky pushes his chair back. "Nope." He leaves.

Yelena writes:

SOUP IS ARMED = escalation

PARKING LOT RULES = possible disaster

SPOON = Ava has seized control

By the end of the day, Bob has invented his own form of communication.

It's mostly thumbs.

Thumbs up means good.

Two thumbs up means great.

One thumb sideways means confused but supportive.

Two thumbs sideways means confused and afraid.

No thumbs means he's gone nonverbal because the room got too weird.

It's surprisingly effective.

John respects it. You respect it. Ava respects it.

Yelena studies it like Bob has accidentally rediscovered an ancient language.

Alexei hates it because it doesn't involve enough yelling.

Bucky becomes fluent immediately. This annoys everyone.

"How do you understand him?" Yelena asks when Bucky passes Bob the salt after one sideways thumb and a small nose scrunch.

Bucky shrugs. "He's clear."

"I'm clear," Alexei says.

"No, you're loud."

"I'm loudly clear."

Ava taps her spoon.

Alexei sits down again.

Then Bucky, because he's the worst kind of hypocrite, develops his own system without admitting it.

It's grunts. Not random grunts. Specific grunts.

A low one means no.

A shorter one means absolutely not.

A sigh through the nose means I heard you, and I'm ignoring you.

A soft hum means maybe.

A barely audible "hm" means yes, but I'm annoyed about it.

John figures it out first.

You catch him standing beside the fridge, watching Bucky stare into it.

Bucky grunts.

John hands him the leftover pasta.

Bucky grunts again.

John gives him a fork.

Bucky hums.

John nods. "You're welcome."

You stare.

Bucky shuts the fridge.

You point between them. "Did you just speak Barnes?"

"No," John says.

Bucky says nothing.

"That was Barnes."

"It wasn't."

"He grunted and you provided pasta."

John shrugs. "Context clues."

Bucky walks away with the pasta.

You follow him with your eyes. "He said thank you."

John nods. "Yeah."

"He did not say thank you."

"He did."

"He hummed."

"That was thank you."

You stare at him.

John smiles. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"You're jealous I speak Barnes."

"I speak Barnes."

From across the room, Bucky grunts.

You point at him. "See?"

John tilts his head. "That meant 'stop involving me.'"

Bucky grunts again.

John nods. "And that meant 'especially you.'"

Your mouth falls open.

Bucky leaves the room.

You turn slowly toward John. "How dare you."

He grins. "What? I'm multilingual."

You flick his shoulder.

He catches your hand automatically.

Palm.

Backhand.

Fist.

Roll.

Then you both pause. The whole team isn't there. It's just the two of you in the kitchen.

John's thumb brushes yours, the private little last step of the new handshake.

Your chest softens.

He smiles at you.

Then, from behind the pantry door, Alexei whispers, "I knew there was romantic thumb."

You scream. "Son of a...!"

John yanks the pantry door open.

Alexei is crouched inside with a bag of pretzels and the expression of a man who has witnessed history.

"Why are you in the pantry?" John demands.

"Research."

You press a hand over your heart. "You almost killed me."

Alexei points at your joined hands. "You have secret romance language too."

John looks down at your hands. You do too. Neither of you lets go.

Alexei's eyes get wetter. "Beautiful."

"No," John says. "Not beautiful. Illegal."

"You can't call emotional discovery illegal."

"I can, and I will."

Yelena appears behind Alexei. "Did he find something?"

You narrow your eyes. "Were you both in the pantry?"

Yelena holds up a finger. "Different reasons."

"That doesn't make it better."

She looks at your hands. Her face lights up. "Ah. Romantic thumb."

John points at her. "Don't name it."

"Already did."

By the next morning, romantic thumb is on the whiteboard.

John tries to erase it. Yelena slaps his hand away with the marker. "Documentation matters."

"Our privacy matters," John says.

"You lost privacy when you communicated soup danger in front of the group."

"That's not legally binding."

Ava walks by, glances at the board, and says, "Romantic thumb sounds like a medical condition."

Bob gives two thumbs sideways.

Bucky grunts.

John points at him. "Exactly."

You look at John. "What'd he say?"

"That he agrees."

Bucky grunts again.

John's mouth twitches. "Okay, fine. He said, 'Stop translating me.'"

"You're enjoying this too much," you tell him.

"I'm finally good at languages."

"You know English and Barnes."

"And you."

Your expression softens before you can stop it. John realizes what he said at the exact same time you do.

The kitchen goes very quiet.

From the table, Bob slowly gives two thumbs up.

Ava taps her spoon once, but gently this time.

Yelena whispers, "This is cinema."

Bucky sighs through his nose.

John clears his throat and looks down at the counter.

You nudge his boot with yours. He nudges back. A tiny thing. A private thing.

Naturally, everyone notices.

Alexei walks in carrying a bowl of cereal, sees the room, sees your feet, and gasps. "Foot language!"

"No," you and John say together.

"Too late," Yelena says, writing.

Things devolve from there. The team develops too many systems.

Yelena's whistle language becomes impossible because she keeps changing meanings based on "emotional texture."

Ava's spoon code spreads outside meals. She starts carrying one in her jacket pocket like a weaponized utensil.

Bob's thumb system becomes official enough that Valentina asks him for a mission status and he responds with one thumb up, one thumb sideways, and a nervous smile.

Bucky's grunts are translated by John against Bucky's will.

Alexei creates a full-body communication system that involves poses.

His "danger" pose looks like stretching.

His "snack shortage" pose looks like grief.

His "team unity" pose looks like he's about to throw a couch.

Nobody likes it, but everybody understands it. That's the problem.

During one mission briefing, Valentina pauses mid-sentence when she realizes nobody has spoken for almost four minutes.

Yelena whistles.

Ava taps her spoon.

Bob gives one thumb sideways.

Bucky grunts.

Alexei strikes a pose by the window.

John makes a small sound.

You murmur, "Ceiling weather."

The entire team shifts positions at once.

Valentina lowers her folder. "What just happened?"

"Nothing," John says.

"You all just had a staff meeting without words."

"That's efficient," you say.

"No. That's unsettling."

Alexei holds his pose. "It's unity."

"It's a communications hazard."

Bucky grunts.

John says, "He disagrees."

Bucky points at John without looking.

John says, "And he'd like me to stop."

Valentina stares. "You can understand him?"

"Unfortunately," Ava says, "yes."

Valentina looks at you next. "And what does ceiling weather mean?"

You shrug. "Depends."

"On what?"

"The ceiling."

She closes her eyes. "I hate this team."

Yelena whistles twice.

Bob gives two thumbs up.

Ava taps her spoon.

Alexei changes pose.

Bucky grunts.

John leans toward you. "Parking lot rules?"

You glance at Valentina's slowly tightening grip on her folder. "Parking lot rules."

Valentina points at the door. "Everyone out."

Nobody moves.

Ava taps her spoon once.

Everyone gets up.

Valentina looks horrified. "Did the spoon just outrank me?"

"Yes," Yelena says.

"Absolutely," you say.

John nods. "Clean chain of command."

Valentina throws the folder onto the table. "No more nonverbal communication during briefings."

Bucky grunts.

John opens his mouth.

Valentina points at him. "Translate that and I'll assign you to Wilson for a month."

John shuts his mouth.

You lean in and whisper, "Sam's squad."

John shudders. "Don't joke."

The ban lasts twenty-two minutes.

It breaks because Alexei tries to ask Bob to pass the potatoes at dinner without speaking, using only his "snack shortage" pose.

Bob misreads it as "emotional injury" and tries to hug him.

Ava taps her spoon.

Yelena whistles.

Bucky grunts.

John translates Bucky.

You say, "Soup is armed."

Valentina walks in, sees everyone frozen around a bowl of mashed potatoes, and walks right back out.

For a while, it's just funny. Stupid funny. Tower funny.

The kind of funny that sticks to the walls and makes the place feel less like a government-funded mistake and more like something almost warm.

Then one night, after a bad mission, it becomes something else.

Nobody talks much after you get back.

There's blood on John's sleeve that isn't his. Dirt on your cheek. A bruise blooming along Bob's jaw. Bucky's left hand keeps flexing like he's still waiting for a fight to come back.

The common room is quiet. Not peaceful, just tired.

Ava sits on the floor with her back against the couch. Yelena is beside her, knees pulled up, a bag of chips unopened in her lap. Alexei stands at the window, arms crossed. Bob is curled in the corner of the sofa, both thumbs tucked into his fists.

