#exo angst

The wedding venue sits outside the sanctuary of the Uber, flocks of people dressed in their finest wear heading towards those heavy double doors. Your body betrays you, instantly searching the faces of the men before you even realize that you’re doing it, looking for those all too familiar features. 

“Is… this the right stop?” the Uber driver asks, looking with concern at your expression. You’re sure that your face displays all of the emotion you’re feeling at once: anxiety, stress, straight up fear. None of the emotions that you should be feeling before attending the wedding.

“Yes, thank you. Sorry.” You shoot him a shaky smile that you’re sure does nothing to convince him that you’re fine. Lucky for you, you’ll have all the opportunity in the world tonight to practice this expression. 

You let yourself out of the car, your legs feeling shaky and unstable beneath you as you walk towards the venue. Truth be told, you could probably have gotten away with bailing on this wedding. The married couple-to-be were two of your old college friends, ones that you kept in touch with enough to tell each other happy birthday, or to let each other know when you were in town, but not close enough anymore that you thought that your attendance to the wedding would be expected in any way. But, you didn’t have a good enough excuse, and after all, they came to yours once upon a time. 

You don’t particularly recognize anyone when you make it inside, seating yourself at the very edge of the row in the back. Your eyes start to do that thing again, the scanning. You can’t help yourself. If you could just see if he’s here or not, then maybe the anxious pit in your stomach would finally settle, and it wouldn’t feel like you’re about to jump out of your skin whenever a new person walks through the doors.

Minutes pass. He doesn’t seem to be seated, and for a second you can delude yourself into thinking that he isn’t coming. An overwhelming part of you is relieved, but a small part hurts still, even after all this time. Baekhyun loved weddings. If he doesn’t come, then maybe it’s because he couldn’t face you after all.

And of course, as soon as the thought occurs to you, he walks in through the doors.

Time has been kind to him. While his features have softened slightly over the years, he’s still as effortlessly handsome as ever. You had heard through the grapevine that he had dyed his hair blonde at some point, but if he did, it’s back to its natural black now, falling softly over his forehead. 

He’s alone, you realize with relief, which is immediately followed by guilt. Why should it matter if he’s with someone or not? It’s been five years, after all. If you had found someone new by now, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable.

Baekhyun scans the room for somewhere to sit, and before you can prepare yourself you realize that he’s locked eyes with you. He freezes, an unreadable mixture of emotions passing through his face. His entire body locks up, unsure in which direction it wants to go.

You don’t know why you do it. Maybe a part of you deep within your marrow will always call out to him. But you smile at him, tilting your head invitingly towards the empty chair next to you. It takes him a second to decide, but he starts to walk towards you. You wonder if the decision comes easily to him as easily as it had come to you. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling softly. “Been a long time.”

You stand and hug him in greeting, a friendly, indifferent hug that you might give to a distant relative you haven’t seen since childhood. He smells different: a cologne you don’t recognize, but he feels the same in your arms. If you closed your eyes, tuned out the world and the events of the last five years, you could have convinced yourself that you were standing in your first shared apartment together, back when it felt like you had eternity in front of you. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come,” he admits, sitting down next to you.

“For Isa and Jun? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“After all, they came to ours,” Baekhyun smiles wide at the memory. “Did you ever get confirmation from them if they hooked up or not?”

You laugh. “Oh yeah. Isa made me swear not to tell you.”

“Funny,” he replies. “Jun would never give me a straight answer.”

The two of you settle into an awkward silence. The back of your neck prickles with self-consciousness: you always thought that if you saw Baekhyun again you would know what to do. That age or the passing years would impart you with some wisdom that would tell you exactly what to say or not say. But you still feel as clueless and helpless as ever, and when you catch your gaze drifting towards him you can’t help but break eye contact before it really has a chance to hold.

“How’s your mom?” he asks.

“She’s good,” you reply. “Finally retired. Yours?”

“She’s okay,” he says carefully. “She’s getting kind of forgetful. She asks about you sometimes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s as if you never left.” You’re not sure if the bitterness underneath his voice is real or a projection of your guilt. “She asks why I don’t bring you around every time I go to visit her.”

“Oh.” You stare down at the floor, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. “I’m sorry. About your mom.”

“Thanks.” He pauses for a second, then says, “Are you seeing anyone?”

You nearly snort in surprise. When you meet his gaze he’s smiling slightly, even though the bright red shade of the tips of his ears give him away. “That’s quite confrontational,” you say. 

He shrugs. “I’ve always wondered. Didn’t want to beat around the bush any longer.”

“It’s not any of your business,” you say, “but no. I’m not.”

“Me neither,” he replies, a bit too quickly.

You laugh. “And just what am I supposed to do with that information?”

“You don’t have to do anything with it.” He nudges your side. “But knowing you, I know you’ve been wondering about it too. You just never would’ve asked.”

The wedding procession begins, halting all conversation between the two of you. It’s a beautiful ceremony, one that you can’t help comparing with your own, especially with Baekhyun by your side. Isa and Jun look as happy and nervous as you and Baekhyun did that day, and when they kiss you remember the way that Baekhyun tucked a strand of hair behind your ear right before he leaned in, his hand cupping your chin gently, reverently. A sudden welling of emotion surges through your chest as you applaud, and you have to fight the wave of tears that threaten to spring free from your eyes. 

The reception is on the second floor of the venue, and you walk by Baekhyun’s side up the stairs. You talk a little, polite chatter with no substance, vague commentary about the ceremony. Finally, you make it to the seating arrangement and find that you’re seated on opposite ends of the room. You’re not surprised; you know that Isa and Jun didn’t want to cause a scene between the two of you, but somehow you still feel vaguely disappointed.

“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Baekhyun says.

‘Come find me later,’ you want to say. But you already feel like you’re overstaying the niceties, and you don’t want to push on the walls that you’ve carefully built up over so many years.

“I guess so,” you say instead.

Dinner is a pleasant if not somewhat boring affair. You’re seated with some old friends from college, and you spend the hour catching up with them. It’s all nonsense, conversations that loop in circles, until finally one of them says,

“So, I saw you were sitting with Baekhyun earlier.”

The entire table shuts up. The girl’s friend elbows her underneath the table and her face goes bright red. “I-I’m sorry, I just mentioned it because I thought maybe you had gotten back together—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt. “No, we’re not back together. We were just catching up.”

“Have you read his latest novel?” someone else asks.

You shake your head sadly. “I haven’t read any of his work since the— since we broke up,” you admit. 

“Oh. I think he wrote it for you.”

Across the room, you see him engaged in a lively conversation with his tablemates, a stark contrast to the awkward sludge you find yourself in. It’s always been like this, hasn’t it? Always the star in the center of the room, dazzling anyone caught in his orbit.

“I wouldn’t know, sorry,” you say, voice tense.

“Hey, let’s talk about something else, yeah?”

The night continues to unfold. You finally get to catch up with Isa after the dance floor opens, gushing over how beautiful she is and how lovely the ceremony was. She clasps your hands and looks at you with wide concerned eyes.

“You’re okay, though? I heard you sat next to Baekhyun during the ceremony.”

“Jeez, it’s your wedding, why are people talking about me?” you joke, rolling your eyes. “It’s okay, Isa. I invited him to sit with me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You invited him? Did you sneak in any alcohol?”

“No. To be honest, I don’t know what came over me. But… I don’t regret it? I guess? It ended up being okay.”

“Okayy…” Isa drops her concerned expression but still squeezes your hands reassuringly. “Be safe tonight, let me know if you need anything. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?”

After some dancing and a glass or two of wine, you find yourself slipping into the hallway to find the bathroom. A set of double doors leading out to an empty balcony catches your attention, and you let yourself out. The night air is cool against your face, finally free from the humidity of the day. You lay your elbows against the balcony railing, staring out at the calm night. Behind you, the soft click of the door opening is barely enough to shake the sense of peace that’s washed over you, even as you instinctively know who is standing behind you.

“It’s cold,” Baekhyun says softly.

You shake your head, eyes still trained onto the dark horizon even as he sidles up next to you. “It’s not. It feels nice.” You fall silent for a moment. “I heard you wrote a new book.”

“I did. Did you read it?”

“What do you think?”

Baekhyun laughs. “I don’t blame you. It feels weird, though. It’s the first thing I’ve written that you’ve never even read a little bit of.”

“It probably was easier for you without all my edits,” you quip. “All that red ink I’ve used over the years.”

“I feel like you wouldn’t have needed it this time.” The corner of his lips quirk upwards in a crooked smile. “I only used ‘indeed’ to start a sentence fifteen times. I counted.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “You’ve changed so much.”

“And you haven’t changed at all.” 

The tone with which he made the sentence hangs between you, heavy and damp in the air. You swallow. “Baek—”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he huffs, voice already weary.

“What tone?”

“Like you’re about to scold me.”

Your eyebrows draw together, a tinge of annoyance sparking in your gut. “I wasn’t going to scold you.”

Baekhyun chuckles, staring back out at the night. “We were together for twelve years,” he says. “You think I don’t know you?”

“You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

“Maybe,” he replies, sighing. His voice is tinged with a deep, tired sadness, one that makes him sound older than he actually is. “But I like to think that I did, once upon a time.” 

Your voice comes out hushed. “Do you really want to do this here?”

“Well. When will we see each other again?” Baekhyun asks, suddenly turning towards you. “Look, I understand that you didn’t want to be married anymore. But… But did you have to just disappear?”

“I needed a clean break, Baekhyun,” you say. “It would be too hard to be around you after everything.” You still remember the way he looked the day those words tumbled out of your mouth as if it was yesterday: his dark eyes round and glassy with hurt, lips stretched thin, trembling slightly. 

He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream at you. Didn’t beg. He just looked down at the breakfast table silently with his hands clenched together, letting your words hang heavy in the air. I want a divorce. I can’t do this anymore. You knew then that you had broken his heart. You couldn’t bear to be around to witness the fallout.

“Do you think…” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “...after all this time you can give me a straight answer about why you did it?”

You wince. You had been cagey about it back then, dodging his requests for clarity, even though he never asked with any hostility, any malice. He simply wanted to understand, wanted to get back inside of your head after finding himself suddenly shut out. You never gave him a direct answer, couldn’t articulate the messy feelings that you felt, couldn’t put into words the years of disappointment.

“I just… We’ve been together since high school, Baek. We were kids! I needed to grow up, y’know? Find out who I was as an adult.”

“And you needed to leave me in order to do that?” His voice sounds small, cowering like a wounded animal. “You don’t think I was also finding myself? We could’ve done that together.”

“I guess I needed to find out who I was without you. I felt stuck.”

“I never meant to make you feel stuck,” he says. “What did you need from me then? How could I have made it better?”

You scoff. “What difference does it make now?”

Baekhyun swallows. “I just want to know. I just need to know what I did wrong.” 

Your eyes close on their own accord, your body’s attempts to shield yourself from the memories. But they come flooding back anyways, the repressed emotions rushing to the surface with ease. All those nights alone while Baekhyun wrote, sleeping in a bed that felt too large, even when he eventually came to your side. Following him to all of his publicity events you never wanted to go to. He never asked if you were free, never asked if you were having a good time. It was just… expected. Anniversaries and birthdays turned impersonal: he no longer wrote you silly love sonnets or surprised you by renting out a movie theater just for the two of you to watch your favorite romcoms, replaced instead with a bouquet of roses and dinner at the latest fancy restaurant.

Minus the few nights when you flew into a rage, your dissatisfaction rising like bile in your throat, tears trailing paths of fire down your face while Baekhyun held your broken, crumpled form on the ground and mumbled apologies against your temple until your sobs finally withered off, your relationship was fine on paper. He was good with words after all; he built his whole life around painting pretty pictures with them. It was in the actions, in the follow through, where he failed.

Baekhyun’s words were so good at making people feel seen. That’s why it hurt so bad when you knew you that he could no longer see you.

You turn to leave but he steps to the side, partially standing in your path. “Please,” he begs. “Please don’t go.”

“I want to go inside now,” you mumble.

“Please just answer me.” Baekhyun’s voice trembles. “Just tell me what I did wrong and then I’ll let you go.”

You take in a shaky breath, averting your eyes from the heat of his stare. “It’s just…” He stays silent while you trail off, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“You didn’t love me,” you whisper.

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets the words sink in. His face morphs into an expression of confusion and devastation.

“What?”

“Towards the end, I just didn’t feel like you loved me anymore.”

“I loved you so fucking much,” he exhales, voice wet with emotion. “I loved you so much that I forgot how to breathe sometimes with how badly it hurt.”

“I begged you to love me!” you sob. Your outburst surprises you, and you feel the tears, sticky on your face, before you even feel them falling from your eyes. “You don’t remember? You don’t remember me falling to my fucking knees, night after night, sobbing?”

“Of course, I remember.” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip wobbling as he’s taken back to that night. When he closes his eyes he can see it, can practically hear the desperation clawing your throat. “I’m sorry. I’m as sorry now as I was every day that I apologized.”

“It was too late,” you whisper. “It shouldn’t have come to that.”

“I know.” He looks back out at the horizon. “I know.”

“You let your work come between us. I felt like an accessory. You did everything that checked off the boxes of a perfect husband without thinking if it was something that I wanted.”

Baekhyun’s jaw tenses. “And that made you feel unloved?”

“I felt unseen. Isn’t that the same thing?”

He flinches. He drums his fingers against his thigh restlessly in that way he always did when he knew you were winning an argument. 

“What are my favorite flowers, Baekhyun?”

“Orchids,” he says instantly.

“And what flowers did you get me for our last two anniversaries?”

Baekhyun opens his mouth silently before closing it, the realization hitting him all at once. “Roses,” he whispers. 

“Romance became a routine to you,” you reply, your voice thick and heavy. “It wasn’t about me anymore, I was just another thing to check off your list.”

“You’re being a little unfair,” he says hoarsely. “Those were some of the worst years of my professional life. I hated what I was writing, and my agent was always on my ass. People were hounding me for a sequel to the worst thing I’ve ever written. I’m sorry that I neglected you, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

“You don’t have to do it on purpose for it to be cruel, Baekhyun,” you spit. “Accidents can hurt just as much.”

Silence falls between you two. Now that the words are out in the open, your vulnerability feels ugly and raw, stripped bare. You resist the urge to curl in on yourself, steeling your resolve before opening your mouth again. It’s not fair that only Baekhyun gets to walk away with some answers. 

“Can you do me a favor?” you ask.

He perks up. “Anything.”

“Can you… tell me one honest thing? Just tell me something that’s true so I feel like seeing you wasn’t just a massive waste of my time.”

The sharpness of your remark doesn’t seem to hurt him. Or maybe he’s just good at hiding his hurt. “Something honest?”

“Yes. Just… something that you never told me.”

“Okay.” He turns, open eyes earnestly searching yours. “I still love you. I never stopped.”

You can practically hear your heart breaking in half, a sharp, ragged pain that tears through your chest. You feel tears welling up in your eyes again and you break his stare, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Don’t be mean. Please.”

“I would never be mean to you.” His eyes are dark, brimming with unshed tears. “I was a lot of things to you. Stupid, immature, neglectful. But I was never, ever mean.”

“You still hurt me, though.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “You hurt me more than you could imagine.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” He takes a step forward and grabs your hands. They’re freezing, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away. Not now. “I would have listened. I would have fixed it. You didn’t give me a fucking chance!”

“I gave you plenty of chances,” you say bitterly. “I seem to remember a lot of crying and asking you to fix it.”

He shakes his head firmly. “No. You cried, and I apologized, and I asked you what was wrong and you just closed off. You never told me. You would pretend the next day that everything was fine, like I couldn’t feel the sadness coming off of you.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want a love that needed fixing,” you whisper. “Isn’t it supposed to be easy? Loving someone?”