John stands near the kitchen.

You're by the table.

His eyes find yours across the room.

No smugness. No joke. No performance.

Just John.

He lifts his chin slightly.

You breathe in.

He taps two fingers once against his wrist.

Not food theft, not this time.

You know what he means.

You okay?

You give him one slow blink.

Not really.

His jaw tightens.

Bucky grunts softly from the couch.

Everyone looks at him.

Then tilts his head toward you.

John understands before anyone else does.

Go.

John crosses the room.

No one jokes. No one writes it down. No one whistles.

He reaches you and holds out his hand.

You take it.

Palm.

Knuckles.

Thumb.

He doesn't kiss you yet. He just holds your hand between both of his and rests his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes.

Behind you, Bob gives one small thumbs up.

Ava doesn't tap her spoon.

Yelena doesn't write anything down.

Alexei sniffles loudly and pretends he doesn't.

Bucky grunts one more time.

John exhales a soft laugh against your forehead. "He says we're annoying."

You laugh too, but it comes out shaky.

Bucky mutters, "That one was obvious."

The room loosens just a little.

Later, when everyone starts drifting away, you and John stay behind in the kitchen.

The city shines outside the windows, all glass and gold and late-night traffic.

John leans against the counter beside you. "You okay?" he asks.

You look at him. "You already asked."

His brows pull together. "No, I didn't."

You tap two fingers against your wrist.

His expression softens. "Oh."

You bump your shoulder against his. "I like that one."

He nods. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He looks down at your hands, then holds his out. "Think it needs an answer."

You slide your palm against his. "An answer?"

"For when you aren't okay."

Your fingers curl around his.

His thumb brushes your knuckles.

You think about jokes. About soup. About ceiling weather. About all the ridiculous, cobbled-together ways you've learned to find each other across rooms and chaos and bad days.

Then you press your thumb gently against the inside of his wrist.

Once.

His breath catches.

"There," you say quietly.

John looks at you like you've handed him something fragile and glowing. "That means stay?" he asks.

You nod. "It means stay."

His thumb settles over yours. "Okay," he says. "I can do that."

You smile. "You're good at that."

"I'm good at you."

Your heart does something ridiculous again.

From somewhere behind the couch, Alexei sobs, "Beautiful!"

John's head drops forward.

You close your eyes. "Why is he always hiding?"

Yelena pops up from behind the couch beside him. "He's not hiding. We're observing."

Ava appears from the hallway holding her spoon. "I told them this was weird."

Bob peeks over the back of the couch with both thumbs up.

Bucky stands in the doorway, arms crossed. "I was dragged into this."

"No, you weren't," Yelena says.

He grunts.

John points at him. "That means yes, he was."

Bucky glares.

Valentina's voice calls from down the hall. "I swear to God, if anyone has invented another language, I'm transferring all of you."

Alexei whispers, "Workers' rights language still pending."

Ava raises the spoon.

Everyone shuts up.

You look at John.

John looks at you.

One blink.

One hum.

A tiny smile.

He squeezes your hand.

You press your thumb to his wrist.

Stay.

He leans down and kisses you softly.

From the hallway, Valentina sighs. "I heard that."

John pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth, "How do you hear a kiss?"

You grin. "Face espionage."

Yelena gasps. "She said it!"

Alexei cheers.

Bob gives two thumbs up.

Ava taps her spoon twice, which apparently means applause now.

Bucky grunts, which John wisely doesn't translate.

And because the room is already lost, because this team has never once known when to leave well enough alone, because John Walker is still unbearable and you're still no better, you point at him.

He points back.

Palm.

Knuckles.

Thumb.

Kiss.

Then you both turn toward the others and click your tongues once.

The entire room freezes.

Yelena's eyes widen. "What does that one mean?"

John smiles.

You smile too.

"Classified," you say.

John nods. "Severely."

“In order to be a good PR couple, we have to be good at couple-y things.” you said certainly to him.

Mattheo wasn’t quite sure where you got the idea of what made a couple from—nor was he sure where you got the chalkboard and pointer stick you were currently holding. What he did know was that the scene was rather funny.

“What defines couple-y things then?” he asked you with a smirk. “Public kisses? Matching hoodies?”

You nodded seriously, tapping the pointer stick at a pyramid you had made. “At the bottom of this pyramid is the physical contact that will drive people wild. Kisses, hand-holding, ear-whispers. The likes and stuff.”

Mattheo nodded back. “What about the middle of the pyramid?”

“That’s for things like opening doors and stuff. Not necessarily needed, but gentleman-y gestures nonetheless. But these—“ you said, hitting the top of the pyramid. “Are the most important parts. Just the cherry on top things that truly seal the deal.”

“I suppose we should start with the bottom, then?” he asked you. 

“Kissing first.” you said to him. “You need to be comfortable with it.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes just so, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’re a better manager than just my actual manager, y’know that?”

“Don’t even start.” you groaned. You sat down on his lap and wrapped your hands around his cheeks, able to feel the way that his blood rushed to his face. “We should just make out.”

“Yeah?” he muttered out. “Right now?”

“Right now.” you smirked at him, pressing his hands to your waist before cupping his neck. “So kiss me.”

Mattheo’s lips were pressed against yours before he could even register it, tongues mixing together like they were meant to be one. His hands squeezed your hips as he tried to ground himself—lips pressing harder and harder against you. 

You had a taste that was almost electric, like a shockwave being sent through his systems that he couldn’t quite control. Maybe he would compare it to the high that drugs give him, but he wasn’t sure even that could do you any justice. 

“You kiss good.” you smirked at him, winking as his hands tightened their grip once more. “Where’d you learn that tongue trick?”

“Drunk night clubs.” he murmured, eyes still focused on your lips. There was something about the curve of them that seemed so addictive to it, the slight redness poking out from where he had just bitten. “More?”

“More.” you agreed, a smirk growing on your lips.

hello everyone, i hope you guys enjoyed! just another small rockstar mattheo drabble, nothing too fancy about it. thanks so much for reading!

nav . masterlist . library blog . side blog

I woke up before my alarm, stared at the ceiling for three full minutes, and tried to remember what part of yesterday had been real. TWICE had visited the Top Floor. ITZY had signed the NDAs. Jihyo had revealed the TWICE arrangement with John. Mina and I had almost been accused of planning a polite corporate takeover. Ryujin had demonstrated things with couch cushions. Yuna had narrated her first time like a coming-of-age film with legal protection. Nayeon had asked John to punish her in front of everyone. I had smoked. Yeji had kissed me in front of the room. Then told me that was the last kiss I would get if I didn’t stop smoking.

Then I had apparently survived dinner, tattoo accusations, almost-wife allegations, and an impending temporary tattoo appointment that now involved Yeji choosing placement and font.

I closed my eyes “Outstanding.”

Beside me, Yeji shifted. Not fully awake yet. But awake enough “You’re thinking too loudly.” I turned my head. She was lying on her side, hair loose against the pillow, eyes still half-closed but already judging me with terrifying accuracy “I am silently suffering.”

“You do that loudly.” “That feels unfair.” “You earned unfair.”

I smiled despite myself. She opened one eye “Don’t look cute. I’m still mad.”

“That implies I look cute.”

“Benjie.” I immediately stopped smiling. Mostly. Yeji sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket around herself. The morning light softened her face, but not enough to hide the fact that she was already preparing herself for the day.

Leader mode. Girlfriend mode. Wife voice in reserve. Terrifying combination “We need a gameplan,” she said. I pushed myself up against the headboard “For JYP?”

“For everything.”

That was worse because it was correct. She counted on her fingers “JYP. The retreat cover. Mina and the money. John and Jihyo’s role. The tattoo appointment. Yuna’s vacation plan. Ryujin not committing crimes. Chaeryeong and Lia shopping. And you not buying another establishment because someone annoys you.” I looked at her “That last one feels targeted.”

“It is.” “Good to know.”

Yeji reached for her phone and checked the time “We leave in two hours.”

“For JYP.”

“For JYP first,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “Then Frankie.” I had made the mistake of telling her the tattoo artist’s name last night. Now she said it like someone had entered a witness protection list “It’s temporary,” I reminded her.

“And I choose placement.” “You choose placement.” “And font.” “And no portrait.”

“No portrait.” “And no wedding date.” “For now.”