“So that’s why you didn’t want to fix it? Because it wasn’t easy?” He looks at you with wide eyes, bewildered. “Love is a choice. It’s not some passive thing. I woke up every day and I chose you, I chose you when it was easy and I chose you when it was hard.”

“So, what, are you saying you would still choose me now?”

“Yes.” Baekhyun’s bottom lip trembles. “Yes, fuck, yes. I would choose you every single day of my life. I choose all of you, your anger, your spite, your tears. I would choose you even on the days that you don’t choose me, on the days when you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“But why?”

“Because I love you.” He says it like it’s so simple. Some irrevocable, unshakeable fact of the universe. 

“Then why did you let me go? Why say that you would have fixed it now, huh? Why didn’t you beg for me to stay then?”

Baekhyun goes silent. You see the moment he disappears, retreating back into the memory of the day you asked for the divorce. “It was your eyes. They were so… sad. If letting you leave me meant that that sadness could go away… then I would do it.”

Your voice comes out nothing more than a ragged hoarse whisper. “What are you doing here, Baekhyun? Why did you follow me out here? Why won’t you let me go like you did back then?”

He reaches out slowly, giving you the chance to dodge his touch as he goes to cup your cheek, the same way he did on your wedding day. You don’t. You let his touch ghost across your face, until his thumb is caressing your bottom lip. 

Your breath feels stuck in your throat, and you barely dare to move even an inch. His eyes search yours, gaze broken wide open. Vulnerable. 

“You’re still sad,” he whispers. “I saw it from the moment I laid eyes on you today.”

You’re trembling, shaking in the cool night air. You don’t dare look away.

“You regret it,” he says. “You regret leaving.”

“Stop,” you whisper.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I—” You swallow, gazing up at him, your heart thudding in your chest and hammering against your ribcage. He looks at you expectantly, unwavering.

“Tell me,” he sobs, his voice a rough, desperate thing.

Your voice breaks, fresh tears falling down your face as you reach up to place your hand on top of his. 

“I can’t.”

When he kisses you, it feels like home.

He doesn’t devour you. Doesn’t claim your lips with the all-encompassing hunger that only comes from being apart for half a decade. He kisses you with reverence, devotion, like you’re some delicate thing made of porcelain that he can’t bear to break again. His hands are shaking, trembling as he cups both sides of your face, thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks like he can’t believe that you’re real.

“Baek,” you whimper, pulling him closer towards you.

He pulls away slightly, eyes closed, to whisper your name, eyelashes fanned out across his upper cheekbones. You realize with a start that it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak your name in five years, the first time since the day you left that you’ve heard your own name spoken with such overflowing love. 

It’s fucking terrifying.

You take a step back, wobbling in your heels. Baekhyun reaches out as if to catch you but then stops himself at the last second.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes wide as if he’s seen a ghost (he has). “I know, I overstepped—”

He makes a noise of surprise, maybe relief, when you press him against the balcony railing, hands gliding into place, tangling in his hair before your lips descend onto his. Your kisses have more energy, five years of the regret that you never allowed yourself to feel bubbling towards the surface. His hands settle on the small of your back, drawing you in impossibly closer as he matches your intensity.

You know it’s a terrible idea, but you let your tongue glide across his bottom lip anyways, sparks flying low in your stomach when he groans, needy and desperate. He shifts, and you feel him growing hard in his slacks, pressing insistently against your thigh.

“Not here,” he whispers frantically, cupping your face with both hands once again. “Not… Not like this.”

“I— I could call an Uber,” you say. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, lips and fingers tingling. “We could go to my hotel.”

“I drove here. I don’t live too far away, if you prefer that.”

You manage to sneak away from the wedding, making a mental note to apologize to your friends in the morning. The drive to Baekhyun’s place is short, and you barely have time to take in everything new and unfamiliar to you (new car, new house) before he’s ushering you through the front door, through darkened, unfamiliar hallways, into an unfamiliar bedroom.

“Are you sure?” he pants against your lips, shrugging off his suit jacket and letting it fall to the ground unceremoniously.

“I’m sure.” Your fingers are trembling as you reach out to undo his shirt buttons. You shiver as he unzips your dress, eyeing your body as you become bare for him.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He stands there, motionless for a few moments, taking time to drink in your image. You shift self-consciously, thinking about the ways in which your body has changed since the last time Baekhyun’s seen you, your arms going to cover yourself on instinct. His eyes narrow, pinning your arms by your side as he walks you back against the bed.

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice strained as if the thought of you covering up physically pains him. “You’re so… You’re so beautiful.”

The rest of both of your clothing gets removed until you’re both fully bare in front of each other, Baekhyun’s fingers hovering, unsure at your entrance. “I-It’s been a while since I’ve… since anyone’s…” you stammer, ears turning hot.

“For me too,” Baekhyun admits. “I’m a little out of practice.”

“Take your time,” you breathe, settling your head against the pillow. You close your eyes, heart pounding in your ears. 

The first touch of Baekhyun’s plush lips against your clit makes you jolt in surprise, and your mouth falls open when he slides both fingers inside. He starts off hesitant at first before his confidence steadily grows, his fingers curling inside of you right as he sucks.

“Baek!” you gasp, clutching the sheets with your fists. You dare to look down at him and almost regret it immediately: his expression can only be described as pure bliss, staring up at your face with raw want. The sight makes you clench around his fingers, already coming undone underneath him.

Baekhyun growls, parting from you with one last noisy suck, scooting up the bed so that he’s already lining himself up with you. 

“‘M sorry,” he gasps desperately, the tip of his cock dipping shallowly into your folds. “I’ll make you cum again with my mouth later, I just fucking need to be inside you right now.”

In another lifetime when things went right, you might have teased him for his desperation, but here you can’t do anything but hook your leg around his waist, drawing him even closer. “I know,” you whimper, locking your arms around his neck. “I know, Baek, it’s okay.”

When he slips inside you, you nearly have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. It feels good, too good, and your fingers scramble for purchase on his back just to ground yourself. Baekhyun holds back, letting you adjust to the stretch, but the way that his eyes are screwed shut tells you that it’s not so easy for him to stay still.

“F-Fuck,” he whimpers, tucking his chin to his chest. “I missed you.”

The broken way he says it tears a hole in your chest. The admission builds on your tongue, so strong and earth-shattering from being repressed for so long that you can’t even think to stop it.

“I missed you too.”

He sobs, hips pitching forward of their own accord as his gaze breaks wide open, looking at you with every single emotion— love, lust, longing— on full display. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of hearing you say that.”

He doesn’t— can’t maintain a slow pace for long. Not when you’re sprawled like this underneath him, squeezing around him like you were made for him. It feels too good, but he can’t let himself close his eyes, needs to remember what you look like right now just in case it’s the last time.

You brush your thumbs over his cheekbones, cradling his face as he fucks you, emotions and pleasure mixing messily in your chest. “Feels so good,” you gasp. “Don’t stop, please.”

Baekhyun groans, slipping one hand in between you to rub your clit. “Need to feel you,” he babbles, almost incoherently. “Need to feel you cum on me… please, baby.”

The unexpected term of endearment makes you gasp, back arching into his touch as your orgasm crashes into you suddenly, overtaking you from the inside out. Baekhyun moans shakily, going down onto his elbows and cradling your head in between his arms, stroking your hair affectionately as you tremble through it. He’s close enough for you to press your lips against his collarbone, throwing your arms around his back and pulling him even closer.

He thrusts in you deep, every inch of his cock sending pulses of electricity up your spine, your sensitive walls still twitching through the aftershocks. He whispers words of affection against your temple, endless praise flowing freely from his lips. You mouth at his sweat-damp skin, pleasure clouding your mind, your better judgement, and you whisper the one thing, the only thing, that you know to be true after tonight.

“I love you.”

Baekhyun shudders. “Say it again,” he whispers desperately. 

You pull back so that he can look deep into your eyes, so he knows. Knows just how much it scares you, how badly the words shake you to your core, but also just how much you mean it.

“I love you.”

Baekhyun squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face into the crook of your neck, rutting inside of you with a primal need until he cums, spilling inside of you with a low groan. “Fuck, I love you,” he says, voice shaking. “I love you.”

The afterglow is devastating.

After cleaning up, the two of you lay side by side in the darkness just like you used to. Baekhyun plays with your hair, twirling the strands between his fingers silently. The expression on his face betrays his worry; while he smiles at you and indulges you with kisses, his eyes show worry.

“Please don’t leave before I wake up tomorrow,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows crease together. “You think that I would?”

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun whispers. “You’ve left me before.”

“Baek…” You swallow. “I’m not going to say that we should get back together right now, but… you were right. I do regret the way that I handled things. But it’s a lot to think about, okay?”

“I know. I don’t expect you to make any sort of decisions right now. Just… don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

Baekhyun gives you a watery smile, tracing the curve of your face with his thumb. “My love, my sun who floats by and by,” he whispers.

“Shines brighter than all the stars in my sky,” you whisper back. A nonsense sort of couplet that he had written for you back in the early years of your relationship, one that he would sing to you on nights just like this. “I haven’t heard that in years.”

“It’s so silly,” he laughs. “I thought I was a real poet back then.” His expression sours suddenly. “I’m sorry. For how horribly I treated you.”

“I’m sorry for how I left you,” you say. “I should have fought for us. I shouldn’t have given up.”

Baekhyun interlaces your fingers with his, holding it close to his chest. “You’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. "And I'm sorry that it took so long. I feel like I just wasted so much time."

He shakes his head, bringing your hands towards his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your hand. "No such thing. No time's wasted if it's you."

"We were happy for a while though," you smile. "Weren't we?"

Baekhyun smiles back. "The happiest."

When he wakes, you’re already seated at the edge of the bed, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. You smile at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Morning,” you say quietly.

He swallows, studying your closed off expression. “Heading out?”

“My flight is this afternoon,” you reply. “I should get back to the hotel.”

“At least let me drive you back?” And really, you can’t bring yourself to say no.

The drive is silent, heavy with all the words that are still left unsaid. Baekhyun’s fingers are tense around the steering wheel, eyes locked straight ahead as if he can’t bear to watch you go. He pulls up to the hotel driveway and stops the car.

“I guess—”

“So I—”

You laugh at the interruption. “You go first.”

Baekhyun reaches into his jacket and brings out a paperback novel, his name embossed on the cover. “I just… thought you could use some reading for your flight. And I’d really like to know what you think.”

“Oh. Thank you.” You take the book from him and settle it unsteadily in your lap. “And I just wanted to say…”

Your tongue fails you. When last night it was so easy for you to say those three words, it feels different here in the daylight, out in the open. 

Baekhyun smiles, reaching over the center console to put his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay. I know.” He squeezes before pulling back, letting you get out of the car.

He doesn’t leave until you’re inside the lobby and you watch him go until his car is out of sight. Once he’s gone, you flip open the cover of his novel. On the inside cover, his scrawled, messy handwriting, his phone number followed by a single line of words:

I still would choose you. Every single day. 

Your eyes flit over to the dedication, and emotion crawls into your throat for the hundredth time in the last twelve hours. You wipe your thumb over the printed ink, and for the first time in a long time, you’re able to think of him without holding back, without hiding your emotions from yourself. For the first time in a long time, your heart feels right.

Until the day comes when I hear the second line to our rhyme

For my love, my sun, who floats by and by

“She had her hands around you, Yeol!” You scream at him as you get out of the car and chase after him. The fucking audacity of him to walk out on you when he was the one in the wrong. 

“I told you I’m done talking about this.” Chanyeol walks further from you, resisting the urge to even spare you a glance when he says the next thing, knowing he’ll fold immediately once he makes eye contact with those doe eyes of yours. “Let’s just break up, fuck.” 

Your heart sinks and you stop walking. “Fine.” You mutter to yourself. Like the stubborn woman that you are, you turn on your heel and head in the opposite direction of your apartment, instead heading toward the door leading outside of the underground garage. 

Chanyeol hears your heels clacking in a different direction and frowns. He turns around and sighs when he sees you’re already halfway to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol shouts behind you, already irritated by your antics. 

“Away from you!!” You yell back, making sure to switch your hips as you strut away. You were wearing your tightest bootcut jeans with a pair of wrap-around strapped heels. The combo always made your ass look good – lethal, actually. And you knew Chanyeol was watching you leave.  

"What do I tell Junmyeon??” Chanyeol is very pissed at this point, unsure how to tell his best friend that his little sister was refusing to come home and that it was entirely his fault. 

You lift a middle finger up in the air, not even sparing him a glance before you’re out the door.  

“Fuck.” Chanyeol swears before dragging a hand through his hair, exhaling all the frustrations out of his body. Now he really had to explain to Junmyeon that his little sister was still wandering the streets at 2am. 

Junmyeon had asked Chanyeol to pick you up from whatever club you were at on a Friday night. It was getting late and Junmyeon was getting worried. You weren’t sure why. You were 23, no longer that naive 18-year-old that relied on the kindness of strangers to get home. You handled yourself then, and you are still handling them now. With a little more of your frontal lobe developed, of course. 

You never refused Junmyeon’s offer though, especially since you started dating Chanyeol. It was the perfect excuse for you and him to spend more time with each other without having Junmyeon be suspicious. Also, you wouldn’t have to pay for an uber (you only ride with certified strangers now 🙂‍↕️). 

The night started out fun. You danced together (grinded and whined on him). He bought you drinks and took care of you, making sure you were drinking water between tequila shots. You even had a hot and heavy make out session in some dark corner of the club. It was the perfect night out.  

Until some girl, who apparently knew Chanyeol very, very well, came along and wrapped an arm around his waist. That’s when you went apeshit and grabbed a fistful of her hair. And supposedly, Chanyeol thought you were “doing too much”. You don’t think you were doing enough. 

It was dark out tonight. It was quiet, peaceful even. The streetlights lighting up the city were really pretty, you think, especially since you left your glasses at home and they were shining brightly like Christmas lights. If you hadn’t gotten into a fight with Chanyeol, this would’ve been a really nice and romantic walk. You sigh. 

Chanyeol is the literal man of your dreams. You’ve dated a handful of assholes in the past. He is, by far, the most dependable, reliable, consistent man you have ever dated.  

He just pissed you off when he got too friendly. 

You sigh for the nth time that night. 

Or maybe you were too much.  

Maybe you’re too overbearing, too possessive, too... too much of everything. 

“Fuck.” You mutter to the cold air. You search around your surroundings and realize you are completely lost. You didn’t think you were walking for that long. 

“Junmyeon’s going to kill me.” You cry as you squat down and cover your face with your hands. With tears, you reach for your phone to call your big brother.  

“Y/N?” 

You freeze.  

You slowly glance up at the familiar voice. Chanyeol. His name comes out of your mouth like he’s your knight in shining armor. He’s standing over you with that soft look on his face. The one he always gives you after you throw a tantrum and he can’t help but forgive you.  

It makes you feel like shit. Because if anyone deserves a good and loving girlfriend, it’s Chanyeol. 

“Come on, get up.” His voice is gentle. He’s always gentle with you. He drapes his jacket around your bare shoulders and helps you up. He is too good for you. Your arms wrap around his waist immediately. You bury your face in his chest as the tears begin again. 

“I’m sorry.” You really are. 

“I know.” He rubs your back comfortingly before he ushers you back into his car.  

-------- 

You have no idea how you got here, but you were now giggling on Chanyeol’s lap in the back of his G-Wagon, laughing and smiling like you didn’t just break up two seconds ago. Your lips shower his neck with a million kisses while his hands rest lazily around your hips. His eyes sparkle when he isn’t mad at you. You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine whenever you’re in his arms like this. 

“Junmyeon is going to call soon.” Chanyeol laughs as you trap him in the backseat of his SUV. He has no idea how you two got here either, but this was the charm of your relationship. Hot and cold. Sad one minute, angry another, happy the rest of the time. It drives him insane, but you are the type of insane he loves to manage. 

"Why? You scared?” You say before dragging your tongue across his ear, earning you a shudder from him.  

“No, but doesn’t he have your location? Won’t he be suspicious that you’re in the building but not in your room?” Chanyeol asks, still worried about your brother. You don’t know why he’s so concerned about Junmyeon when Junmyeon has never once cared about your dating life. You doubt he cares you’re dating his best friend.  

“He lost location privileges when he went psycho that one time.”  

Chanyeol smirks at the memory. He remembers that one time.  

It wasn’t too long ago, for your 1-year anniversary. Chanyeol surprised you with a weekend stay at a luxurious hotel. You were so happy; you spent the first day fucking like bunnies, from the moment he scanned that card until you couldn’t stand up on your own. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other for that very short weekend. He had you against the door, by the window, in the jacuzzi, on the sink – everywhere. You left the hotel with 87% on your phone. 

You had told Junmyeon that you would be going out and probably stay at Jihyo’s, which was fine for him. He liked Jihyo. She seemed a bit more responsible. 

What was not fine was that he checked your location at 2 in the morning and freaked when he saw that you were at some fancy hotel that he knew you could not afford. You’re a college student. You had no business booking an expensive 5-star hotel.  

It did not help that you would not answer any of his 27 phone calls. 

“Chanyeol~” You whine, grinding your hips on the growing hard-on in his pants. You were craving his attention, and he was asking one too many questions for your taste. You place a gentle hand on his right cheek and find the glistening eyes you love so much. “Please.” 

His attention is charmed by the sound of your plead. He smiles, admiring how pretty you looked begging for him.  

He leans closer and gently presses his lips on yours. You moan, happy to be getting what you wanted. His tongue slips past your lips and slowly brushes against yours. Your hips move in tandem with his tongue, slow and hungry for more. You run a hand through his hair and deepen the kiss. The vibration of Chanyeol’s moans in your mouth is enough to feel butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“You’re my perfect girl.” Chanyeol leans back a bit to praise you while you chase after his lips. Your stomach flips at his words. He really is the man of your dreams.  

You press your lips back to his own pair as your hand slides down to the bulge in his pants. You unbuckle his belt with one hand and unzip him. He hums as you massage him through his briefs.  

“My perfect, perfect girl.” His hands massage your ass. He loves these jeans on you so much. Sometimes, when you wear them, he likes to make you upset just so he can watch you walk away from him. He hisses when you stroke his length and flick the tip with your thumb. He whines when you try to leave his lips to put them elsewhere. He shakes his head and motions for you to come back.  

"Baby, I wanna make you feel good.” You pout as you continue to stroke him. 

“You are.” He says, voice a bit shaky from your touch. “Now, come back here.” His hand gently caresses the back of your neck and pulls you into him, closing the space between you.  

You softly suck on his tongue, slowly pulling away and feeling every inch of the wet muscle. His cock twitches in your grip when your hand pumps him a little faster. You peek at Chanyeol and smile at the sight of his half open mouth and scrunched up face.  

Your lips find his again, kissing him softly. You were in love with this gentle giant who has been nothing but patient with you. You tighten your grip around him, settling into a steady rhythm. You use the precum accumulating to lubricate his length, your wrists twisting in a way you know he loves.  

“Fuck” He whispers against your lips before both hands cradle your face, needing to deepen the kiss. It’s soft, wet, gentle, and so, so painfully good. Chanyeol’s hips buckle up to thrust in your hand. He’s close and so eager to reach his end.  

“Cum for me, baby.” You mutter, tickling his lips. 

His eyes flutter open and immediately his gaze softens at the sight of you, so happy and so excited for him to cum all over your pretty fingers. 

His hips and your hand fall into a synchronized pace. He can’t take it. His head falls on your shoulder as he breathes heavily into your ear, feeling himself come close to unraveling. 

“Fuck, baby.” He swears as his cock twitches in your grasp and his cum covers your knuckles. You grin, taking your fingers and licking it clean from his cum.  

Chanyeol’s gaze darkens and doesn’t let you finish.  

He has you on your back in an instant, legs already in the air for him. 

"How the fuck-” Chanyeol says when he sees how intricate your heels’ straps were. He didn’t think you would wear vine-looking heels under the jeans. What was the point?  

You giggle at his frustration which makes him snap at you. “Oh, you think it’s funny?” You fold your lips in your mouth and shake your head, suppressing the grin on your face. Chanyeol doesn’t find it funny. He has your jeans pulled down to your knees aggressively, unable to remove them completely ‘cause of your stupid shoes. You yelp when he moves your thong to the side and rubs your folds with two fingers, eyes maintaining contact with yours.  

He bends down and drags his tongue slowly across your slit while he holds your legs up. Your breath hitches when his tongue teases your entrance. He kisses it lightly, admiring how pretty it is before his finger runs soft circles around your hole. “My pretty girl, you’re soaking wet. It’s getting all over my seats.” He teases, but he isn’t lying. You can feel your juices leaking slowly to your ass from anticipation. He was driving you crazy.  

“Chanyeol, please.” You beg, not wanting to go slow anymore.  

“Please what?” Chanyeol tilts his head, playful glint in his eyes. You whine and pout, trying your best to move closer to him but his grip is far stronger than you are.  

“Please touch me, Chanyeol.”  

Before Chanyeol could even respond something witty, your phone rings in the front seat. Chanyeol grabs it. “Answer.” He taps the screen before giving it to you.  

“Hello?” 

“Y/N, Where are you?” Junmyeon sounds calm but you know he’s fuming. You glance at your phone and the time shows 4:27. Shit.  

“Um,” Chanyeol surprises you with his mouth on your pussy, immediately sucking and lapping his tongue across your slit. “We’re just going to get something to eat.” 

Chanyeol almost snorts too loud, laughing at your unintentional innuendo. You slap his shoulder to shut up. He bites his lip when he sees your pussy clench from trying to hold your laugh in. He leans back down and continues his work, dragging his tongue up and down. His drool mixes with your juices as he slurps hungrily. You’re struggling to focus, forgetting all about your dearest brother.  

“Okay good, you’re with Chanyeol.” You hear Junmyeon sigh in relief.  

“Uh huh” You say breathily, wanting him to end the call. You almost squeal out loud when Chanyeol adds two fingers and starts thrusting into you while simultaneously sucking you dry. 

“Well, go straight home after. It’s getting late.” Chanyeol speeds up, hooking his finger to hit your sweet spot. You’re covering your mouth with your arm, hoping that it’s enough to muffle your moans.  

“Y/N, I’m serious.” Junmyeon says when he doesn’t hear a reply from you and assumes that you’re rolling your eyes at him. You are. Just not at him. “Chanyeol and I have a game tomorrow.” 

“Yes, I get it.” You spit out, annoyed and almost reaching your end.  

“Come on, baby.” Chanyeol whispers as low as possible but loud enough for you to hear. 

“Junny, I have to go.” You hope the petname is enough to defuse his anger for hanging up abruptly.  

“Fuckkkkkk Chanyeol” You scream as you let your phone drop from your grip. You clench around his fingers as he continues to fuck you. 

“Yessssss” He cheers as you burst on his expensive leather, legs shaking and dangling in the air. Chanyeol finally lets go of your legs and comes up to meet your face. 

“Fuck,” He kisses your neck. “You’re so” Your jaw. “fucking perfect” Your lips. 

“I love you so much, baby.” He peppers your face with kisses. You sigh in his grip, high on ecstasy. This must be what heaven feels like. “I’m so sorry for being too friendly. You’re the only one for me.” 

His apology jolts you wide awake and you feel your energy come right back up. You feel so fucking validated right now. “I love you too, Yeol. Come fuck me upstairs?” 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen at your invitation. He must have fucked the brains out of you because there is no way you were suggesting getting fucked with Junmyeon in the next room.  

“Baby, we can’t.” Chanyeol tries to let you down gently, massaging your sides. 

“Why not? We’ll be so quiet!” Your hand finds his waist and stroke it affectionately. “I was so good on the phone call.” 

“Yes, you were.” Chanyeol smiles proudly and lightly presses his lips against yours. He thinks for a second before he looks at your puppy dog eyes. “Fine. But one bed creak, and I’m running back to the couch. Deal?” 

“Deal!!” You exclaim, pulling up your jeans excitedly and giving him a kiss before you’re stumbling out of his car. 

-------- 

Junmyeon comes out of his room, half-awake, when he hears that you’ve finally made it home. He checks the time and it’s already 5 in the morning. He doesn’t expect to see Chanyeol trailing behind you, but he guesses it’s reasonable for him to just sleepover when there’s a game at 10 in the morning. 

"Hi Junny!” You unclasp your heels with a flick of your wrist and hop to your brother. Chanyeol’s jaw drops at how easy it was for you to remove them. “We got you some fries.” You beam, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for asking Chanyeol to pick me up.” 

“Of course.” He takes the bag and gasps when he sees sweet potato fries, his favourite. “But you shouldn’t stay out too late! You have to respect other people’s time.” Sweet potato fries aren’t enough to stop the nagging apparently. 

“Mhmm” You wave him off before faking a yawn and heading to your room. You weren’t expecting to see Junmyeon up so late but that’s why you begged Chanyeol to drive and get the fries as a precaution. Hopefully, he finishes them quickly so Chanyeol can sneak into your room. 

-------- 

“Hey, is it okay if I sleep over?” Chanyeol meets Junmyeon in the kitchen. “Your sister was a handful tonight.” 

“Sorry, she doesn’t like it when I pick her up.” Junmyeon pops a fry in his mouth. “Says ‘I nag too much’.” He throws air quotes in the air. Chanyeol notices how awake he looks now. He’s silently regretting the fries. He should’ve gotten him hot cocoa or something, anything to put him back to sleep so he can slip away and be with you. 

“I don’t know how I’m any better. She picks a fight with me every time.” Chanyeol shrugs, stealing a fry from the bag. He might as well eat if he’s not getting to you anytime soon. 

“Yeah... I’m sorry.” His best friend sighs before eating another fry. “If it’s any consolation to you, I think it’s because she has a crush on you.” 

Chanyeol chokes on a fry. Junmyeon laughs and pats him on the back. He coughs up the fry and clears his throat. 

“What?” Chanyeol feigns surprise, unsure how to respond. He knows you have a crush on him. You just told him you loved him in the car. 

“She gets a bit mean with people she cares about.” Junmyeon explains, smiling at the thought of his not-so little sister and your weird way of expressing yourself. “I think it’s cute. She’s never been the one to be subtle with her feelings.”  

“Oh,” Chanyeol wants to tell him. He’s been wanting to tell him. But the words can’t come out. “Maybe she does.” 

Junmyeon laughs as he finishes the last of his fries. “Don't tell her I told you.” He pats him on the shoulder before throwing the brown bag in the trash and heading back to his room. “And no worries. Make yourself at home. We can pass by your place for your stuff. Night.” 

Chanyeol waits for Junmyeon’s door to shut before rushing to you. 

His heart softens when he catches you asleep, cuddling a pillow as long as you are. He tries to shut the door as quietly as possible and slips into your bed. The silk sheets you asked him (guilt-tripped him) to buy were proving themselves helpful in insulating the noise. He’ll make sure to let you know later. 

Your shoulder peeks through your blanket, the silk slipping easily against your skin. Instinctively, he lightly presses a kiss on your exposed skin, unintentionally waking you up. You shift in your sleep and turn to face him. A smile rushes to your face when you see the familiar brown eyes that you love so much.  

“You’re so pretty without makeup.” Chanyeol examines your bare face, knuckles lightly grazing on your cheek. He rarely gets to see this side of you. You were high-maintenance and he loved every bit of it, but sometimes, he wishes he could just see your natural features a little more often.  

“You’re just saying that to be nice.” You whine under his touch, moving your head to the side to kiss the palm of his hand. Chanyeol simply shakes his head. His palm slides to the nape of your neck, lightly brushing his thumb against your skin.  

“You’re perfect, my love.” He leans down to kiss you, his knee nudging your legs open. He removes his pants, shimmying it off before he situates himself in between you, now hovering over you. You wrap a leg around him and whine beneath him when you feel his hard-on through his boxers. 

“You said you’d be quiet.” He whispers, hooking a finger around your thong and pulling it down. Once off, he balls it up in his fist. “Ah”  

Your mouth opens and he tucks it into your mouth. “You have to be quiet.” His thumb swipes your cheek gently before leaving it a sweet kiss.  

“Nod if you understand.” His voice is low, lips tickling the side of your face. He gently moves your face with his index finger and slowly nods his head when you meet his eyes. You follow the way he moves his head, doing anything to have him inside you again. 

"Good girl.” A mischievous smile grows on his face. He’s so turned on right now; he quickly takes his cock out of his boxers and teases your slippery slit, still wet from before.  

“I’m going to need help staying quiet too, my love.” He hisses when he slowly enters you. Feeling his thickness fill your walls, you bite into the undergarment, trying to muffle the moan, and shut your eyes tightly.  

“I know, baby.” He whispers in your ear, his head now resting by your ear so he can mutter as lowly as possible. His hips move methodically into you, deep and slow. It takes everything in you not to squeal when his thrusts hit deeper inside you. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer so he could continue hitting that sweet spot inside of you.  

“You’re doing such a good job.” He praises you, massaging a hand on your hip encouragingly. You gasp when his fingers squeeze around your breast. His mouth follows soon after, sucking and flicking his tongue around your nipple. It was suddenly getting harder and harder to breathe with your mouth covered.  

He glances up at you, mouth still on your body and hips still moving in and out of you. Your fingers run through his hair, lightly squeezing when he sucks on you a little too hard and his thrusts reach a little deeper. You’re both looking at each other with adoration and love in your eyes. You feel like it’s all too good to be true. Like you’ll fuck this up somehow.  

You almost did, multiple times. And every single time, he came back for you.  

You’re terrified of the day he won’t. 

As if he can hear you overthink, he pulls the fabric out of your mouth. “What are you thinking so hard about, hm?” His lips find yours, distracting you from your thoughts. He makes your mind go at ease every single time. You can’t believe how lucky you are. 

His hips move faster, getting closer to his end. He tried his best to keep the bed quiet, but your walls were so warm around him, he needed to release inside you. The springs were creaking softly, and you both were too horny to care.  

“I love you I love you I love you.” You chant as you feel yourself reach your climax, tightening your walls around him. He’s not too far from it either, thrusting into you and kissing you passionately.  

“I love you so much.” He whispers against your lips before he drops next to you.  

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, hoping your bodies remember to get up before Junmyeon does in the morning. 

chananyeol bong: i'm loving this tiny font thing. i feel so cute. this also might be a three parter. i wanted it to be 2 parts but idk part 2 is getting long. part 2 is almost done but im an anxious avoidant and i dont want it to end so its taking a biiiiiit longer 🙈😛

“Jongin, stop!”

Your voice broke the air, and his fist froze mid-motion. When he turned to look at you, the adrenaline in his eyes faded, replaced by a flickering realization as he finally registered the look of pure disappointment on your face. Jongin glanced down at what he’d done—the guy slumped on the floor, blood blooming from his nose, too exhausted and beaten to even keep pace with the fight anymore.

“Man, what did you do!?” he heard from someone else who helped the guy on the floor. 

You didn’t wait for an explanation. You turned and bolted, escaping the campus as fast as your legs could carry you, desperate to get away from him.

Jongin realized the moment he saw you run that he had broken the one promise that mattered. He tried to catch you before you left the school grounds, but you were already gone. 

It wasn’t until later that evening that he showed up at your place, his shame trailing behind him like a shadow.

“Babe… it’s me.” The sound of his knuckles against your front door was hesitant. When you didn’t reply, he knocked again.

“Go away!” Your voice was thick with anger.

Jongin froze on the other side. “Love, please,” he urged, his voice strained. “Just listen to me once.” You could almost hear him dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. “I promise I’ll leave if you don’t want to see me, but please… just once.”

Promises. That was the problem.