She turned her whole head toward me. I looked away “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” She threw a pillow at me. I caught it. That was when the bedroom door opened without permission. Ryujin leaned in “Are you decent?” Yeji clutched the blanket higher “Ryujin!” Ryujin looked at her. Then at me. Then at the pillow in my hands.

“Emotionally, no. Physically, probably.” “Get out,” Yeji said. “I’m here for the morning briefing.” “There is no morning briefing in our bedroom.” “Our?”

The silence changed. Ryujin’s smile widened. Yeji closed her eyes “Leave.” Ryujin pointed into the room “She said our.”

“I heard it,” Yuna called from the hallway. Lia’s voice followed, tired and resigned “Everyone heard it.” Chaeryeong added softly, “I was trying not to.” I looked at Yeji. Yeji looked at me. Her face turned pink before she pulled the blanket over her head. Ryujin grinned.

“Great. Breakfast in ten. Your wife has assignments.” “I am not his wife!” Yeji shouted from under the blanket. “Yet!” Yuna shouted back.

Ryujin closed the door before Yeji could throw the second pillow. I sat very still. Under the blanket, Yeji said, “Do not laugh.”

“I would never.” “You’re smiling.” “I am emotionally licensed to be happy.”

The blanket lowered just enough for one eye to glare at me.

“I hate that sentence.” “You loved it last night.” “I tolerated it under duress.” “Marriage duress?”

The pillow hit me directly in the face.

Breakfast was less a meal and more a tactical deployment. Yuna had taken over one side of the kitchen island with a notebook, a tablet, two pens, and the expression of a woman who had been given responsibility and planned to make it everyone else’s problem. Chaeryeong was checking the pantry. Lia was making a list on her phone. Ryujin was eating cereal directly from the box again, which meant civilization had already failed. Yeji sat beside me, still radiating mild anger, while pretending she was not leaning close enough for her knee to brush mine.

I accepted this as progress. Yuna tapped her pen against the notebook “Okay. Vacation pitch.”

“No,” Lia said immediately. Yuna frowned “You haven’t heard it.” “You started with a title voice.” “It needs a title.” “It needs JYP approval first.” Yuna waved a hand “Details.” “They are not details,” Chaeryeong said from inside the pantry. Yuna ignored that “I am preparing the vacation activities pitch for everyone. If we’re getting a week—” “If,” I said. Yuna looked at me “When.” “That is not better.” “It is more confident.” “It is more dangerous.”

Ryujin lowered the cereal box “What if JYP says no?” Yuna looked personally offended “Then Ben and Mina accidentally become a problem again.” Yeji turned toward her “Yuna.”

“What? I said accidentally.” Lia looked at me over her cup “Your influence is terrible.” “I have been saying that.”

Chaeryeong came out of the pantry with a haunted expression “Momo sunbaenim ate everything.” Ryujin nodded solemnly “Biblical.” Chaeryeong looked genuinely distressed “I stocked for three days.” “She is TWICE’s final boss,” Yuna said. “Momo is not a final boss,” Lia said. “She ate like one,” Ryujin replied. Chaeryeong looked at me “I need to restock.”

“Use my card.” Yeji turned toward me immediately. I lifted both hands “Not buying the grocery store. Just groceries.” She watched me for a second. Then nodded “For now.” I sent a quick message to my accountant. Before I could put the phone down, it buzzed. I read the reply and sighed. Lia noticed “What?” “My accountant says he is happy to oblige as long as the shopping request is from Chaeryeong.”

Yuna slowly looked up from her notebook “Excuse me?” I read the message aloud “‘If it is Ms. Chaeryeong, absolutely. Please tell her she may purchase whatever pantry supplies she needs. If it is Ms. Yuna, I require itemized pre-approval after the spa incident.’”

The kitchen erupted. Yuna’s mouth dropped open “That was one time.” Lia looked at her “It was not one time.”

“It was one spa arc.” Ryujin pointed at her “You traumatized the man.” “I improved his exposure to luxury wellness.” “You submitted a reimbursement request that had aromatherapy candles categorized as emotional infrastructure.” Yuna lifted her chin “They were.”

Chaeryeong looked between us “Should I itemize?”

“No,” I said. “Buy everything you need.” My phone buzzed again. I glanced down “He added a smiley face for you.” Chaeryeong blinked “For me?”

“Yes.”

Yuna gasped “He never sends me smiley faces.” Lia sipped her drink “That is because you send him invoices that make him question morality.” Yuna pointed at her “You’re also going shopping.” Lia nodded “For vacation needs.” I forwarded her accountant access too. A second later, my phone buzzed again. I read it “‘Approved for Ms. Lia. Sensible purchases expected.’” Yuna slapped the table “This is discrimination.”

“It is pattern recognition,” I said. Ryujin leaned over “What does he say about me?” I stared at her “You are not shopping.” She looked offended “Why?”

“Because your assignment is to try not to do any damage that can’t be undone.” Ryujin froze. Then slowly smiled “That leaves a lot of room.”

“No, it does not.” “It does if you’re creative.” “Ryujin.”

Yeji finally spoke, calm and dangerous. “Do not make me assign you to JYP aegyo TikTok preparation.” Ryujin sat down immediately “Understood.” Yuna whispered, “Wife authority.” Yeji pointed at her without looking “I heard that.” Yuna went back to writing. I stood and adjusted my watch “Yeji is coming with me to JYP.” Everyone looked up. Ryujin grinned “For emotional support?”

“Yes.” Yeji blinked. I continued, “I need my wife around for emotional support during this coup.” The room froze. Yeji turned bright red “Ben.” Ryujin screamed. Yuna nearly fell off her chair. Lia closed her eyes like she had been spiritually defeated. Chaeryeong looked down, smiling despite herself. I corrected smoothly “Jokingly.”

“That correction came too late,” Lia said. Ryujin pointed at Yeji “She reacted before the correction.” Yuna nodded “She liked it.” “I did not like it,” Yeji said.

I looked at her. She looked at me. I smiled. She kicked my ankle under the table, then her hand found mine anyway.

We left before Ryujin could make it worse. Unfortunately, the day had already decided worse was the theme. JYP’s office felt different when there were five of us walking in. Jihyo first, because she had the folder. John beside her, because suffering was apparently his full-time position. Mina behind them, quiet and composed, carrying no visible threat but somehow radiating legal consequences. Then Yeji and me.

JYP was already seated when we entered. He looked from Jihyo to John. Then Mina. Then Yeji. Then to me.  His expression settled into the weary calm of a man watching a storm arrive with paperwork “Why do I feel,” he said slowly, “that this meeting will cost me money?” John muttered, “Because you’re learning.”

Jihyo elbowed him lightly. I bowed “Thank you for seeing us.” JYP looked at me “Benjamin, when you speak politely, I become extremely more concerned.”

“That feels unfair.”

“It is experience.” Mina took a seat without being asked. JYP looked at her. Then at me. Then at Jihyo’s folder. His eyes narrowed “You brought both of them…” Jihyo smiled “I brought structure.” JYP did not smile back “You brought financial equivalent of a small country.” Mina blinked. I blinked. John whispered, “He’s not wrong.” JYP pointed at him.“Do not help them.”

Jihyo opened the folder “We are proposing a senior-junior wellness retreat.” JYP stared at the folder “For TWICE and ITZY.”

“Yes.” “For how long?”

I answered before anyone else could “One week.” Mina said nothing. Yeji sat beside me, straight-backed and composed, looking every bit like the leader who had walked into meetings like this for years and survived worse rooms than this one. JYP looked at the proposal. Then at me. “One week?”

“Yes.” “And the purpose?”

Jihyo took over “Recovery, mentorship, privacy, and controlled decompression after Waterbomb. Publicly, it becomes a senior-junior wellness retreat. TWICE and ITZY. Company-approved. Clean narrative. No speculation.”

JYP listened. He did not interrupt, that somehow felt worse.

Jihyo continued “Schedules would need adjustment. Staff compensation would need coverage. Transportation, security, lodging, privacy, and contingency logistics would all be handled externally.”

“Externally,” JYP repeated. I nodded “I’ll cover ITZY.” Mina nodded “I’ll cover TWICE.”

JYP closed his eyes. John leaned toward him “That reaction is normal.” JYP opened his eyes again “How much?” I slid the estimate forward. Mina placed a second document beside it. JYP looked at the numbers, then he looked at us. Then looked at the estimates again. His face did not change. But his soul did. “You are both insane.”