You had every intention of keeping that door locked, but a stubborn part of you softened. You sighed before finally pulling the door open, stepping back to give him just enough space to enter.

“Ten minutes,” you said firmly.

Jongin looked stunned, but he didn’t argue. He stepped inside, searching your eyes as he struggled to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. The rawness in his tone forced you to look at him. “I know I fucked up. I know I told you the fighting was over, that I was done being impulsive.”

“Then why was there blood on your knuckles today, Jongin?” you asked, your voice rising despite yourself. “Why?”

“Because…” Jongin looked like he wanted to punch the wall, but instead, he curled his fingers into his palms. “He was talking about you… he said things... disgusting things about what he wanted to hook you up. I couldn’t just stand there.”

“I can defend myself,” you snapped. “I’ve been doing it long before you came along. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I did it because you’re my girl, and… I love you.” He stepped closer, his shadow looming over you.

His shoulders slumped. Jongin could definitely face an entire crowd with his fists up, but he couldn’t survive a single day without you. You were the only person in the world who could disarm him without trying.

Jongin reached for your hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. “When he said your name, I just... I couldn’t handle the thought of him disrespecting you.”

You looked down at his hands. “The promise wasn’t just about the fighting, Jongin.” You finally met his gaze. “I trusted that you were better than that.”

“I am,” he urged, squeezing your fingers. “With you, I am.”

You didn’t pull your hands away from his, but you kept them limp. “Jongin...” Your heart ached at the sight of the cut on his lip and the red mark on his cheekbone, but you forced yourself to stay cold.

His grip on your hands tightened just a fraction. “You’re the only good in my life, and the thought of someone even thinking they could lay a hand on you or speak your name like that…”

“I don’t need a protector,” you muttered, pulling one hand free to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. You stepped back, leaning against the kitchen counter to put more distance between you. “How am I supposed to trust you’ll stay calm next time?”

Jongin followed you, but stopped a few feet away, respecting the boundary you’d drawn. He looked utterly defeated. “You’re right.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes shimmering with a sudden, raw vulnerability. “But you have to believe one thing.”

He stepped into your space then, closing the gap until he was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his chest. He didn’t grab you; instead, he lowered his head, resting his forehead against your shoulder in a gesture of absolute surrender.

“I could fight a hundred guys like him,” he breathed into the fabric of your shirt, his voice muffled and trembling. “But I can’t fight you. If you tell me to leave now and never come back… I’ll do it, because I can’t stand being the reason you’re unhappy.”

You felt the tension in your shoulders begin to crumble; his entire body was shaking. For Jongin, his pride was everything—and he was laying it all in the dust just for a chance to stay.

You didn’t say a word. Rising up on your tiptoes to close the distance, you cupped his face and met his lips with a soft, deep, and agonizingly slow kiss. Then, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him into you.

Jongin’s arms wound around your waist instantly, his large hands splaying across your back, drawing you flush against his chest. He let you take the lead, his body sagging with a relief so profound it was almost heavy. He followed your rhythm, losing himself in the quiet safety of your touch.

Suddenly, he let out a sharp hiss of pain, his breath hitching against your mouth. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight had finally vanished, leaving behind the stinging reality of the cut on his lip.

You pulled back just an inch, cupping his face with both hands. As you looked at him, the softness in your eyes sharpened into a look he knew all too well—the one that told him exactly how reckless and foolish he’d been.

“That hurt, didn’t it?” you whispered, your thumbs brushing just beside the bruise on his jaw.

Jongin looked down at you, still reeling from the kiss. He nodded, feeling embarrassed. “But don’t worry… I know it’s my fault.”

You didn’t even let him finish his sentence. Instead, you caught his hand and led him toward the sofa. He followed you silently and compliantly as you pushed him down into the cushions.

“Stay,” you commanded softly before turning to retrieve the first-aid kit.

When you returned, you climbed onto his lap, settling there with the kit balanced between you. The sudden proximity made his breath hitch; he looked utterly embarrassed, his gaze dropping as if he couldn’t quite handle how small he felt under your focused attention.

As you pulled out the antiseptic, you started the lecture. “You realize how many times we’ve had this conversation, right?” you murmured, your voice firm but low. You dipped a cotton pad in the solution and pressed it against the cut on his lip.

Jongin hissed, his entire body tensing as he nearly shut his eyes against the sting. His hands reached out instinctively, bunching the fabric of your hoodie in his fists, gripping it as if it were a lifeline. He didn’t pull away, though. He stayed perfectly still, letting you work even as he winced. You caught the way he was clinging to you, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips, which he didn’t see.

“You’re lucky it didn’t need stitches.” You moved the cotton to the bruise on his cheekbone. “What am I supposed to do with you, Jongin?”

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled.

When the last of the blood was cleaned away and the ointment was applied, you finally set the kit aside. You cupped his face, tilting his head up until he had no choice but to look at you. Then, you gave him a tiny, gentle peck on his forehead. Then another on his nose. And finally, one on his chin, avoiding the sore spot on his lip.

Under your touch, the last of his defensive walls crumbled. Jongin let out a long, shaky exhale and leaned into your palms, looking up at you with raw, searching eyes.

“Are you… still angry?” His voice was barely audible.

You looked at him for a long beat, then gave a slow, honest nod. “Of course.”

His face fell for a fraction of a second, but you didn’t move away. You weren’t going to lie to him, but you were also certain that you didn’t want him out of your life. Not tonight.

“Your boyfriend’s a dumb, mmh? I... I’m sorry, love.”

As your fingers began to comb through his hair, the tension finally left his body. Jongin loved the rhythmic slide of your fingers against his scalp, the quiet comfort, and the fact that… you were still there.

“Come on,” you said softly, shifting your weight. “Let’s go to bed.”

He opened his eyes wide. “You sure?” he asked softly. “I don’t... I don’t wanna bother you. I know I messed up.”

You met his gaze. “No more fighting, Jongin. Never or it’s over. For real this time.”

“For real,” he promised. The way he squeezed you in his arms made you believe him. “Shall I?” he asked, holding you closer. 

When you nodded, Jongin simply smiled and took you in his arms. He finally took you to bed, feeling completely safe in your arms, knowing this time he won’t disappoint you again.

The rain pattered down lightly on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dark apartment, there was an air of melancholy in the cold and dark space.

Sehun’s fingers hovered over the screen on the call button, debating within himself if he should just call you and call you over. The hollow ache in his chest was intense today—like it sometimes tend to get in moments like these, when he sat all alone and realized that he truly had no one to turn to.

He remembered your words from last weekend when he was over at your place, you both were nothing—not friends, not together, not even fuckbuddies. You both didn’t want to give it a name at all.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re anything.”

You had said easily, and Sehun even chuckled and agreed. But it seemed that you were not into it anymore, you didn’t want the push and pull of it all anymore.

That’s where you were tonight, on a date with some guy who Sehun didn’t know and you said you wanted this all to be over with Sehun. He knew you were putting yourself out now, but he still needed you here, and he knew that you’d never turn him down.

Against his friends’ advice and his own better judgement, he texted you.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you fixed your lipgloss in the mirror of the restaurant’s restroom—your date was a dick, your luck even bigger of a bitch. But you were still tolerating it all, anything to get Sehun off of your mind. You took a deep sigh and ran a hand through your hair, ready to go back outside for the dessert you had just ordered.

Seriously, you were dreading going back outside but you were just hoping to get some action with the guy, even if all he could seem to do was talk about how much of a ‘high value man’ he was and how he believed women of this generation should dress more feminine.

You grabbed your handbag, pulling it over your arm when your phone pinged in your hand suddenly—your heart hammered in your chest, there was a vague idea in your head of who was texting you on a Tuesday night. And you were afraid that if you checked the text, you wouldn’t have it in you to not run right to him.

A shaky sigh left your lips.

You turned the phone to yourself. There it was. His name on your lock screen. With a simple text message.

Sehun: Hi. wyd?

A silent war waged in your head and in your heart, if you answered his text, he would send you a simple ‘please’ and you wouldn’t be able to stop your feet from running to his apartment.

You: nothing what do you want, sehun?

You stared at your phone in the dim light of restroom, waiting for the reply, the dessert long forgotten. Then it suddenly hit you, the man you were on a date with was still outside and very much probably waiting for you.

Fuck Sehun and whatever he wants. You thought to yourself and put your phone in your handbag, for the final time you ran a hand through your hair and took a deep sigh.

You were just gonna get this date done with. Couldn’t be so hard.

With a soft and polite smile plastered on your face, you walked out of the restroom and to the table he was sat at. You didn’t even remember what his name was. Smoothly, you slid into your seat, passing him a small smile as he asked what took you so long in the restroom and how he was worried that you’d took off. You waved off his question with some stupid excuse.

Damn, you were a shitty date.

The sight of no dessert on the table made you frown, you had ordered a mousse before going to the restroom.

“Um, did they not bring my mousse yet?” Your tone was confused as you stared at your date with an expectant look in your eyes.

He laughed and shook his head, “Oh no, I think you’ve had enough, no? I told them to not bring the dessert when you were in the restroom. I don’t think you need to eat more.”

Was this guy joking or what? He couldn’t possibly serious about this, you felt like slapping him hard across the face to wipe off his smug and toothy smile.

Taking a deep sigh, you pushed your anger down and nodded with a forced smile. Just get it done with. There was absolutely no point arguing with this asshole who thought he could dictate how much you should eat or not. Since there was no dessert coming, the date came to an end quickly which you were thankful for. There was no words to describe your surprise when he asked you split the bill with him, but you just wanted to get out of here so you pulled out a wad of cash and put it in the bill.

Stepping out of restaurant and in the cool night air along with him was barely any relief—Sehun was still in the back of your mind, you wanted to check your phone to see if he had texted you back. Or did he apologise for how things had been going downhill between you both, maybe he didn’t text you at all and you were the one who was think—

“I think you’re nice but just not the girlfriend type, you know?” Your date suddenly said to you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Wow. The fucking audacity. You were late to tell him to fuck off first and how you hated the way the whole date had went, you wanted to tell him how this was the worst date you’d ever been on in your whole life. But he had opened his mouth first.

“No, I don’t. What do you even mean by that?” You tried your hardest to keep the bitterness out of your tone as you tried to assert over him a little.

“I mean,” he chuckled like it was funny and made a vague gesture to you with his hands. When you raised your eyebrows at him, silently demanding him to continue, he sighed and opened his mouth again, spewing a bunch of bullshit, “look, you don’t seem the type to date. You’re one those girls that one can never imagine in a relationship.”

Oh.

That affected you more than you’d liked to show.

This was the eighth time in your life someone had said this to you, and you absolutely hated this idea of being someone who could never be in a relationship.

“Right, anything else?” This time though, your voice was harsh and bitter as you scoffed at him, “it’s not like I’m dying to date you or something. Fuck off,” you turned on your heel and just walked onto the street. You could hear him calling you a bitch and a gold digger as you walked away, what a weird and entitled guy.

When you fell into a steady rhythm of steps on the sidewalk, you slowly pulled out your phone from your handbag for the obvious reason. You stared at the lock screen time—it wasn’t so late, the time read 11:28 PM.

And then you stared quietly at the bottom of the screen, where there was a message notification from Sehun. What were you doing? You told yourself you were over this weird routine you and him had going on. He was cryptic and eccentric.

But so were you. You didn’t want commitment or that whole nuisance—yet you craved being loved, and in an arrangement like this, there wasn’t such a thing as love. You both just have to make do with what was going on between each other.

Then you stared down at your lock screen again, at the text he had sent you to your question ‘what do you want?’. Damn this man, he always made you throw your rational thoughts out of the window.

Sehun: you. please?

And while, you were a cold and aloof person all the time and never put up with anyone’s bullshit. You still couldn’t stop yourself from the decision you were about to make.

Sehun’s stood in the middle of the kitchen, his fingers traced the edge of the kitchen’s countertop idly, the silence was deafening in his darkened apartment. He was losing hope. You weren’t gonna come tonight, were you? Seemed like you were really gonna distance yourself away from him.

Did your date turn out to be great? He wondered if you were with that man right now, had he laid his hands on you yet? Sehun’s mind spiralled with at vision of you with another man. He knew he was a jerk when he felt the slightest twinge of jealousy at the thought of a man—someone other than him, touching you. He had no right, now, did he.

Maybe, he was meant to be like this. All alone in the end. Without even much thinking, he dug his hands in one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a glass along with the bottle of vodka he kept there for this exact reason. He didn’t didn’t want to go back to his old ways, especially the ones that caused him great deal of damage.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to think about that right now.

But his hands shook as he poured himself the vodka in the glass—to the brim, neat. His grip on the glass was tight as he lifted it up and brought it to his lips, taking a big swig of it. The alcohol burned its way down his throat and he sighed deeply, almost unaffected by it.

A pang of irritation hit him as he thought about his high alcohol tolerance and realized that it takes him more than usual alcohol to at least quieten the noise in his head. With a loud groan, he leaned over the countertop, pressing his forehead down on the cold marble of the top.

Fuck this, he was a mess, he thought to himself.

He was drifting deep into his self-deprecating voices when a knock at the front door pulled him out of his thoughts.

Not the doorbell, no. But a soft and impatient knocking. Like whoever was on the other side was almost second guessing on knocking the door.

He straightened up so fast he almost got whiplash, his hands hastily ran through his hair to fix them a little, his hands patting repeatedly on the zip-up hoodie he was wearing to fix it a little.

Sehun cursed himself when he felt his knees going a little shaky as he walked to the door, internally praying to himself that it was none other than you.

His prayers had definitely been heard when he peeked through the peephole of the door and found you standing there, staring at your feet quietly. Sehun couldn’t believe the speed at which his hands unlocked the door and pulled the door open. Standing face to face with you.

You stuffed your hands in the pocket of your jacket, your clothes and hair were slightly damp with the light rain that had been pouring since the evening. Shifting from one foot to another, you both just stared at each other.

Sehun seemed to notice that your mascara was a bit smudged, had you been crying? Maybe it was from the rain. He looked you over—taking in your outfit, you were dressed a little formally, of course, a silk button-up shirt under the leather jacket paired with brown pants. You had been on a date so it made sense.

“Uh, come in,” he finally seemed to snap out of his thoughts as stepped aside for you come in.

You stepped in with ease like you’d belonged here—you’d been here several times so it wasn’t wrong to say that. Your eyes scanned the area, there was barely any lighting on in the apartment. The curtains were drawn open from all windows, the only lighting in the living room coming from the city’s lights through the windows.

“Your friend told that you had a date today, how’d it go?” He asked nonchalantly, closing the door and locking it as you made your way deeper into the living room and plopped down on the couch, putting your handbag on the table.

A little chuckle left your lips as you stared at him, he stood by the couch, your eyes were glassy and twinkling in the dim light, “it was okay,” you shrugged casually. The words were still on your mind, you questioned yourself about it over and over and over again.

Could you really never be in a relationship? Is that what type of a person you were—hard to handle, hard to keep.

“You look good,” Sehun smiled down at you as he sat down next to you, close enough that your knees and shoulders were touching. Still not close enough for him though.

“Yeah? Tell me something new,” you let out a low scoff, turning your head to stare at him. His eyes were were like two dark pools of black holes, something which seemed you pull you in more and more the more you stared into them.

His hand creeped its way onto your clothed arm, he traced random circles onto it as he held your eyes, “you can pretend all you want. You can pretend that you don’t care,” at that, he earned a soft laugh from you as you shook your head. You both stared at each other in silence for a long time.

Before you knew, he was pressing his lips to the corner of your lips, a smile on his lips as they moved to your jaw with light kisses and then finally back to your lips, hand pressed at the small of your back as he pulled you in impossibly close.

Your lips moved against his automatically, reciprocating, matching his tempo with equal passion.