Mina’s expression remained calm “The numbers are conservative.”

“That makes it worse”. I nodded “It does, actually.” JYP looked at me “You are agreeing with me?”

“On accounting language, yes”. JYP leaned back “I have concerns.”

“Expected,” Jihyo said.

“Good. Then expect many.” He lifted one finger. “First. Moving schedules for one week is already difficult.”

“Yes,” Jihyo said. “Second. Moving both TWICE and ITZY creates speculation.” “We have a cover plan.” “Third. A private location reduces risk but does not remove risk.” “Agreed,” Mina said. “Fourth.” His eyes moved to me. “I do not like how Ben solves everything by means financial flashbanging.”

Yeji’s posture shifted. I looked down. JYP noticed. His voice softened by one degree “I am not saying the care is wrong. I am saying the method is dangerous.”

“I know,” I said. “Do you?”

Yeji answered before I could “He does.” Everyone looked at her. She sat straight. Calm. Leader-like “He knows. That is why he did not come alone.”

That landed. On JYP. On me. On everyone. Yeji continued “ITZY can keep working. We can keep performing. We can keep smiling and doing schedules. But that does not mean we are okay.” Jihyo’s expression softened. Mina watched Yeji quietly. JYP’s face changed.

Not much, but enough. Yeji took a breath “The Top Floor helped. Ben helped. But it is still attached to everything. The building. The schedule. The pressure. Staff. Reports. Calls. We need space away from all of it before we start treating containment like recovery.”

Silence.

Then JYP looked at me “You said that?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Lia did.” His eyes shifted “Smart girl.”

“Yes”. JYP looked at the folder again. Then at Mina, towards me, then at Jihyo. For a moment, nobody spoke. He tapped one finger against the desk. Once. Twice. Then he said “No”. John whispered, “Here we go.” Yeji’s hand tightened slightly on her knee. Mina was reaching for something in her bag, I leaned forward “Sir—”

“One week is not enough.” The room completely stopped. Jihyo blinked. John’s head snapped toward JYP. Mina’s hand was still in her bag, and her expression did not change but her eyes sharpened. I stared at him.

JYP leaned back in his chair like a man who had decided the best way to survive a storm was to control where it landed “I will give you two.” Nobody moved. John was the first to fail “Wait. That worked?” JYP pointed at him “Do not make me regret this faster.” Jihyo recovered first “Two weeks?”

JYP nodded “If this is recovery, one week will become a countdown. The first three days will be spent adjusting, the last two preparing to return, and everyone will pretend the middle was enough. Two weeks gives them time to settle. It also gives the company one clean explanation instead of repeated schedule reshuffling.”

I stared. Mina nodded slowly “Efficient.” JYP pointed at her “And that brings me to the conditions.” John whispered, “Peace treaty.”

JYP ignored him. “First. You cover all costs.” “Done,” I said. “Split,” Mina added. JYP’s eye twitched.

“Second. Staff compensation, schedule adjustment fees, security, lodging, transportation, medical standby, privacy measures, and contingency costs will be covered before anyone leaves, and anything else that comes up regarding you ‘retreat’ in any form.” “Done,” I said. “Split,” Mina said again. JYP rubbed his forehead.

“Third. Legal documentation.” Jihyo lifted her pen “Expected.” “No,” JYP said. “Not only for the retreat.” The room shifted. His eyes moved to Mina. Then to me.

 “Both of you will sign an agreement that neither of you, alone, together, directly, indirectly, emotionally, financially, strategically, through shell entities, friends, family offices, investment vehicles, private holding companies, anonymous proxies, or any other creative nightmare you can invent, will attempt to acquire, influence, pressure, restructure, destabilize, or otherwise interfere with JYPE.”

Silence. Absolute. John slowly turned toward me. I looked at Mina. Mina looked at me. JYP slapped one palm lightly on the desk “Do not look at each other like that.”

John whispered, “Oh my God.” Jihyo covered her mouth. Not to hide shock. To hide laughter. Yeji stared at me “Ben.” I looked at her “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought something.” “That is not illegal.”

JYP pointed at me “It will be if I ask legal.” Mina tilted her head “Restructuring is not inherently destabilizing.” John stood halfway “No.” Mina looked at him “What?”

“You are proving why he needs the clause”. JYP nodded “She is.” Mina paused. Then folded her hands again “Reasonable.” I looked at her “Reasonable?” She looked back “Under the circumstances.”

John pointed between us “See? This is exactly what terrifies everyone. You two just negotiated not buying the company like normal people discuss not ordering dessert.”

JYP looked exhausted “Fourth. If anyone asks, this retreat is company-approved. Not Ben-approved. Not Mina-approved. Company-approved.” Jihyo nodded “That protects the narrative.”

“Fifth. No public-facing signs of anything that makes me need a medical team before noon.” John muttered, “That is broad.” “It needs to be.”

JYP looked at each of us “Two weeks. Costs covered. Legal agreement. Company-approved narrative. No corporate interference. No public scandal.” He paused “Do we understand?”

Jihyo nodded “Yes.” Mina nodded “Yes.” I nodded “Yes.” John nodded “With fear.” Yeji nodded “With supervision.”

JYP looked at her for a second. Then, for the first time, smiled faintly “Good. Someone has to.”

The meeting ended with more signatures than I liked. Mina signed the anti-interference clause without hesitation. I signed after reading every line, mostly because JYP watched me like I might discover a loophole mid-stroke. Which was offensive— not entirely inaccurate. But offensive.

John read over my shoulder and whispered “No shell companies.” “I can read.” “No emotional acquisitions.” “That is not a legal term.” “It is in spirit.”

Jihyo gathered the signed copies. Mina looked quietly satisfied. Yeji looked relieved. JYP looked like a man who had bought himself two weeks of peace by selling his legal department’s soul. As we stood, he looked at me one last time “Ben.”

“Yes, sir?” “No buying restaurants.”

Yeji’s head snapped toward me. I stared at JYP. John slowly turned. Jihyo closed her eyes. Mina blinked “How did you know about that?” JYP leaned back “I have instincts.” John whispered, “He’s evolving.” I bowed “No restaurants.” Yeji folded her arms.

“Or buildings.” “No buildings.” “Or companies.” “No companies.”

JYP looked between us. Then sighed “Good luck.” I frowned “With the retreat?” His eyes moved to Yeji “With you.”

We left before Yeji could agree too enthusiastically. In the hallway, John exhaled like he had been holding his breath since 2023 “Two weeks.” Jihyo looked at the folder “Two weeks.” Mina adjusted her bag “Efficient outcome.” John pointed at her “You are banned from saying efficient for the rest of the day.” Mina pouted at John “Why?”

“Because every time you say it, someone signs away corporate sovereignty.”

I looked at Jihyo “I did offer for you to come with us.” Jihyo looked up “To the tattoo appointment?”

“Yes.” John immediately stiffened. Jihyo’s smile turned slow “No.” John relaxed. Then she added “If I went, I would end up making John get one too.” John stopped breathing. Nayeon was not even there, but somehow I felt her approval in the universe. Jihyo continued calmly “All nine names.” John looked at her “You would not.” Jihyo looked back “I absolutely would.” He stared at her. Then looked at me “Help.”

I lifted both hands “No. If Jihyo decided that, you would have no way out.” John looked horrified because he knew it was true. Mina looked thoughtful “All nine names would require planning.” John pointed at her “Stop contributing feedback to the tattoos.” Jihyo smiled sweetly “Relax. I’m not going.”

“That does not make me feel safe.” “It should not.”

We separated at the parking level. Jihyo and Mina headed back toward the company wing to begin the official retreat paperwork. John, Yeji, and I headed for the tattoo shop. Or as John called it “Evidence creation.”

Frankie’s studio was private by design. No walk-ins. No visible signage. No social media tags unless he approved them himself. The kind of place that looked like nothing from the outside and too expensive from the inside. John still looked ready to scan the walls for cameras “This is insane,” he said as we entered “It is temporary ink.”

“You keep saying that like the problem is the ink.” Yeji was beside me, sunglasses on, cap low, mask in place. She looked like an idol trying not to be recognized. Which was accurate. She also looked like an angry girlfriend trying to pretend she was not excited— also accurate.

Frankie looked up from the counter. He was broad, tattooed up to his neck, with silver rings on three fingers and the expression of a man who had seen too much to be surprised by normal things. Then he saw Yeji. He stopped. Looked at me. Looked at Yeji, then back to me “Boss.”