His lips moved slow and deep, like he was trying to memorise your taste all over again, he tasted of sharp alcohol mixed with something metallic, something uniquely him. Sehun had a way with how he kissed, languid, deep and passionate. It always left your heart hammering harsh against your ribcage, your knees weak and your brain mush.

“I missed you, was so scared that you weren’t gonna come,” he mumbled against your lips, almost breathless, he could feel his heart beating in his ears when you shook your head and mumbled back a soft ‘I missed you too’.

“Mm? You missed me? Of course, you did. Those guys don’t get you the way I do,” he pulled away to catch his breath, you and him both breathless from the deep kissing. His eyes twinkled as pressed soft kisses to your jaw and the column of your throat.

You nodded, hands gripping his hoodie tight and moving even closer, “yeah, they don’t,” you whispered in the dark of the room, pressing your lips to his lips again. Your arms wrapped around his neck with a possessiveness that was at odds with what you both were.

Both of you stayed entangled like that for a bit more, until the thunder cracked loudly outside, the rain falling heavier now—prompting you both to pull away. Sehun stared down at you, hands gripping the sleeve of your leather jacket which was still damp, “let me take this off of you, it’s damp.”

A soft chuckle bubbled from our your throat as you nodded, standing up and letting him shrug the damp jacket off you, he grabbed it from you, putting it aside and disappeared into the bedroom to grab a towel for you to dry your hair—which you both had been too busy and entangled with eachother to notice.

Walking out of the bedroom with a soft towel in his hands, he handed it to you, you took it from him, rubbing your hair with it, “you’ve been drinking?” The words came out more surprised than you intended them to be, you cocked your head to the glass full of vodka on the countertop of the kitchen, along with the bottle too.

“Yeah,” he just shrugged casually before staring out of the window at the heavy rain and thunderstorm. The lightning painting the dark sky in a beautiful blue and white hue of colors, “how’d you get here in such heavy rain?”

Turning on your heel, you stared out of the window too, before replying in a soft tone, “walked, you know i like to get my steps done. But it wasn’t raining heavily when i came here, also it’s barely raining on the other side of the city.”

Sehun and you just stared out of the window in heavy silence, the air between you both was heavy with unspoken thoughts and a million unsaid words. You wanted to ask him about whether you were someone he could ever see in a relationship. Yep, those words from earlier were still weighing down on your mind. Sehun wanted to ask you if anyone could ever actually come and take his place from your life. Both of you were entangled in your extreme loneliness, afraid to confront it, afraid to face the fears.

The bliss in ignorance.

“Are you gonna stay the night?” He suddenly asked, turning over, finally taking his gaze off the window and looking at you, fingers fiddling quietly.

In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to ask you that, there were rarely any occasions that you both stayed the night at each other’s places, often avoiding that sort of intimacy.

“I think i might, it’s raining hard. Makes it difficult to find a cab back home,” there was uncertainty in your voice as you looked at his face quietly, trying to read his response quietly.

“Okay,” he just nodded, moving to the kitchen, draining the glass of vodka down the kitchen sink and putting the bottle aside.

“This bastard is a sore loser and just can’t accept that he can also lose a game, now, can you, Chanyeol?”

Junmyeon’s voice echoed with playful anger in the lively living room as Chanyeol groaned and threw his cards down, starting to argue how Junmyeon and Yixing had partnered up against him and had been cheating through out the whole game.

Baekhyun joined in on the argument, taking Chanyeol’s side, listing out points that Junmyeon was being unfair and so on. Sehun just watched his friends fighting over the most stupidest shit in his life, laughing his lungs out.

The argument was cut off suddenly by the loud ringing from Sehun’s phone on the table, your name lighting up the screen. Baekhyun let out the loudest groan of annoyance known to mankind as Sehun reached for the phone quickly.

“Nah, man, you’re with us right now, it’s boys night. No girls are gonna interrupt you tonight, put the phone down.” Chanyeol moved to snatch the phone out of the younger man’s hands, but Sehun dodged it, glaring at his friends.

They began arguing with him, complaining about how his friends should be above than that. But soon it died down.

Everyone quietened down in the room as the phone continued ringing and Sehun just silently stared at your name on his phone. Yixing sighed and leaned back, “it’s not just any girl now, is it, c’mon guys, get it.”

The ringing stopped as Sehun didn’t pick it up. He really didn’t plan to pick up your call—but silently, in his heart, he made a quick decision to himself. If you were to call him again, he’ll pick it up.

“Sehun, you’re unfair as fuck. You barely ever hang out with us anymore, and the one time you finally do, even then you’re not present with us and your mind is somewhere.” Baekhyun groaned, plopping himself down on the couch. He stared over at Sehun as he sat back down and gestured to continue the game quietly, “I’m serious, I hate this girl. She’s all for half-measures, and you still go running to her each time she calls. I thought you said you were gonna stay away for good this time.”

Sehun couldn’t care less, he just shrugged off Baekhyun’s words with a wave of his hand.

Baekhyun and the others picked up the cards again, getting back to the game. And the game had barely even started getting somewhere when the phone begin ringing again, your name on the screen.

Nonetheless everything, Sehun quietly grabbed the phone and just stepped out into the balcony despite his friends constant yelling at him from behind and calling him back.

As soon as he picked up the call and held the phone to his ear, your sad and frustrated voice filled the air, “I can’t do this, i swear! I just thought that maybe i could salvage what me and my dad had, we could be nice with each other, but he’s just so stuck up his own ass.”

His eyes stared at the twinkling lights of the star in the dark sky above, “what’d he say, hm?”

“That the phone works two ways, and if he doesn’t call, then i should. He said i was a coward for moving out and that i was extremely hard to deal with,” your voice broke at the end of the sentence, your breath catching in your throat as you sniffled, very much trying to hold back your tears and trying not to cry to Sehun.

“Are you out somewhere or at your apartment?”

“Not home, I’m at some club. Don’t know where, to be honest,” you told him with a shaky voice. Sehun had his own doubts that you might’ve even drank.

“Send me your location and stay where you are, I’m coming,” he moved quick, going back inside and grabbing his car keys and jacket.

On his way out the front door of Chanyeol’s place, Junmyeon took him aside and really tried to persuade him to stay—to not leave for some girl who wasn’t even his girlfriend, his situationship, or even just a friend.

But nothing could stop Sehun from getting to you after hearing the hiccups in your voice from the phone.

When Sehun had arrived at the location you sent, you had gotten into a verbal fight with some girls just right outside of the nightclub’s entrance, throwing loud insults and pushing each other and what not. He had pulled you away from them with a lot of convincing and sat you down in the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to your place.

You were tipsy, tethering the edge between fully drunk and sober.

“You didn’t have to come and get me, y’know,” you mumbled lazily as you languidly sat down on your bed, kicking your shoes off. Sehun was towering over you silently.

He didn’t say anything to that, didn’t have to.

You fiddled your fingers in your lap, finally lifting your gaze to stare up at him, he was already staring at you with those sharp eyes of his, “i was apologising to him, thinking maybe i could fix it all. But he didn’t care enough.”

You were pretty stuck on your dad, still.

The tears came quick and free, flowing down your face. Your shoulders wracked with silent sobs, he didn’t do anything, didn’t interrupt you—or tried to soothe you with empty words, just quietly moved to sit beside you at the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think it’s your responsibility to fix anything with him, sweetheart,” his voice the softest you’ve ever heard him speak to anyone at all.

“I know…”

“Then why’re you so adamant on disappointing yourself with each time you call him?”

A heavy sigh left your lips as you stared down at your lap, rubbing your eyes to stop the tears from flowing, “I don’t know.”

Sehun moved to gently take you in his arms, you sobbed softly, shaky and tired, his warm, big hands ran up and down the expanse of your back as you burrowed yourself deeper into his chest. Your head was tucked under his chin, your body shaking with soft little sobs.

The only sound that you could hear right now was the sounds of crickets chirping outside your window. Your gaze was fixed on the ceiling, you held the duvet to yourself even tighter as you tried as hard as you could to fall asleep. But nothing was working. You’d tried the warm glass of milk, tried lying down on your stomach, tried reading a book—nothing worked. You were so tired but still so sleepless. It had been almost three hours since you’ve been in bed and still unable to sleep.

You hadn’t even seen Sehun in several weeks, after that night with crying in his arms and what not vulnerable foolishness you’ve done, you and him finally began to distance for good. It was something you were grateful for, because it was clear that it was the better thing for you both.

When you had went to sleep that night, you woke up the next morning with nothing in your head but him—and he had left before you were even awake. You realized one thing, this thing that was going on between you and him left you feeling all hollow and empty from inside in the aftermath of it.

That was the exact point that you both began to be distant simultaneously, he didn’t text you much afterwards, you didn’t bother calling him anymore, too.

It was going great. Finally getting some stability in your routine, no more sudden dopamine rushes that soon turned to heartaches, no more 3 AM texts from him, no more late-night calling him and crying to him about your issues.

But the universe definitely had other plans.

Because when you finally felt that sleep was coming to you, your eyelids beginning to droop. There was sudden rapid knocking at the door, impatient and demanding, jolting you out of your half-asleep state. Whoever it was, they didn’t even bother ringing your doorbell—was just banging your front door.

You stepped out of the bed, barefoot on the cold floor as you looked over at the digital clock on your bedside table, the digital numbers on the screen glowing in the dark, the time read 02:53 AM.

It was almost 3 in the morning, it led you to extreme confusion and worry, who could even be at your door at this hour.

The knocking turned even impatient, but not angry. With hasty movements, you grabbed your robe and put it on your body to cover yourself a little before you padded out of your bedroom and to the front door.

Upon the opening the door, you discovered the man standing on the other side to be who you least expected it to be.

Sehun.

What was he doing here? He looked a little messed up, clothes disheveled, hair messy and all. It had really began to seem like that Sehun wasn’t gonna be in your life anymore and to be fair, you pretended to be happy and grateful with that. But now he was here, out of the blue, at 3 in the morning.

“Thank god, i was almost beginning to think you were out for good, like dreaming real hard,” he just chuckled casually and pushed his way in your apartment easily.

As he passed by you, you couldn’t help but notice how he reeked so strongly of cheap feminine perfume, your head connected the dots quietly as you closed the door behind him and stepped back in, too.

Someone had left him high and dry for you to clean the mess up. Yet again.

He lazily plopped down on your couch, groaning softly as he stretched his legs straight. Finally, he took in the state of your apartment, dark and clean, you were definitely in bed but insomniac, he thought to himself.

“You want a drink?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen, when he answered a soft yes. Your hands gripped two glasses and a bottle of half-drank rum, walking back into the living room.

The glasses clinked loudly against the table as you placed them down, pouring him and yourself a drink, you picked up your glass, swirling the amber liquid inside it slowly before you sat down on the couch beside the one he was sat on.

“It’s quite the timing, Sunday night, 3 in the morning, you start banging my door all unannounced, wouldn’t you say?” You finally voiced the thoughts running through your head.

Sehun just took a slow sip of the amber liquid, the alcohol burned deliciously down his throat, he was deep in thought, thinking about something hard before he chuckled and looked over at you, “don’t act as if you didn’t miss me.”

“I wasn’t dying to see you, Sehun.”

“Maybe,” he just smiled at you, drinking more from the glass, “but you still definitely missed me.”

“Plus, no one does it for you like I do,” he leaned his head back, a frown between his eyebrows but a cocky smile on his lips. Like he was trying to put up a front. His classic behaviour, whenever there was something weighing heavily on his mind he only took one way out of it.

Dissimulation and being cryptic. It was so Sehun.

“Well, no one does it for you like I do, too. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come here at 3 in the morning,” you shot back, taking a swig of the drink in your hands, “whoever it was, she couldn’t manage to keep you invested long enough to stay, now, could she.”

Sehun didn’t say anything, just stared at you, he didn’t deny your words. But he didn’t regard them with a response, too, as if you both weren’t something significant enough to admit to that.

“This is the last time, I’m gonna stay away for good after this once,” he suddenly said, almost to himself as he immediately pulled you into his lap. His hands gripped your waist tight and he stared up at you, your hands snaking around his neck.

“Me too, this isn’t good, it’s toxic and stupid. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not good, for neither of us. We’re gonna stay away after this,” you agreed, trying to convince yourself, your lips crashing to his in a deep and searing kiss, his hands pulling you impossibly closer as you both tangled on the couch.

Yet the same cycle would repeat again.

That was the truth, and you both knew the truth, this would happen again. And again and again and again. He could lie to himself, you could lie to yourself all you wanted to. You could act like you didn’t miss his touch, didn’t miss his lips, he could do the same. But you and him knew the truth.

It was impossible to stay away from each other. Even if it drained you, even if it burned him, in the worst of ways possible. Even then, you both couldn’t resist the presence of one another, the touch, the fleeting kisses, the fluttering of heartbeats.

Couldn’t resist the dizzying overnight rush of it all, even if it left you both feeling aching and hollow afterwards.

You and him would go running right back to each other, no matter how many times you try to stay away from one another.

After taking a large sip of the tea, you pick the note off the table, putting it in your bag for safekeeping. After setting down your belongings and tea in your room, you change into more comfortable clothes and wander into the living room where you knew you’d find Baekhyun. 

He was quietly reading on the couch, glasses slipping down his nose. He appeared so serene as golden rays of sunlight cast over him, making him appear as if he was glowing. He looked up, hearing your footsteps drawing closer, and a smile gradually grew on his face. “Hey, how was everything at the shelter?” 

You plopped yourself next to him, sinking into the cushions of the sofa. “Same old, same old,” you tell him. “Ran the front desk today, showed some people around, and did paperwork. Got asked if I was dating Chanyeol, but overall, it was pretty uneventful. I guess that’s good, in a sense.”

Baekhyun loved hearing you talking about your day. He loved listening to your voice and learning about all the things that brought you joy. He especially loved it when you were talking about him. Which is why this time, when he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“I think I forgot my tea in my room,” you realize, standing up from the couch to grab the mug before it gets cold. “Thanks for making me some, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Baekhyun responded. Anything for you, he wanted to say, but he swallowed those words down with another sip from his mug. 

You and Baekhyun were college classmates and reconnected after graduation when a mutual friend was looking for people to take over the lease on their apartment. Living with Baekhyun started off as chill since he was always kind and surprisingly thoughtful. Out of habit, he’d make himself tea throughout the day, and from the moment he caught you sneaking a sip, he started making two cups. One for him and one for you. Aside from that, he liked to leave notes around the place. Little things that kept you going through the week, sometimes reminding you to buy more dish soap, or saying he took out the trash but went out to buy more bags. 

He was understanding in ways you had never expected a roommate to be, and he also didn’t question your relationship with Chanyeol whenever you brought him over. But unbeknownst to you, Baekhyun watched how naturally you and Chanyeol mesh together, and the more you bring him over, the more Baekhyun feels like he’s losing something, even if it was something he never really had. 

The next weekend, Chanyeol is over at your place once again, effortlessly helping you cook dinner and joking around as if he lived there. Chanyeol set the table while you cleaned off the stove before going to Baekhyun’s room, telling him that dinner is ready. It felt almost like domestic bliss in the way that the three of you came to the table and enjoyed a meal together. 

Baekhyun ate quietly, watching you and Chanyeol banter and laugh with each other. It’s like he was looking through glass, as if he were in a separate room. He didn’t feel that it was his place to play around with Chanyeol when they barely knew each other. Chanyeol is your friend, not his. 

Despite that, Baekhyun hung around after finishing his meal and started washing the dishes. “You guys cooked, I’ll handle cleaning up.” 

Shortly after, Chanyeol excused himself from the table, saying he would be heading out. You walked him to the door and bid farewell, closing the door gently as the smile faded from your cheeks the further Chanyeol got from you. 

You fell into place next to Baekhyun, standing in front of the sink as he scrubbed the dishes and rinsed them clean. Grabbing a spare towel, you began drying the items Baekhyun set aside. The silence between the two of you was comfortable and familiar, filled by the movement of water, crackling of soap, and clinking of plates and silverware until Baekhyun spoke. “He’s easy to love, isn’t he?”