“Frankie”. He blinked once. “When you said Yeji, you meant Yeji—Yeji.” Yeji stiffened. John’s soul visibly exited his body. I nodded “Yes.” Frankie stared for half a second longer. Then sighed “Honestly? Baffled. Not surprised.” John turned toward me “That is not comforting.” Frankie looked at John “You must be John.” John’s eyes widened “Why do you know that?”

“Boss said a tired manager might come in sweating through his spine.” I looked away. John turned to me “You described me like a medical warning.”

“The Boss’ description was accurate”. Frankie lifted both hands before John could spiral “Before anyone panics, not a word leaves this room.” His tone changed. Less joking. More certain “I don’t post clients. I don’t talk clients. I don’t hint clients. I don’t leak clients. Especially not his.” He nodded toward me “I still remember what he did for me with that investment broker.” Yeji looked at me. John stiffened.

Frankie continued while setting out the temporary ink materials “Guy thought because he had money and connections, he could walk out on my bill. Boss asked for a name. Next thing I knew, the man who was at the top of the food chain in his line of work was now bussing tables for tips.”

John went pale “You kept tabs?” Frankie smiled “Of course I kept tabs.” Yeji slowly turned toward me “Benjie.” I sighed “Please do not start here.” Frankie looked between us. Then grinned “Oh, that’s the voice.” John pointed at him “You hear it too?”

“Man, I tattooed him through worse ideas than this. I know when his woman is the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.” Yeji turned pink “I am not—”

“His wife?” Frankie guessed. The room froze, Yeji stared, John made a helpless sound. I closed my eyes “Frankie.”

“What? Lucky guess.” “It was not a lucky guess.”

Frankie looked at Yeji “Girlfriend?” Yeji lifted her chin “Girlfriend.” Frankie nodded seriously “Understood. Girlfriend with wife privileges.” John whispered, “I hate how fast everyone gets there.”

Frankie slid a paper across the counter “If it gives you peace of mind, I’ll sign whatever. NDA. Confidentiality. Blood oath— well not literally, unless the boss is paying extra.” John grabbed the paper “Yes. Thank you.” I looked offended “You do not need that.” John was already reading “I absolutely need that.”

Frankie looked at me “With respect, boss, the people around you look like they rarely experience peace of mind.”

“That is unfair.” Yeji looked at me. John looked at me. Frankie looked at me. I sighed “Somewhat unfair.” Frankie laughed “That’s why I like you, boss. You have more money than a small country and yet you’re pretty much down to earth.”

John slid the confidentiality paper back “Sign.” Frankie signed without hesitation. Then slid it back “Better?” John clutched it like scripture “A little.” Frankie turned toward Yeji “Alright. Temporary chest piece. Original draft was ‘Ben + Yeji.’” Yeji immediately shook her head “No.”

Frankie nodded “Good. It was corny as hell.” I looked at him “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on the side of decent composition.” Yeji stepped closer to the stencil samples “It should be ‘Yeji + Ben’, that sounds and looks better.” I looked at her. John looked at her. Frankie looked at her, Yeji froze “What?” I smiled “Nothing.”

“You are smiling.” Yeji pointed out. “I am emotionally licensed.” “You are not.”

Frankie leaned over the page “Yeji + Ben balances better.” Yeji nodded, suddenly focused “And this font is too sharp.” Frankie blinked “Oh.”

John whispered, “She’s actually doing it.” Yeji ignored him “This one is better. Still readable but softer.” Frankie nodded “Good eye.” Her confidence grew “And little hearts.”

I slowly turned toward her “Little hearts?” She pointed at the paper like a woman commanding an army “Not big ones. Small. Around the names. Maybe one between.” Frankie looked at me, I looked at Yeji. Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes were serious. I shrugged “Whatever the wife wants, man.”

Yeji snapped toward me “Girlfriend.” Frankie lifted both hands “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants.” John muttered, “This is a disease.”

Yeji glared at both of us “I am choosing design quality.”

“Of course,” I said. “And preventing disaster.” “Obviously.” “And the hearts are ironic.”

Frankie looked at the hearts “They are not ironic.”

“They are artistically necessary,” Yeji corrected. Frankie smiled “I am not going to debate that.” then he glanced at me “So we’re using the gun, right?”

I paused “What?” Frankie lifted the machine from his station with a grin that immediately made me distrust him “Temporary ink through the gun. All the pain of a real tattoo, none of the permanence— it also makes the temporary ink last longer.” John slowly turned toward Frankie. For the first time all day, he looked hopeful “That is an option?”

Frankie nodded “Sure.” Yeji looked at the machine. Then at me. Then back at the machine “I like that option.” I stared at her “B-babe…”

“You wanted drama.” “I wanted temporary romance.” “You can have temporary romance with consequences.”

John pointed at Frankie “I like him now.”

“You hated this place thirty seconds ago.” “I have evolved.”

Frankie looked at me with no sympathy whatsoever “Boss, you did say whatever the wife wants, the wife gets.” Yeji lifted one finger “Girlfriend.” Frankie nodded. “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants, the girlfriend with wife privileges gets.” I stared at him “You just met her, Frankie...” Frankie shrugged with a grin “Composition has consequences, and I’m just following instructions”

John sat in the corner with the confidentiality paper in hand, looking like he had just found religion “This is the safest I have felt all day.”

“That is deeply offensive,” I said. Yeji crossed her arms “Shirt off.”

I looked at her. She looked back. Not smiling. But almost “Placement review,” she said.

“Of course.” Frankie prepared the stencil. Temporary. Harmless. Ridiculous. And now apparently painful because everyone I loved had betrayed me in under three minutes. Yeji watched every adjustment. Font. Spacing. Heart placement. Whether the plus sign looked too childish. Whether it should be slightly tilted. Whether the names should sit centered or angled over my chest.

Finally, Frankie held up the finished temporary stencil. Yeji studied it. Then nodded once “That one.” I looked at the design. Yeji + Ben. Small hearts. Soft font. Over the left side of my chest. Not too high. Not too obvious under normal clothes, exactly where she wanted it.

“Approved?” Frankie asked. Yeji crossed her arms “For temporary.” I smiled faintly “For now.” She turned toward me “Do not start.” Frankie applied the stencil. Then the machine started buzzing. I looked at him “You are enjoying this.”

Frankie smiled “A lil’ bit.” The needle touched skin. I exhaled through my nose. John leaned forward. “How is it?” I glared at him “I can feel the love.”

“That does not answer the question.” “It answers enough.”

Yeji stood beside me, watching with far too much satisfaction for someone who claimed this was only damage control “You okay?” she asked. I looked at her “Yes.”

“Good.” “That sounded affectionate.” “It was.”

I smiled. Then the needle moved over a more sensitive patch. My smile died but Yeji’s smile grew. That was when I realized I was in love with a dangerous woman. Frankie worked quickly, but not quickly enough for my dignity. Temporary ink was nothing compared to the hours I had spent under real needles, but the room treated it like I was signing a marriage contract on my skin— which, given the past twelve hours, was not entirely inaccurate.

When Frankie finished, he stepped back. “There.” Yeji went quiet. John lowered his eyes from the ceiling. Even he stopped joking. The temporary tattoo sat over my chest.

Yeji + Ben.

Small hearts. Ridiculous. Soft. What was supposed to be mine, now hers too. Temporary… for now. Yeji stared at it for a little too long. Then looked away “It’s stupid.”

I smiled “You like it.” “I hate it.” “You like it.” “Benjie.”

Frankie nodded “She likes it.” John pointed at him “Do not join him.” Frankie shrugged “I know happy panic when I see it.” Yeji covered her face “I hate everyone today.” I pulled my shirt back on slowly enough that she noticed. Her eyes narrowed “You did that on purpose.”

“Yes.” “At least you are honest.”

John stood “Great. We have evidence, paperwork, temporary body art, pain compliance, and no leaks. Can we leave before he buys the building?” Frankie looked at me “You want to buy the building?”

“No,” Yeji said immediately. I looked at her “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought of something.” “That is not illegal.” “It will be if I ask JYP.”

John pointed at her “Good. Use that.” Frankie walked us to the private exit. Before we left, he looked at Yeji “For what it’s worth, I really won’t say anything.” Yeji’s expression softened “Thank you.” Frankie nodded. Then looked at me “And boss?”

“What?” “If the permanent one happens after the wedding, please let her choose the font again.”

Yeji made a strangled sound, John pushed the door open “We’re leaving.” I smiled “You can ink it in front of the crowd during the wedding, Frankie.”

“Benjie!”

We left the studio with John muttering about confidentiality, Yeji pretending not to look at my chest every few seconds, and me feeling strangely lighter than I probably deserved. Outside, John stopped beside the car “Tomorrow we are turning JYP’s private approval into an operational nightmare.”

“We got approval.” “We got private approval. Now we need schedule coordination, staff instructions, cover story consistency, security routing, and whatever additional clause JYP invents because you keep revealing new problems.”

Yeji looked at me “No new problems.” I nodded “No new problems.” My phone buzzed. All three of us looked down. Yuna had sent a message to the group chat.

YUNA: Vacation plan draft ready. Do we think “Healing Retreat” sounds too boring? I have alternatives. RYUJIN: Call it Hostile Wellness. LIA: Absolutely not. CHAERYEONG: I restocked the pantry. Please do not invite Momo unnie again without warning. NAYEON: I vote Hostile Wellness.

John stared at the phone “When did Nayeon get into this chat?” I looked at Yeji. Yeji looked at me. Neither of us answered, John closed his eyes “I hate all of you.”

Yeji looked at my chest again. Just once. Then looked away. I smiled. She pointed at me “Do not look excited.” Too late. Tomorrow, we would begin turning the retreat from permission into reality.

Two weeks, TWICE and ITZY. JYP-approved. Legally protected against hostile rich-people nonsense. Publicly wholesome. Privately impossible. And tonight, apparently, I had survived the temporary tattoo appointment… Mostly.

Yeji slid into the car beside me and muttered “Show me again when we get home.” I looked at her. She stared out the window, cheeks pink “For placement review.”

John made a sound from the front seat like his soul had finally quit. I smiled “Of course, you can look at it anytime you want.” Because apparently, the easier problem had still found a way to ruin us.

By the time we returned to the Top Floor, the place had somehow become a headquarters.

Not officially. Officially, nothing was happening yet. Officially, the retreat still needed final schedule coordination, staff routing, transport assignments, cover story alignment, and whatever corporate language Jihyo planned to use to make “two groups of idols disappearing into privacy with two managers and too much money” sound like wellness.

Unofficially, Yuna had already taken over the main table. There were papers everywhere.

A tablet. Three pens. A color-coded list. A separate page titled POSSIBLE ACTIVITIES, with the word “Hostile Wellness” crossed out so aggressively it had almost torn through the paper. Ryujin was lying sideways on the couch, looking suspiciously proud of herself. Lia sat near the kitchen with shopping bags at her feet, calm in the way people became after surviving war. Chaeryeong was restocking the pantry with the solemn focus of someone rebuilding civilization after Momo.

TWICE had arrived again in clusters. Jihyo and Mina were already seated with the documents. Nayeon was too comfortable. Sana was too delighted. Dahyun was too ready.

Momo was already looking toward the pantry. Chaeryeong noticed and froze “No,” she said softly. Momo blinked. Chaeryeong immediately bowed her head “I mean… not yet.” Momo nodded, accepting the terms of war.

John stepped out of the elevator behind us and stopped “No.”

Jihyo looked up “What?” “This is a meeting.” “Yes.” “With everyone.” “Yes.” “After the day we’ve had.” “Yes.”

John looked at me “You did this.” “I did not.” “You created the conditions.” “That is different.”

Mina looked at the folder “It is structurally similar.” John pointed at her “You are still banned from helping.” Mina blinked “I was clarifying.”

“That is helping.” Yeji walked in beside me and immediately straightened. Leader mode returned as naturally as breathing. No hand-holding. No softness. No obvious girlfriend anything. Not because she was hiding from them anymore. Because this was the final meeting. And Yeji respected the difference. Unfortunately, the room did not.

Ryujin’s eyes moved from Yeji to me. Then to my shirt. Then back to my face. Slowly. Dangerously. I knew that look. I should have stopped there. I should have sat down quietly, let Jihyo take over, and avoided giving the room any reason to remember what had happened at Frankie’s studio. Instead, I chose violence. Not loudly. Not obviously. Just a tad bit enough.

I reached up, adjusted the collar of my shirt— acting like I was trying to fix something in my clothing, and let the fabric shift half an inch lower than necessary. Only for a second. Only enough. A small curve of temporary ink appeared near the left side of my chest. Not the whole thing. Not the hearts. Not even the full name. Just the beginning “Yej—"

Ryujin sat up so fast the couch cushion nearly slid with her. Yuna stopped writing. Nayeon’s mouth opened. Sana gasped. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone appeared out of pure instinct. Yeji turned toward me slowly. Very slowly. I looked straight ahead. Like an innocent man. John stared at me.

“You did not.” “I adjusted my shirt, can’t a man try to adjust for comfort?” “You exposed evidence.” “I adjusted my shirt.”

Ryujin pointed at me like she'd just solved a murder case “He did it.” Yuna slapped both hands over her mouth “He actually did it.” Nayeon stood halfway out of her seat “No, no, no. Show us the rest.”

“No,” Yeji said immediately.

Sana leaned forward “Yes.”

“No.” “Please?” “No.”

Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone “Breaking news: partial tattoo reveal causes immediate public demand for full disclosure.”

“I am not disclosing anything,” Yeji said. Mina glanced up from her folder “Technically, it is not your tattoo.” Yeji turned toward her “Mina…” “It is a factual statement.”

John stood there for another second, staring at me. Then his face changed. Not surprise— decision “Oh,” he said quietly. I looked at him “No… You did not?” He reached into his pocket “Yes.”

“JOHN.”

He pulled out his phone. I pointed at him “Don’t you fucking dare.” Yeji looked between us “What?” John was already connecting his phone to the television “I have documentation.”

The room froze. Then every head turned toward him. Yuna whispered, “Documentation?” Ryujin slowly rose from the couch like a spirit summoned by gossip “You recorded it?” John looked at me, completely shameless “For identity protection.”

“That is not why you recorded it.” “It began as identity protection.” “And then?”

John tapped his phone, the television came alive. Frankie’s studio appeared on the screen. There I was. Shirt off. Sitting under the lights. Frankie standing over me with the machine. Yeji beside me, arms folded, looking terrifyingly focused. The entire room went silent for exactly half a second.

Then the Top Floor detonated.

“OH MY GOD,” Yuna screamed. Ryujin grabbed a pillow and nearly threw it at the screen. Nayeon clapped once. Sana covered her mouth, delighted. Dahyun’s imaginary microphone returned with renewed purpose “Breaking news: private evidence enters public record.” Yeji turned scarlet “John!” John lifted both hands “You chose the hearts. They deserve context.”

“I chose them privately!” Nayeon gasped “She chose the hearts?” Ryujin spun toward Yeji “There are hearts?” Yuna looked ready to ascend “There are actual hearts?”

The video continued.

Frankie’s voice came through the speakers “Whatever the girlfriend with wife privileges wants.”

The room exploded again.

Yeji covered her face with both hands “I hate this.” Sana leaned toward Nayeon “Girlfriend with wife privileges.” Nayeon nodded solemnly “Accurate title.”

“I am not his wife,” Yeji said through her hands. Dahyun lifted the imaginary microphone “Sources confirm wife privileges remain under dispute.” Jihyo pressed her fingers to her forehead “I cannot believe this is the meeting.” Mina studied the screen with surprising seriousness “The stencil placement is tasteful.”

“Mina,” John said. “What? It is.”

Onscreen, Frankie lifted the machine “So we’re using the gun, right?” The room paused. Then my voice came through the TV “What?” Frankie grinned onscreen “Temporary ink through the gun. All the pain of a real tattoo, none of the permanence.”

Ryujin fell backward onto the couch. Yuna screamed again. Nayeon pointed at the screen “He suffered for it?” John turned toward everyone “He did.” I stared at him “You sound proud.”

“I am.”

Onscreen, Yeji said “I like that option.” The room turned toward her. Yeji lowered her hands just enough to glare at the floor “It was fair.”

“It was betrayal,” I said. “It was consequences.”

The video showed the needle touching skin. I exhaled through my nose onscreen. John, from the video, asked “How is it?” My recorded self glared “I can feel the love.”

The room lost whatever composure it had left.