You pause in the middle of drying a plate. “What do you mean?”

Baekhyun handed you a fork. “Nothing. Just observing.”

“He’s just a friend,” you tell him, though deep down, it feels like you’re trying to reassure yourself, too. 

Baekhyun hummed as he accepted the answer, letting the conversation die out. His head was swimming with thoughts, and he told himself that maybe what he saw was just an illusion. The way you laughed at Chanyeol’s jokes, the way your cheeks rose into a smile whenever he was around. Or if those weren’t an illusion, certainly the way you treated him must be. The way you would keep his notes after reading them as if they were something precious, or the way you talked to him about anything that came to mind as if there were no limits between the two of you. 

Maybe it would be better if everything were an illusion. 

The weight in Baekhyun’s chest grew heavier every time he saw you with Chanyeol. Your conversations with Chanyeol flowed so effortlessly, the way he made you smile as if it was second nature, and the way he hovered so close to you whenever he was in the apartment. All of it made Baekhyun ache with envy, craving to be the one that you were talking to, despite knowing he would have his turn at the end of the day. 

Baekhyun felt out of place in his own apartment the day you and Chanyeol brought home two stray dogs, claiming “they needed a bath” before they could be brought into the shelter. Baekhyun knew better than to complain and become the cause of the face you would make at him, something comparable to a sad, wet kitten. 

Yet he soon wore his own sad, wet kitten face as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, and you caught him with a misplaced jet of water in the midst of trying to get Chanyeol back for spraying you. “Sorry!” You shout to Baekhyun over the mess of soap and laughter you and Chanyeol had created.

Baekhyun only shook his head while closing the bathroom door, muttering under his breath about how he had “just finished laundry.” 

After the door clicks shut, Chanyeol turns to you. “What’s gotten into him? He’s been all brooding recently.”

You think back to your conversation with Baekhyun after dinner, and things started to click together. The more you brought Chanyeol over, the more distant Baekhyun was. Yet you swore to him that Chanyeol was just a friend, and you would never lie to him. Just what was going on in that pretty little head of his? 

You shrug as you return your mind to the situation at hand, the dogs. “I’m not sure, but let’s get these little guys cleaned up and dried.”

Chanyeol nodded in agreement. “Do you think Baekyun would be mad if we used one of his towels?”

You laughed at the joke, but Baekhyun didn’t as he stood on the other side of the bathroom door. He never left. He only fled from his spot when he heard the ruffling of towels come to a stop and your voice saying, “okay, I think they should be dry enough now.” Hardly even a second later, the bathroom door was creaking open, and you stepped out with one of the dogs in your arms. You were so engrossed in the way it tiredly rested its muzzle on your shoulder that you didn’t catch the tail ends of Baekhyun disappearing into his room. 

You and Chanyeol left the apartment with the dogs wrapped in towels. Both of them had been so thoroughly exhausted from the bath that they had to be carried to Chanyeol’s car. You felt similar as you helped Chanyeol load them into the back seat, but the fatigue finally hit you while watching him drive off, his license plate growing smaller and smaller until he made the turn out of your neighborhood. 

After returning to your apartment, you made quick work of cleaning up the bathroom and yourself, opting for comfortable clothes and a nap. It was still early in the afternoon, there were still tons of time left in the day, you told yourself. 

By the time you woke, the sun was casting a golden orange glow through the flat, and you could hear the faint sounds of Baekhyun in the kitchen. You threw the blankets off your body, wishing you could enjoy their warmth just a bit longer, but you were not about to let Baekhyun make dinner alone. 

“What are you making?” You asked, leaning against the refrigerator. 

“Curry and rice,” Baekhyun responded dryly, not even sparing you a glance.

You step closer to him and peer into the large pot he was stirring. “Anything I can help with?”

He shook his head. “It’s almost done.”

You weren’t going to take that as an answer. “Surely, there must be something I can do.”

He sighed. “If you really want to make yourself useful, you can get out the bowls and spoons.” 

With ease, you pulled two bowls out from the cabinet along with two spoons from a drawer. “Done,” you announce proudly.

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at the set and finally looks at you. “Only two?”

“What? Was I supposed to grab more?” You question.

“No, I just thought– never mind.” Baekhyun opened the rice cooker and scooped a generous serving into both bowls. 

“Whaaaaat?” You whine, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “Tell meeeee.”

He glanced over at you, casting a half-hearted smile as he ladled curry over the rice. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing if it’s got you all moody and brooding like this.” Baekhyun paused. You used that word, that same word Chanyeol had used earlier. Brooding. Baekhyun had never had anyone describe himself as ‘brooding’ before, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. 

“I’m not brooding,” he snapped. 

“Yes, you are,” you responded in the same manner, swiping a bowl from the counter along with a spoon. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this is all about Chanyeol and how you’re jealous that I spend more time with him than I do with you.” You storm off, taking your food with you to the couch in the living area. 

Baekhyun followed like he always did. “And what if it is?”

You sit down on one end of the couch, back against the armrest, with one knee to your chest as the other hangs off the cushion. “Then I expect you to talk to me like a man and say it instead of moping around like a child.”

“Okay, then I will.” He sat at the other end, hardly even a foot away from you. “I’m jealous.”

You had barely taken your first bite of the curry when he confessed. A sly smirk spread on your face. “And why are you jealous?”

He exhaled heavily through his nose before setting his bowl on the table next to the couch. “I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having over dinner.”

“This isn’t dinner if neither of us are eating.” You set your bowl next to his. “Let’s talk.”

He looks between you and your bowl in disbelief, rolling his eyes and looking away from you. “I don’t want to.”

“Then why’d you follow me here?” You press. 

“I just–I didn’t want you to leave me.” He spoke so quietly it was nearly a whisper, and yet it tore at your heart. 

You moved over until you were sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, yet he refused to look at you. “Hey,” you begin, gently hooking your index finger under his chin and pulling him to face you. “I won’t leave you.”

He stared at you, intense and quiet. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Your face twisted in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like I’m someone that matters to you when I’m not–”

“But you are.” 

“Clearly not when Chanyeol’s around!” 

A heavy silence settled over the two of you, and you welcomed it. Your hand fell from Baekhyun’s face and into your lap, but you kept your gaze on him. He made a move to stand, but you grabbed his wrist. “Sit down,” you said softly, more of a plea than a command. He froze and stood staring at the floor, neither sitting nor leaving. 

“Chanyeol is my friend,” you continued as steadily as you could manage. “He’s always been my friend. That’s all it is.” Baekhyun didn’t answer, but you saw his jaw tighten. “Do you think I talk to him the way I talk to you? Do you think I tell him anything and everything the way I tell you? Do you think I let him see me when I’m tired, frustrated, at my worst, when I’m in my room and haven’t washed my hair in days?” His eyes finally flicked toward you. “I’ve never shown myself this way to anyone except you.” Baekhyun didn’t respond, but something shifted in the air– like he finally allowed himself to hope. “I spend time with Chanyeol,” you acknowledge, voice lowering, “but I wait for you. You’re the one I come home to every day.”

Baekhyun’s gaze hardened at the mention of his name. “Then why does it feel like I always come second?”

You exhaled shakily, hand squeezing tightly around his wrist. “I don’t know what this is yet,” you admitted. “I just know that when you’re not okay…I feel it.”

He didn’t respond, but he finally sat down next to you. You tried to smile, to lighten the mood, or to thank him for staying, anything to distract you from the ache in your chest. “No smiling at me like that,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to fall apart. 

But then you leaned in, and he met you halfway. The kiss wasn’t perfect, but it was hungry, hesitant, and full of everything you both had been holding back. Baekhyun kissed you as if his life depended on it, his hands falling to your waist while yours ran up his chest and sat on his shoulders. When you finally pulled away, both of you fighting for air, he didn’t move. 

“I already knew that was going to hurt,” he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to say, so instead you just stayed. You stayed close enough to him to prove that you wouldn’t leave him this time. 

Days after the kiss, things didn’t return to normal, but they didn’t fall apart…yet. There were countless nights of you staying in each other's spaces, though not quite crossing the boundary between the two of you. The distance was charged and sensitive. Neither of you said much. Baekhyun didn’t push, and you didn’t promise him anything you weren’t ready to give. But when you lay in his bed and interlocked your pinky with his, he didn’t move away. 

Everything came to a head on a late Tuesday evening. Chanyeol had forgotten his wallet at your place, and you stood outside the apartment building waiting for him. You spotted him walking toward you from where his car was parked at the far end of the lot, his hair damp from a shower, and his jacket half-zipped as if he had left in a hurry. 

He smiled when he saw you, but it quickly faded when he saw Baekhyun trailing behind, hovering just inside the entrance to the building. “Hey,” Chanyeol says loud enough for Baekhyun to hear, his eyes flicking between the two of you. “Why did he come down with you?” He asked, this time only for your ears. You turn around to glance at Baekhyun. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you. You turn back to Chanyeol, his brows pinched while staring back at Baekhyun. “Did something happen?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your eyes darting between Chanyeol’s. “Not exactly,” you murmur while trying to avoid the way Baekhyun’s gaze warms the back of your neck. 

Chanyeol’s brows furrow further, concerned. “Is he bothering you?”

You let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “No. He’s not the problem.”

Chanyeol watches you closely, his voice dipping lower. “Then what is?”

You glance down at your hands, then back at him. “You’ve always had this way of pulling me toward you even when I’m already leaning somewhere else.” He blinks, caught off guard. “I just…I need to figure something out, and I can’t really hear myself think when I feel like I’m being watched for the answer. 

Chanyeol looks over your shoulder towards Baekhyun, and his expression shifts. “Oh.” The silence stretches until Chanyeol exhales, long and slow. “Do I need to step back?”

You don’t say yes. But you don’t say no, either. You just meet his eyes, full of kindness and warmth. And that much was enough. Chanyeol nods, backing away with quiet understanding, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t press for more, he never has. “Take care of yourself, okay?” He says softly. 

You give him a small nod. “You too.”

Once he’s gone, the space around you feels bigger. Quieter. Behind you, Baekhyun hasn’t moved, and you don’t turn around, not yet. The breeze seems to whisper with everything left unsaid, and for now, that’s all there is. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Groove - K.Jongin 

"You," she whispered, the weight of the truth settling heavily upon her. "It was all you."

She was not naive; she understood the ministers' discontent with her influence over Baekhyun throughout his reign. Their persistent attempts to sway him, offering their daughters as concubines to bolster their own power and threaten her position, had not escaped her notice. Their frustration must have reached its zenith when her husband adamantly refused their advances, steadfast in his commitment to her as his one and only empress.

"Hm? I'm not sure I understand what you're implying," the man smirked, his deceptive tone belying his words. "We've long suspected there was more to you, Your Imperial Majesty. It appears you're indeed a demon, effortlessly manipulating the emperor. Surely a man of his stature would desire more than one woman by his side?"

Struggling against the guards' grasp, she retorted weakly, "You vile cowards. You'll rue the day my husband learns of this..."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, revealing their sinister plot. They had bided their time, seizing the perfect opportunity amidst the chaos of war. With Baekhyun, the virtuous emperor she had wished him to be, leading the army, they saw their chance to poison her, framing her as a demon to eradicate her while he was away.

"Or perhaps we'll witness the rise of the ambitious emperor we've long awaited. He will finally be able to reach his full potential without you here obstructing his path," he sneered, gesturing towards the approaching healer with another bowl of poison. "Just comply and drink your tonic, Your Imperial Majesty. Your suffering will soon end, and our nation will thrive under the rule of a new emperor, liberated from your naive ideals."

As the sinister men tightened their grip, she sobbed in agony, the relentless headache from the past month resurfacing with a vengeance. Each touch felt like a dagger through her skull, each word a cruel reminder of her plight.

With an apologetic bow of his head, the healer cupped her jaw, his hands trembling as he forced the bowl of poison towards her lips. "Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling with remorse. "This will be the last one, I promise."

She gagged as the bitter liquid slid down her throat, burning with each swallow. Crimson tears streamed down her white face as she choked on the vile concoction, feeling her strength wane with each passing moment. In that desperate moment, all she could do was pray for salvation from the nightmare consuming her.

As the healer finally released his hold, she felt despair engulf her. The bitter poison settled within her damaged insides, coursing through her veins like a silent killer, slowly consuming her from within.

"It is done, my lord. The empress will not survive through the night," the healer declared, his voice carrying a finality that chilled her to the bone.

The minister's grin widened with satisfaction. "Excellent. Arrange for someone to confirm her death by dawn. Let her enjoy her final moments in the comforts of her own chambers. His Imperial Majesty will surely be grateful we've rid him of his treacherous demon of a wife upon his return from war."

Laying limply in the centre of her grand chambers, the very space she had once despised before ascending to empress, memories flooded her mind. She recalled the scepticism that clouded her heart when she first found herself falling for the crown prince of the nation. After all, history had taught her that no happy endings awaited the women who loved emperors. But Baekhyun was different—he was loving, caring, and considerate, going to great lengths to prove his devotion to her.

He swore never to take concubines, to resist the allure of power, and to remain hers, and hers alone. Despite the admiration of the entire nation, he remained committed to prioritising her above all else, even if it meant drawing the ire of his ministers and officials. Their accusations of his partiality towards his empress over his nation only served to strengthen his resolve, his unwavering loyalty to her.

But now, as she lay weakened by poison, she realised the tragic irony of his goodness. It was his very commitment to righteousness that led him to the battlefield, refusing to let his men fight in his stead. And it was this decision that ultimately sealed their fate, leaving her to face the consequences of his noble intentions.

As the darkness closed in around her, she couldn't help but wonder how Baekhyun would react upon returning to find her lifeless form in this state. Would he succumb to the poisonous words of his ministers, believing their accusations that she had been a demon all along? Would he entertain the notion that she had bewitched him, clouding his judgement and leading him astray?

Or would he remain firm in his loyalty, unwavering in his belief that this was nothing more than a cruel ploy to rid him of her for good? In the depths of her fading consciousness, she desperately clung to the hope that he would see through the lies, that his love for her would prevail over doubt.

On the brink of death, she yearned to trust in his endless devotion to her, to believe that he would never doubt the love they shared. It was a fragile hope, but in that moment, it was all she had to cling to as she slipped further into the darkness, awaiting the inevitable arrival of dawn and the fate it would eventually bring.

"Forgive me for not being strong enough, Baek," she whispered into the stillness of the chamber, her voice barely a breath against the heavy silence. "Please don't blame yourself for any of this."

As the darkness threatened to swallow her entirely, she couldn't help but reflect on the warnings of history, the cautionary tales of women who loved emperors, only to meet tragic ends. Once again, it seemed, she had fallen victim to the same fate.

Her vision blurred with crimson tears as memories flooded her mind—moments shared with Baekhyun before he departed for battle, blissfully unaware that they would be their last. Each memory stung with bittersweet intensity, a painful reminder of what could have been, had fate been kinder.

As her life ebbed away, flashes of cherished moments with him flickered through her mind like scattered stars in the night sky.

Wrapped in the warmth of silk sheets, doubts clouded her mind one morning, questioning her husband's resolve to remain faithful amidst the pressures of his position.

"Would you truly refuse to take any concubines, Baek?" she inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty. "You're aware that the ministers and officials desire it, and perhaps even the citizens of our nation. For all we know, the people might have grown weary of this same dull empress who has yet to bear you an heir."

He drew her close, pulling the silk sheets higher to shield her bare form from the chill seeping through the open windows. Pressing a tender kiss upon her head, he smiled reassuringly. "Never, my love. I do not care for their political machinations. I won't forsake my vow to you. You will remain my only wife, that is final. I did not ask to be emperor, the role was thrust upon me. Now that I am here, they should at least be grateful I am fulfilling my general duties."