Even Lia was laughing now. Quietly but visibly. Chaeryeong smiled behind one hand “That is actually kind of cute.” That somehow embarrassed Yeji more than the screaming “It was supposed to be damage control,” she mumbled. Ryujin pointed at the screen as Frankie finished “There. Pause it. Pause it there.”

John paused the video. The final shot froze on the temporary tattoo

“Yeji + Ben”

Small hearts. Soft font. Over the left side of my chest. Ridiculous. Embarrassingly sincere, and very, very visible.

Silence. For one full second.

Then “She picked the hearts!” Ryujin shouted. “I knew it,” Nayeon said. Sana clasped her hands “That is disgustingly cute.” Dahyun lifted the imaginary microphone “Breaking news: tattoo confirmed. Hearts confirmed. Victims include everyone present.” Momo nodded toward the screen “Frankie is good.” Mina nodded “The line work is excellent.”

“Mina,” John said again. “It is.”

Chaeryeong looked between me and Yeji. Then smiled softly “It’s actually really pretty.” Yeji’s shoulders dropped. Just a little “Thank you,” she mumbled. Ryujin immediately pointed at her “She likes it.”

“I picked it.” “You love it”. Yeji buried her face in both hands again. Yuna grabbed her notebook and began writing furiously. Lia saw it “Do not add tattoo evidence to the meeting minutes.”

Yuna paused. Then slowly crossed something out. John disconnected his phone from the TV and looked at me with the expression of a man who had done a public service. I stared at him.

“You betrayed me.” “You weaponized your chest first.” “You streamed my suffering.” “For transparency.” “This was not a government inquiry.”

Dahyun lifted a finger “It became one.” Jihyo finally opened the folder with enough force to silence most of the room “Meeting,” she said.

The room settled. Not because the chaos was finished. Because Jihyo had decided it was. That was different. She looked around the table “JYP approved the retreat.” Everyone froze for the second time. This time, it was not because of my chest. Yuna lowered her pen “The week?” Jihyo looked at me. I looked at Yeji. Yeji exhaled. Then said it “Two weeks.”

For half a second, nobody moved. Then the Top Floor detonated again.

Yuna screamed first. Ryujin shot upright. Sana clapped. Nayeon grabbed Dahyun’s arm. Momo looked pleased for reasons that were probably food-related. Chaeyoung laughed under her breath. Tzuyu smiled faintly. Chaeryeong stood frozen beside the pantry, holding a bag of rice like it had become emotionally significant. Lia closed her eyes and smiled. Just a little. Like relief had found her before she could stop it. Yuna pointed both pens at me “I knew it.”

“You knew nothing.” “I manifested it.” “You did not.” “She kind of did,” Ryujin said. “No,” Lia said. “Emotionally, yes.”

Jihyo tapped the folder “Two weeks with conditions.” That sobered the room enough. Not completely. Enough.

Mina spoke next, calm and precise.

“Costs are split. ITZY under Ben, TWICE under me. Staff compensation, transport, private lodging, security, medical standby, and contingency coverage are included.”

John leaned back “And because Ben and Mina scared JYP enough— they signed a legal promise not to buy, influence, restructure, destabilize, pressure, or creatively interfere with JYPE.”

Ryujin slowly turned toward me “You had to sign a no-coup paper?” I looked away “It was more nuanced than that.” Mina nodded “Barely.” Nayeon’s eyes widened “A no-coup paper.” Dahyun lifted her imaginary microphone again.

“Breaking news: wellness retreat approved after anti-takeover peace treaty.”

Jihyo pointed at her “Do not make that the title.” Yuna immediately wrote something. Lia leaned over “Yuna.” Yuna covered the page “It is not the title.”

“It is absolutely the title.”

Yeji glanced at me “No loopholes?” I looked offended. She waited. John waited. Jihyo waited. Mina looked mildly curious. I sighed.

“Ironclad, no active loopholes. I should have my lawyers check that.”

The room groaned. Yeji stared at me “Ben.”

“I am joking.” “Are you?” “Yes.”

Mina looked at me “Mostly.”

“Mina.” “What? Accuracy matters.”

John rubbed his face with both hands “I am begging one wealthy person in this room to be normal.” Mina and I said nothing. John lowered his hands “That was the worst possible response.”

Jihyo returned to the plan before the room could spiral again “We leave tomorrow morning. The official announcement goes out as an internal senior-junior wellness retreat. No public location. No livestreams. No staff posting. No casual hints. No accidental spoilers.”

Her eyes went to Nayeon. Nayeon gasped “Why me?”

“Because I know you.” “That is profiling.” “That is leadership.”

Dahyun raised one finger “What about creative hints?”

“No.” “Symbolic hints?” “No.” “What if the caption is just a cloud emoji?” “No.”

Sana smiled “What if it is two cloud emojis?” Jihyo closed the folder “No weather-related crimes.” Ryujin whispered to Yuna “She’s good.” Yuna nodded “Terrifying.”

Mina took over the logistics “The vans will meet in the private parking level. TWICE and ITZY will separate for departure routes, then converge outside the city. Phones stay normal until we reach the first checkpoint. After that, private devices only.”

Chaeryeong raised a hand slightly “Food?” Momo also raised a hand. Jihyo looked between them “Food has been accounted for.” Chaeryeong relaxed. Momo looked satisfied. Lia looked at Yuna’s activity sheet “What is ‘voluntary emotional sunrise session’?”

Yuna looked proud “It’s a wholesome bonding activity.” Ryujin leaned over “It says mandatory in parentheses.” “That was a draft note.”

Lia kept reading “And why does one item just say ‘Ben trial by water’?” Yuna took the paper back “Still workshopping.” Yeji turned toward me “No.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” “You looked interested.” “I did not.”

Ryujin grinned “He looked afraid.” “Good,” Yeji said.

The meeting moved faster after that. Mostly because Jihyo refused to let anyone rename the retreat. Yuna presented three activity categories: healing, bonding, and “things that would be funnier if Ben was involved.” Lia deleted the third category. Ryujin brought it back under a new title. Chaeryeong volunteered to help with meals and immediately became Momo’s favorite person again.

Nayeon suggested group games. John said no. Nayeon asked what kind. John said that was not what he meant. Sana asked if the retreat had couple activities. Jihyo told her to define couple. Sana smiled. Jihyo withdrew the question.

Eventually, the meeting ended not because everything was solved, but because everyone was too excited to be useful. That was enough. For now.

Jihyo stood, folder under one arm “Tomorrow morning. Parking level. Do not be late.” Mina looked at me “And do not buy anything overnight.” I frowned “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because you hear limits as suggestions,” John said. Yeji nodded “He does.” I looked at her. She smiled sweetly. It was not sweet. Jihyo started herding TWICE toward the elevator. Nayeon paused beside Yeji “So.”

Yeji looked at her suspiciously “What?” Nayeon pointed subtly at my chest “Did you choose the hearts?” Yeji’s face went red. Sana appeared behind Nayeon instantly “She chose the hearts?” Yeji closed her eyes “They were artistically necessary.”

Ryujin screamed from the couch “I knew it.” Yuna wrote something down again. Lia took the pen away. John looked at me “You see what you did?”

I adjusted my collar back into place “Leadership requires sacrifice.” “That was not leadership.” “It created morale.” “It created paperwork.” “Same thing today.”

John looked like he wanted to argue. Then realized I might be right. That hurt him more. The elevator doors closed on TWICE’s laughter. ITZY stayed behind for a while after. Not talking much. Just moving. Packing lists. Charging devices. Laundry. Small questions. Soft excitement. The kind that grew when nobody wanted to scare it by naming it too loudly.

Two weeks. It had sounded impossible yesterday. Now it was a departure time.

The next morning, the private parking level looked like the beginning of a secret operation badly disguised as company logistics. Two vans idled near the far end. Black. Tinted. Clean enough to look official and suspicious at the same time. Security stood in quiet positions near the exits.

Staff loaded bags with the mechanical precision of people who had been told not to ask questions and paid enough to obey.

TWICE arrived first.

Of course they did not arrive quietly. Nayeon stepped out of the elevator mid-sentence. Sana was laughing. Dahyun was carrying a small camera case that Jihyo immediately confiscated. “It is not for posting,” Dahyun said. “No.”

“It is for memories.” “No.” “It is off.” “No.”

Dahyun sighed and handed it over “Cruel.” Momo had a snack bag. Chaeryeong saw it and visibly relaxed. Jeongyeon noticed. “You brought backup food?” Chaeryeong nodded. Momo smiled at her like they had achieved peace between nations. Mina arrived last among TWICE, checking something on her phone. John saw her and immediately said “No more efficiency.” Mina blinked “I was checking route timing.”

“That sounds efficient.” “It is.”

John looked toward the ceiling “I am surrounded.”

ITZY gathered near the second van. Yuna had her vacation notebook tucked under one arm. Ryujin wore sunglasses indoors and refused to explain why. Lia looked comfortable enough to be dangerous. Chaeryeong had somehow packed snacks for both vans. Yeji stood beside me, arms folded, pretending not to be excited.

I noticed. Of course I noticed. She noticed me noticing.

“Do not say anything.” “I was not going to.” “You were.” “I was going to say you look happy.”

Her face softened despite herself. Then she looked away “I am.” That was enough to make the noise around us fade for half a second. Then Ryujin appeared beside us “Gross.”

Yeji sighed “You were not invited into this moment.” “I live here emotionally.” Yuna joined from the other side “Are we doing seating arrangements?”

John immediately straightened “No.” Nayeon smiled “Yes.”

Jihyo stepped between them with the authority of someone who had prevented wars before breakfast “Assigned vans. Assigned routes. Assigned silence until the first checkpoint.”

Ryujin lifted a hand “What about emotional noise?” “No.” Yuna lowered her notebook “What about activity planning?” “No.” Dahyun raised her hand “What about documenting no one talking?” Jihyo stared at her, Dahyun lowered her hand. “No.”

Mina glanced toward me “Did you remember the anti-interference clause?” I stared at her “Why would I need to remember it in a parking lot?” John pointed at me “Because you might see a toll booth and buy the highway.” Yeji turned to me immediately “You are not buying a highway.”

“I was not planning to buy a highway.” Yuna whispered, “Planning.” Lia nodded “He said planning.” Ryujin grinned “So spontaneous highway acquisition is still possible.”

“Everyone get in the vans,” Jihyo said. The command worked. Mostly. Bags were loaded. Doors opened. TWICE separated into their assigned vehicle with John, Jihyo, and Mina coordinating like this was normal. ITZY moved toward ours.

Before Yeji stepped in, she looked at me. Her eyes dropped once. Very briefly. To my chest. Then back up “Is it covered?” “Yes.” “Fully?” “Mostly.” “Benjie.” “It is covered.”

Ryujin, already inside the van, leaned toward the open door “What’s covered?” “Nothing,” Yeji and I said at the same time. Yuna gasped “Tattoo.” Lia closed her eyes “Too early.” Chaeryeong climbed in quietly, smiling to herself.

John shouted from the other van “If I see even one letter during travel, I am filing a report.” Nayeon’s voice followed “Make sure it’s Yej—” the rest of her sentence vanished when Jihyo shut the van door.

Yeji looked at me. I looked at her. For once, I behaved. I buttoned the top of my overshirt. She smiled. Small. Proud “Good boy.”

From inside the van, Ryujin screamed “I heard that.” Yuna laughed. Lia sighed. Chaeryeong made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh too. I looked at Yeji. She looked back, cheeks pink but chin lifted. Then she stepped into the van. I followed. The door slid shut.

For a moment, the world became tinted glass, low engine vibration, quiet breathing, and the strange realization that we had actually made it this far. Two weeks. TWICE and ITZY. Company-approved. Legally anti-takeover protected. Publicly wholesome. Privately impossible.

The van started moving. Yeji’s hand found mine between the seats. No one said anything. Not at first. Then Yuna whispered from the back “So… Hostile Wellness?”

“No,” Lia said immediately. Ryujin whispered, “Temporary title.” Chaeryeong whispered, “Maybe something gentler?”

I looked out the window as the parking level lights slid past one by one. For the first time in days, we were not walking into a meeting. Not a confrontation. Not a secret. We were leaving. And maybe, if the universe was feeling generous, we would come back a little less broken than when we left.

Then Ryujin leaned forward and whispered “Ben.” I closed my eyes “What?” “Can we see the tattoo at the first checkpoint?”

ᰔ [KQ PRACTICE ROOM 3, 10:37 PM]ᰔ

You were *this close* to perfecting your girl group’s new choreography when the door slammed open, revealing a sweaty, breathless San clutching two iced americanos like they were lifelines.

“Y/N-ssi!” he blurted, voice cracking. “I—uh—heard your team was practicing late. Thought you might need… caffeine?” Behind you, your groupmate Mina snorted into her water bottle. “He’s been ‘hearing things’ about our schedule for weeks,” she stage-whispered. San’s ears turned red. “I—I’m just being a good… sunbaenim!” You bit back a laugh. Choi San, KQ’s resident stage demon, was terrible at hiding his crush. Last week, he’d “accidentally” texted you a selca meant for Wooyoung. Yesterday, he tripped over a speaker trying to wave at you in the hallway. Today? This.

“Thanks, San-ssi,” you said, taking the coffee. His fingers brushed yours, and he nearly dropped his own drink. “Cool! Coolcoolcool,” he said, backing toward the door. “Anyway, good luck! Not that you need it! You’re already—uh—” Ding! His phone alarm blared. “MY STAGE PRACTICE TIME BYE!”

He bolted.

Mina fake-swooned. “If he stares at you any harder during music shows, Dispatch will write a thinkpiece.”

ᰔ[COMPANY CAFETERIA, 12:15 PM]ᰔ

The universe was punishing you.

There you were, post-morning-vocal-lessons, hair in a messy bun and no makeup, when San plopped down at your table with a tray of kimchi stew.

“Hi,” he said, grinning like a golden retriever who’d found a tennis ball. “Mind if I sit here?” *Yes*, you thought, because your cheeks were currently the color of roses. “Sure.”

He chattered about his group’s comeback while you picked at your rice. Then—

“Yah, Choi San!” Wooyoung’s voice echoed across the cafeteria. “Stop flirting and eat! You’ve got dance practice in ten!”

San choked on his soup. “I’M NOT FLIRTING,” he wheezed, thumping his chest. “This is… colleague bonding!” You buried your face in your hands. “Please don’t die in front of me.” “Only if you promise to visit my grave,” he said solemnly. Then his eyes widened. “WAIT NO THAT CAME OUT WRONG—”

ᰔ[MUSIC SHOW WAITING ROOM, 5:02 PM]ᰔ

The moment you walked into the shared waiting room, San’s head snapped up from his phone.

“Y/N!” He shot to his feet, knocking over Jongho’s protein shake. “Oops—sorry—hi.”

You stifled a laugh. He was in full stage makeup, hair styled into dark, tousled perfection, leather harness glinting under the lights. But his smile? 100% dork.

“Good luck tonight,” you said. “You too!” He rocked on his heels. “Hey, after the show, maybe we could—”

“SAN!” Yunho yelled from across the room. “Stop bothering her and let her breathe!” Hongjoong sighed. “Just ask her out already. We’re tired.” The room erupted into laughter. San looked ready to combust. You took pity on him.

“I’d love to get coffee later,” you said softly.

His face lit up. “REALLY?”

“Yes, but only if you stop spilling things on your members.” He saluted. “No guarantees.”

ᰔ[ROOFTOP STARBUCKS, 11:30 PM]ᰔ

San showed up wearing sunglasses and a bucket hat. “...It’s nighttime,” you said. “Disguise!” He slid into the seat across from you. “In case Dispatch is lurking.” “You look like a suspicious umbrella.”

“A handsome suspicious umbrella,” he corrected, peeling off the hat. His hair stuck up in seven directions.

You burst out laughing. “Is this the real Choi San?”

“Only for you,” he said, softer now. His foot nudged yours under the table. “For the record… I’ve wanted to do this forever.”

“Buy me overpriced coffee while dressed as a K-drama villain?” “No.” He leaned forward, smile tender. “This.”

And then—

ᰔSLAM!ᰔ The rooftop door flew open.

“FOUND YOU!” Wooyoung and your group’s maknae, Jisoo, stood there holding a phone camera. “Now kiss so I can win the bet!”

San groaned, thunking his head on the table. “I’ll never live this down.”

You grinned, lacing your fingers with his. “Good. I like you better this way.”

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

J/N:*slides into your DMs* DID THE SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT HIT??? San is the king of “I can fix him” energy. 😭 Let me know if you want a part 2 where they adopt a cat together! 🐱💕