She chuckled, nestling into the crook of his neck as he added, "Besides, if the ministers and officials are so displeased, they could just dismiss me. That would be even better; we could live in a quiet little village, just as we've always dreamed."

In another memory, standing before her reflection, plagued by insecurities instilled by the scheming ministers, his unwavering admiration melted her fears away.

"You look beautiful, my empress. You always do," he reassured, approaching from behind to envelop her in his arms.

"Not as beautiful as those young maidens, I fear. I am old," she confessed, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness after witnessing the ministers' attempts to seduce the emperor with their daughters.

Baekhyun gently turned her to face him. "If you're old, then I must be ancient," he teased. "I believe it's only fitting that I am with someone my age, and that's you, my empress. I have no interest in marrying children or anyone else for that matter; I am a taken man. Don't you dare compare yourself to anyone else again, you hear me? You're the most beautiful woman in my eyes, and that's all that matters."

In the final embrace before he departed for war, hearts heavy with the uncertainty of his return, they clung to each other.

"I will be back before you know it, my love. You'll wait for me, won't you?" her husband murmured against her neck, his arms tightening around her.

"Where else would I go, you idiot? Of course, I'll be waiting right here," she retorted, tightening her hold around his shoulders.

Amidst tears and laughter, he leaned in to kiss her deeply, pressing his lips against her soft ones over and over again to imprint the sensation into memory.

"I love you, my empress," Baekhyun whispered against her lips before pulling away, his eyes full of love and determination.

In the quiet of her chamber, she found solace in the fleeting recollections, clinging to them as the darkness threatened to consume her entirely. And as the crimson tears clouded her eyes once more, she resigned herself to the inevitable, silently bidding farewell to the life she once knew.

"I love you too, my emperor."

"I will not ask again, where is she?!" the emperor's voice thundered through the throne room as he stormed back into the palace, abandoning the battle upon learning the shocking revelation. According to the Minister of Rites in his letter, the empress had been discovered to be a demon all along, concealing her true nature under human skin to manipulate him and bend him to her will.

The eunuch panicked and fell to his knees. "Th-the empress is confined to her grand chambers, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Without uttering another word, Baekhyun stormed over immediately, his heart thumping loudly against his chest as fury overtook his being. Betrayal flooded his veins; he was seething with anger.

"You will regret lying to me," he growled under his breath, his vision zeroing in on the path towards her chambers, the place he frequented more than his own. "You will regret deceiving me."

Upon reaching the entrance of her chambers, he turned to the eunuch. "Gather all the ministers and officials who played a part in discovering the empress as what they claimed her to be in the throne room. I wish to speak with them soon."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the eunuch hurriedly replied before darting off to carry out his orders. Baekhyun steadied his breaths, his hand resting on the door as he prepared to face her once more. Under his breath, he vowed, "I swear, you will all regret it. How dare you accuse my wife of being what you are—demons."

I'm here now, my love.

Stepping into the familiar room, the emperor's heart raced with anxiety as he mulled over a perfect apology. He needed to express his deep remorse for not being there when she needed him the most, for failing to shield her from the treachery of those vultures. Reflecting on his actions, he realised he should have never left her behind. In his rush to leave for war, he had neglected to arrange proper protection for her. In hindsight, he understood that he should have never left her side in the first place.

Determined to make amends, he vowed to do better. He resolved to never again allow those ministers or officials the opportunity to torment her in his absence again. From now on, he would be her shield, her staunch protector, and her unending support.

But it might be too late for any of that.

His steps faltered, his breath caught in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he beheld the sight before his eyes. The sword in his hands slipped, clanging loudly as it hit the ground, and he sank to his knees in disbelief at the last thing he expected to see.

His shock deepened as he took in his wife's unrecognisable appearance. Crawling towards her limp form on the ground, he pulled her into his arms, his voice trembling with anguish. The horror settled within him like a heavy weight as he tried to imagine what atrocities these monsters had dared inflict upon her while he was gone. His mind raced with images of torture and torment, each one more gruesome than the last.

"Oh god, what have they done to you?" he whispered, his heart fracturing into a million shards as he struggled to comprehend her pale skin, her white hair, and the blood-like tears staining her cheeks. With shaking hands, he gently cupped her cold cheek, his fingers tracing the contours of her face as if seeking reassurance that she was still there, still his beloved wife.

"Please wake up, my love. This isn't funny, stop scaring me," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You promised to wait for me. You promised..." His words trailed off into a broken sob as he refused to accept anything but the truth, shaking his head in denial even as he searched desperately for a pulse, even when she remained unresponsive.

"No, no, no... this can't be real. It can't be," he murmured, his mind reeling with the unimaginable horror of what he had found.

Despair and regret enveloped him as he sobbed painfully, holding her lifeless body tightly against his chest. The realisation that she was truly gone, that her final moments were spent alone in the very room she despised just to be with him, weighed heavily on his heart. He grappled with the bitter truth that he had failed her, just as she had feared when she hesitated to be with him.

Gradually, his sorrow gave way to seething rage as he recalled the faces of the ministers and officials responsible for this atrocity. They had callously taken her life, foolishly believing he would be deceived by their feeble attempt to frame her. With trembling hands, he picked up a shard of the shattered bowl nearby and brought it to his nose, recognising the metallic scent of mercury.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

They had poisoned her with lethal doses of mercury, causing a myriad of symptoms—tremors, headaches, muscle weakness, kidney damage, and breathing difficulties. And the deliberate administration of such high doses to turn her hair white revealed their sinister intent from the outset.

Just how much had they fed her? It was evident they had intended to kill her from the start. Anguish and fury surged within him as he vowed to make them pay.

Gently caressing her cold cheek, he leaned in to kiss her unmoving lips, his own trembling against hers. He blamed himself for everything that had transpired. Perhaps if she hadn't been with him, she would have lived a better life—a normal life with a normal man. She wouldn't have to endure such a painful and cruel death.

It was all because of him.

Regret hung heavy in his heart, but dwelling on what could have been served no purpose.

"I'm so sorry, my wife," he whispered, his voice thick with grief. "Just hold on a bit longer, alright? I'll join you soon, but first, I'll make those bastards pay. Wait for me—I won't let you face this alone. Not again."

With resolve hardening in his heart, he retrieved his sword and sheathed it once more before lifting her lifeless form into his arms. Like a man burdened by death itself, he trudged towards the throne room where justice awaited. Kicking the doors open with a forceful thrust of his leg, he was met with a sea of horrified expressions from the ministers and officials. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated the emperor's dramatic entrance, cradling his beloved empress in his arms.

Ignoring their shocked gazes, he strode past them, his eyes fixed on the throne at the far end of the room. With careful tenderness, he laid his wife down upon the ornate seat, arranging her robes and ensuring her comfort as though she were merely sleeping. Pressing a solemn kiss upon her cold forehead, he turned to face the assembled council, their unease palpable in the air.

The guilty culprits remained frozen in their places, uncertain of what awaited them.

As the emperor's gaze swept over them, the ministers and officials for the first time felt a cold shiver of fear trickle down their spines. His expression was unreadable, his appearance wild and dishevelled compared to his usual polished demeanour. Specks of blood and dirt stained his robes and skin, his hair a tangled mess, half tied up in a disarray that mirrored the chaos within him.

Gone was the warm smile that often graced his features; instead, a slow, unsettling grin crept across his face.

"My dearest ministers and officials," he began, his voice low and laced with an eerie calmness. "Your message has been received loud and clear. I hope you're satisfied now that you've succeeded in eradicating the empress, as you so desperately desired. I've given it some thought, and perhaps... you were all right."

The Minister of Rites, attempting to feign nonchalance, cleared his throat. "A-about what, Your Imperial Majesty?" he stammered.

Baekhyun's eyes gleamed with a frightening intensity as he smirked, his demeanour bordering on madness. "About what this nation truly needs," he replied, his voice carrying a chilling edge.

"Not a good emperor, but a mad one."

Without giving the men before him time to register his words, all Baekhyun saw was red. In a split second, he unsheathed his sword and transformed into a bloodthirsty animal, cutting down anyone and everyone in his path. The Minister of Rites tried to flee but to no avail. He watched in complete horror as his colleagues dropped dead one by one, their blood splattering over the grand walls of the throne room, their screams echoing.

The emperor went on a rampage, leaving no man behind. The Minister of Rites, who had been behind the idea of poisoning the empress, smearing her name by labelling her a demon, and executing her, was now filled with regret. They had turned him into the mad king his empress had feared. Perhaps they had finally achieved their goal, but it wasn't what they were prepared for.

The minister collapsed to his knees before the emperor, realising that His Imperial Majesty had saved him for last. Trembling, he rubbed his hands together in a desperate plea. "P-please, everything I've done, it's for the betterment of our nation."

Baekhyun's humourless laughter echoed through the hall, sending shivers down the minister's spine. "You truly believe that, don't you? Of course, that includes subjecting my wife to all that torment. Yes, because that is exactly what the nation needs. Unfortunately for you, I am the emperor, and I determine what's best for the nation. And in this case, I think it's better off without traitors like you. See you on the other side," were the last words the minister heard before his head was severed from his neck, rolling off to join the others on the floor.

The emperor finally turned back, his eyes softening as they landed on his beloved's lifeless body. Making his way back towards her, he knelt down beside her, tears streaming down his face as he reached for her hand. Holding it to his cheek, he missed the warmth it once had.

"I'm coming now, my love," he whispered brokenly. "I'm sorry you had to wait for so long. I'll be there with you soon."

"Yes, I understand His Imperial Majesty's orders not to enter, but it's been hours. Surely, any assembly would have concluded by now, wouldn't it?" With apprehension and curiosity, a senior court lady pushed open the doors to the once-bustling throne room, expecting to find His Imperial Majesty and his council of ministers. Instead, she was met with a horrifying sight—a scene of bloodshed and chaos spread across the grand hall.

Her piercing scream echoed through the silent room, jolting nearby palace staff into action. Rushing to the scene, they were met with a scene that chilled them to the bone. At the end of the room, amidst a sea of lifeless bodies, lay the empress on the throne, her appearance shocking all who beheld it. Beside her, her husband remained, his head cradled on her chest, their hands tightly clasped together. A gaping stab wound marred his chest—it seemed he had taken his own life before joining her in death.

Following that, the next prince in line promptly ascended the throne and found himself compelled to appoint an entirely new cabinet of ministers and officials. The entire nation descended into chaos, particularly since it was still embroiled in a war, with endless theories circulating about the events. While some speculated that the emperor succumbed to madness and killed his own council, others whispered of a conspiracy, suggesting that the ministers had orchestrated the demise of both the empress and the emperor.

Amidst this uncertainty, the new prince faced the daunting challenge of restoring order to the kingdom. With a heavy heart, he pledged to uncover the truth behind the tragic occurrences and ensure that justice was served to those responsible.

In the end, the truth of what truly occurred remained shrouded in mystery. All those involved had departed from the realm of the living. As centuries passed, that chapter in history became known as the Scarlet Requiem, a haunting tale that lingered in the collective memory of the kingdom. Despite countless efforts to unravel the enigma, the events surrounding the tragedy remained obscured by the sands of time, leaving future generations to ponder and speculate about the dark secrets of the past.

"What do you think really happened?" a woman asked her boyfriend as they studied a painting depicting the throne room scene in a museum dedicated to the events of the Scarlet Requiem.

He pondered for a moment before responding with a shrug. "It's hard to say. But judging by the way he's holding onto her, it seems he must have truly loved her. Let's hope they've found peace and happiness, whether in the afterlife or their next life."

She nodded in agreement, leaning into his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I hope so too."

He flashed a mischievous grin. "I'm just saying, if I were him, I wouldn't have left her for war in the first place."

She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful smack, though a smile danced on her lips. "I'm sure you wouldn't. I bet it's because the empress was described as beautiful as a celestial being."

He scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me how pretty she was. I'll stay only if you're my empress."

Unbeknownst to them, the couple had been contemplating their own past lives. Perhaps the emperor and empress had indeed found each other again in another existence.

Believe it or not, this has been on my mind for months ever since seeing those AI-generated photos of Baekhyun. I had an epiphany while looking at them again yesterday and just had to write this. It's my first EXO fic, and I hope it's decent hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Master Tag list:

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @green-agent @vantediary @tinyteezer |

@hollxe1 @pandabur666 @lilactangerine @oddracha @evidive

He observes in silence, but no one pays him attention. It’s like he’s dead in their eyes, like he has already ceased to exist. He knows that it’s partially because they want to erase his existence from their minds and memories – like the existence of any other of his kind. The wounds they inflicted are a symbol of his vulnerability, or so they seem to believe. The symbol of victory of the mankind over the creatures of the night.

To humans, monsters and demons appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but Sehun knows that they share history for as long as humans had been on the Earth. Yet, believing that demons are strangers is a relief – because it’s easier to rely on that belief than to acknowledge that they has been here long before.

Sehun doesn’t care, though. He has shed enough human blood to know it all tastes the same. He’s not angry, even though they have humiliated and hurt him. It’d only be natural for them to fall victim into their own naivety. He’ll drink them up all.

A girl enters the room suddenly, a tray with drinks in her hand. She glances at the men, and eventually spots him as well. Her face visibly tenses, but she doesn’t dare to speak up. Yet, her gaze wanders to him every once in a while as she hands out the drinks in a submissive manner. One of the men comments on her skimpy skirt. She looks uncomfortable, but doesn’t react.

Something outside the room catches the men’s attention, and they all suddenly get up to go and check it out. The girl stays, using this moment to tidy up the area a little – just a bit, he doubts there’s much that can be done to make the cheap lounge look any better.

She checks whether there’s anyone outside and eventually moves over to his own side. Sehun observes her. He doesn’t move, as if frozen in space, but he feels there’s a small streak of blood running down his chin from having his lip split.

The girl’s face show pity when she eventually finds the strength to approach him.

“Hey… Just tell me and I’ll call the police, I can’t get you out, but…”

He snorts.

She cowers when he looks in her eyes. Something shifts within her, inexplainable fear crossing her features, as if, despite the rope on his wrists, his fingers just wrapped tightly around her heart. He knows, why. She’s clearly more human than the others – her instincts work the way they should, the fear that fills her is correct.

“Better run.”

“What?”

“Because I won’t stop at these fuckards. Get the fuck out of here.”

He doesn’t explain any more, there is no need to. But the girl stands still, watching him with her eyebrows furrowed. She doesn’t, however, look paralyzed from fear. More of pondering over what he just said. It’s as if she wants to say something, and opens her mouth, but then the yelling comes from the outside, distracting her. They’re not coming back just yet, but the noise served to take her attention away for just a moment.

“I don’t like them, either” she eventually admits. “Maybe the world will be better without them. There is a first aid kit under the bar counter if you need it. Make sure to run far, blood stains on the snow will not disappear easily.”

He knows that. He may not have been in this situation before, but he was in many similar enough to know how to survive after a macabre. There will be a hunt, there will be chasing, there will be news all over the media, and those of his kind will be even more feared, and even more stigmatized. But he will not back off.

“Get out of here” he repeats once more. His voice is much softer now; something shifted in him for these few moments, that small humanizing experience easing his thoughts and senses.

She listens and soon he’s alone again.

He hopes that she managed to leave the bar, but there is no thought of that left once he lets his monster free, and there’s only the smell of blood in his nostrils, heartbeats resonate through his bones.

His claws tear through flesh and screaming fills his ears. More wounds litter his body, but barely any can rip through what he has became now. His claws are aching until they dive into warm stomachs, tearing apart every bit of skin and muscle that they come across, crushing the bones and splattering the blood all around. The thick metallic smell fills the air.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt this hunger, but once it’s quenched, he feels so strong, so powerful.

This is right, this is the way things should be. The mankind is no match for a monster, and he is justice for the fools.

Only at the back of his head he wonders, if her blood really tastes the same, or if he came across her and could dive his fangs into her throat, would it be another kind of pleasure, another kind of bliss that would fill his hungry jaws.

Once the police arrives at the place, he is long gone, and it’ll take them a while to identify the bodies of his self-proclaimed oppressors.

Two months later

The smell of blood wakes him up one night.

It is nothing new. In fact, that scent is one of most familiar ones that he experiences in his life, so it shouldn’t surprise him this time, either. Be it his own, or some humans’, or other monsters’ – any bloodshed in the proximity of the few miles reaches his nostrils before anything else, and so in the world of violence and danger, he’s learned to ignore such stimuli.

But this one keeps him up because it’s vaguely familiar, although he cannot place his thoughts around it. It’s the curiosity that prevents him from laying back down.

He leaves into the night-ridden streets of the city.

The white street lights struggle to tear through the thick fog that fills the area, and he relies on his smell and hearing mostly, navigating through the district.

The closer he gets, the more he feels it – the scent of blood intensifies and his internal hunger is starting to deprive him off mind clarity. Something in him turns, his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears, with every pulse – his vision tunnels into the path straight to the source.

When he walks into a small valley, the people gathered there see only remains of his human self. The whites of his eyes already turned pitch black. His fingernails turned into harpoon-like claws, and the fog has taken the look of deep black smoke, extending from the entry to the alley and soon surrounding everyone present, growing so thick that it dulled out any and all sounds coming from the outside of the dreadful zone.

  Sehun is calm – calmer than he would usually be. The hunger is screaming inside him, but he’s doing a pretty damn good job at restraining it – for now.

“The fuck do you want?” comes the sloppy voice of one of the few men gathered in the alley. He must be either drunk or high, Sehun ponders, given he seems rather unaware of the change in surroundings.

The others start registering what is happening, and Sehun’s eyes, darker than the alley itself, serve to make their position clear.

But that is when he, also, finally sees what called out to him and brought him here in the first place.

Because between the men gathered in there, lays a smaller, feminine body, and it’s nothing but that exact body that reeks of fresh blood and makes his nostrils flare up. He’s so hungry.

“Fuck, don’t…!” The words reach Sehun half a second later than the glimpse of a broken bottle that the man swings, running towards him in a thoughtless outburst of bravery. Someone – smarter than the man, for sure – tries to stop him, but it’s too late, and Sehun dodges the hit with barely any effort, extending his hand forward, and the man impales himself on the claws. They tear through the flesh, going almost elbow-deep.

Sehun scoffs, relaxing the muscle, and the man’s convulsing body slips off and onto the ground.

The others waste no time, turning around and running into the dark fog surrounding the area, survival being the only thing on their minds the moment they realize what they got themselves into.

Sehun doesn’t feel like chasing them. He instead wants to investigate what they left behind.

He approaches the body curiously and soon realizes, she’s still alive. In fact, not only alive, but still conscious, although there is a deep cut in her leg that must have been the one that caused the blood shed, and so it doesn’t seem she is able to stand up.

But he notices something else, too – that her clothes are disheveled, and especially the black skirt is somewhat out of place.

Her breathing is shaky and she barely registers his presence, looking up and trying to see through the darkness to tell the details of his face. But it’s too dark again, and he knows it’s only him that sees her well and not vice versa.

He nudges her body with his foot, and she flinches.

He lets out a sigh. He is a monster, he knows, but there are a few drops of pity in the sea of cruelty that fills his black heart.

The sound of your own heartbeat wakes you up from the hazy state you were in.

Were you asleep? Unconscious? Or completely dissociated – you couldn’t tell, but something finally tears you out of this state and you push yourself up. There is pain in different areas of your body – some of which make you gag at the thought of, and you choose not to ponder about them, although your face twists in disgust.

But now what matters more is that you’re in a completely unfamiliar place.

It appears to be an old flat of sorts, with dirty, cracked walls and a dusty mattress that you’re laying on. A single bulb is the only light source that you have, but it suffices to showcase the nearest surroundings.

There is another mattress against the opposite wall and a man sits on top of it, all attention on what appears to be a takeout chicken that he’s eating. The smell of warm barbecue spices fills your nostrils, rather pleasant – but you silently judge the grease covering the man’s fingers that he’s using to dine in a primitive, greedy manner.

You clear your throat and he silently looks up at you, stopping with a half-eaten chicken leg up mid-air. At least the foam tray is preventing him from getting the grease all over his clothes, because the sauce is profusely dripping off his digits.

He reaches towards what seems to be the same foam box as he has, and pushes it towards you.

“Eat.”

“Who are you?”

“Strain your memory a little. I remembered you, so you better recognize me as well.”

You pout a little, but decide it will be in your best interest to listen what he said and at least try to take it upon yourself to think some before speaking up again.

Your stomach churns when you take a small bite of the chicken, and you feel yourself growing sick. You might throw up if you keep eating. It’s not that you’re not hungry. But more than hungry, you feel… gross.

You decide to take your time while peeking at the man, trying to put all pieces together and place his face somewhere in your memories.

Then you vaguely recall what happened before he brought you here – the darkness that surrounded you when he entered the alley, void more unsettling and terrifying than a mere night could bring. When the matter of what he is becomes crystal clear, it also brings you back to the only, really, situation, in which you could have met him, and you understand it now.

But the memory of the dark alley brings up other memories as well, and you almost drop the styrofoam tray, putting it away with difficulty, your muscles tensing, your whole body becoming heavy. Your breathing quickens again, heartbeat filling your ears.

You think you’re going to pass out, when…

“Look at me.”

You snap your eyes up and towards his own. They’re black, but not patch black – reflecting light like two polished pieces of hematite, and you stare at him, mesmerized.

Your breathing slowly calms down, so does your heartbeat. Pain disappears, as if erased. Your thoughts start to dissolve, everything is blurring around you, and right before you’re trapped in a complete apathy, the sensation disappears, but you’re left much calmer, much more at ease.

“What… did you do?”

“I’m a monster. There is many things I can do. Consider this a type of hypnosis.” It seems that he’s finally done with his chicken, because he puts the tray away, wiping his fingers with a tissue and tossing it into the tray as well. “So. What were you even doing out there at this hour?” It takes you by surprise that he wants to start a small talk, and he doesn’t look like the type to talk with people – especially humans – often to begin with.

The dull pain in your leg reminds you of the earlier events, and you glance down only to see it somewhat patched up. It appears to have bled through some layers of the bandage before the bleeding has stopped, but at least the injury itself is secured.

“After you demolished my workplace, I had to find a new one. All the clients moved to another bar, so they took me in easily. But the opening hours are… suboptimal. So I was going home when…”

“Were these bastards clients as well?”

You hold your breath for a few moments before nodding curtly.

“Maybe you should get into a better career” Sehun scoffs.

“Late night shifts get along with studying during the day” you sigh. “But… maybe I wasted my chance to find better folk. I thought the… the ones you got, were the worst, and that it would be over. But it wasn’t the case. This goddamn city is rotten from the inside out. Fucking scum hydra, you killed a few and a dozen came in their place.”

Sehun snorts at your snarky voice.

“We can kill these too, if you wanna.”

You stare at him blankly.

“You… are joking, right?”

“Was I joking last time?” He winks at you.

Given the context, the expression is grotesque.

You glance outside to where the sun is starting to lift from the horizon. You feel as though you haven’t seen it in ages, the shades of purple and orange seep through the rare clouds that sprawl across the firmament.

“They will be there tonight, I’m sure. They come there every day at the same time.”

Sehun watches you with a knowing smile on his face. That smile is dark and full of underlying bloodlust, but all you’re seeing right now is the bright glow right outside.

The last time you were here felt starkly different.

It is like visiting an old school years after graduation, except it is less than twenty four hours from the last time you were here.

But you are more than certain it is no longer your place to belong to. The small, rusty bar at the corner of the two empty streets will no longer be yours to spend nights at, and you feel nervous for the future, yet relieved at the same time. You genuinely hate your workplace, as much as you hated the former one.

Sehun stands right behind you and the two of you observe the entry from the safe distance of the opposite end of the sidewalk. You feel his calm, warm breath on top of your head. Your own is shaky.

“I’m going to get fired for this” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sehun’s breath hitches in a silent laughter, but he doesn’t say anything. “Can’t you, you know, get this done yourself?” You’ve seen him in his element before, you know that it might scare you for life to see it in close detail like this.

“You can still back out of this” he states. His tone is considerate, making it clear that, truly, he has no intention in forcing you into something you don’t want. The aura between the two of you appears light and friendly, not matching at all the scheme that you’ve made up.

“Nothing will change if I don’t do it” you ponder aloud.

“Not much will change if you do” Sehun corrects. “You won’t change the world by killing off half of it. It will be just the same, only more secluded.” There are years over years of life experiences that accumulate into this simple statement, you realize. How many times has he been in this situation? How many times has he taken it upon himself to bring some wicked idea of justice?

No, that is not justice. It is nothing more glorious, nothing more magnificent than a simple revenge.

“I will change” you finally state. “Just me and them. It’s about enough for me.”

Sehun nods slowly. The decision is made.

The two of you enter the bar with your heads lowered. He’s silently wondering what’s on your mind; are you thinking of a plan, or just hoping for him to take the initiative? It doesn’t matter much. There needs to be no plan, he can just destroy everything in sight. But it’s a wonder, he’s entertained seeing the cogs turn in your head, so he doesn’t want to rush anything. There is all the time in the world to watch the downfall you prepared for yourself.

You bite on your lip and look at him, seeking reassurance.

He grins, nodding towards the bar.

Your gaze drifts over the silhouettes that are present in. It has been barely a minute, but some men already sent not-too-subtle glances your way. The bar owner behind the bar is busy cleaning. Yesterday, you asked him to let you go home earlier because the bar was almost empty on that day and you were scared of being out at night. He declined.

There is no one in this place that you would pity.

With determined face, you walk up to the nearest table. You already hear whistling. You’re not going to regret any of this.

You grab the beer bottle off the table and with all the force you can muster, crush it on the man’s head. Glass shatters and scatters all over the place. The noise it makes drowns out everything else, and for a few painful seconds, the air is still, and nobody is saying a word, and you suddenly realize what you have done, and-

Black smoke starts to fill the space. Everything darkens.

In any other circumstances, you would be so, so scared of it.

Right now it brings comfort. You’re no longer alone.

The man with his head bleeding falls to the floor first, pierced through spikes of black matter that come out of his gut, making him look like a bloody hedgehog.

Screams fill your ears, chaos arises. People start to run, yell at each other, trying to rip through the black matter that starts to surround them from all directions. But the smoke is tangible, it chases down every living soul in the bar like it’s a sentient creature, it draws blood and fills its mouth with flesh like a beast.

You stand in the middle of mayhem, frozen in your spot. The smoke doesn’t hurt you, doesn’t notice you. The only pain you feel comes from the wound on your leg, and from your hand, because you’re clutching on remains of the shattered bottle so hard that it cuts through.

Your head is empty.

Through the noise, you hear Sehun chuckle behind you and place a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn around and look at him.

He devours the sight of terror on your face.

Prying the glass from your hand, he brings your wrist to his face. His lips brush your skin, staining it with blood. It’s like a wake up call. You pull your hand out of your grasp and turn around frantically, slowly coming to realization of what is going on, of what you’ve done…

But it’s not like there’s any backing out from this. Bodies start to pile on the floor and you trip over someone’s head as you step forward, taking in the sight. So many still running around, still fighting, still trying to get out, hide or survive.

Sehun grabs your wrist and pulls you further into the bar. It’s spacious, along with all the lounges, but he finally brings you behind the counter. Your manager cowers on the ground underneath, covering his head. He must think he’s going unnoticed.

“You can do it, strong girl.” He takes a knife off the bar counter and puts it in your hand, guiding you forward. The man doesn’t notice you, he’s covering his head and shaking, trembling so much.

You think that Sehun must read your thoughts to know the kind of bitterness you’re feeling at the sight.

“He didn’t care you would end up in that alley” he utters into your ear, lips brushing your hair, almost intimately.

“I-I can’t…” you mumble. You feel sick in the stomach.

“Take your time, have a drink if you need” he points at the glasses of cocktail on the counter, still untouched by a miracle. You’re tempted to do it. You’re tempted to drink all alcohol in here, to forget all that you’ve seen, all that you’ve caused. Maybe if someone finds you later unconscious, drunk out of your mind, they won’t even think it was your doing. Maybe you can pretend to be yet another victim, only lucky enough to have passed out before the hells opened for the people gathered in here.

But at heart, you know that you won’t. That there is no way in hell – or on the earth for that matter – that you can go back to regular life after this.

You’re corrupted beyond salvation.

With the last ounce of bravery, you turn around on your heel. The blade is heavy in your hand, but you aim it perfectly.

Into the Monster’s chest.

Your heart stops beating for a second. Everything goes quiet, so quiet that you cannot even hear your blood buzzling. You’re frozen to the ground, realization dawning on you. You did what you felt would be right. You did what could potentially save someone. You did what the world would thank you for.

But Sehun stares at you with a quizzical smile, as if there was no knife sticking out of his chest, as if it was all nothing more than a joke.

“Really?” he muses.

You step back. The sounds of surroundings come back to you now, and you’re overwhelmed with their intensity. Your body trembles.

“You were going to kill me anyway, weren’t you?” The simple realization hits you as you speak out your thoughts. What else could he have wanted from you? He helped you, went out of his way, despite you being of no use, completely hopeless in the world.

Sehun is still, after all, a monster, and his empathy is not a trait worth trusting.

“Maybe” he replies. “Do you want me to?” He steps towards you without hurry. He walks through the inferno like it’s his personal catwalk. “Don’t you want to forget what you’ve done?” He extends his hand to you in an invitation.

And despite everything, you’re tempted to take it.

You let out a small sob. You’re tired. So tired of this, so tired of everything else. So tired of this world.

“Will it hurt?” you utter in a small voice.

You don’t take his hand, but when he finally catches up to you, his arms wrap around you in a manner that could pass as protective, if you by now didn’t know any better.

Sehun lets out a small hum.

“I’ll make sure it does.”

This time, it’s your turn to succumb to the justice.

And just then, just as you think you’re ready, your stomach decides it really is too much. You drop the tweezers, metal clanking on the tiles against the backdrop of your heaving and liquids splashing as you hug the toilet seat. Baekhyun pats your back, unsure of what to do.

“Sorry,” you apologize as you flush. Your legs shake terribly when you stand up to rinse your mouth. It seems that no matter how many times you do this, your body, you as a whole, won’t get used to it. 

“‘S okay,” Baekhyun whispers, picking up the tweezers and handing them to you. 

You roughly clean them and prepare another cotton ball, let it absorb the antiseptic, and get back into the position.

Met with the sigh of the man-who’s-not-really-a-man’s throat, you feel the same wave of nausea as before, and as before you hold it off for the time being.

The collar is dark metal, heavy and cold to touch, though it hasn’t always been that way. No, not too long ago it was glowing with heat that welded it to the skin and flesh of its wearer’s throat.

Baekhyun, a creature of Hell by his origin, a guard dog of the domain of flames and molten earth, is more durable than a human being. Still, his body has its limits just like anyone else’s.

Your bathroom is filled with the smell of burnt meat. The exposed and scarring flesh stares at you like a vision straight out of a nightmare, a peak of what Hell might be. You don’t want to look at it. You don’t want to see Baekhyun’s pain. But there’s no one that can help him. There’s nowhere else for him to go. You’ve become intimately familiar with the muscles and sinews, arteries and veins, just about every part of his body that makes up Baekhyun. Yet there’s very little that you know about him. 

He whimpers when you finally resume your task. The wound has to be cleaned and taken care of. Or it will fester. And while it wouldn’t be fatal to him no matter how bad the rot would get, it would be painful. Shameful too, or so he said, once he’d return home.

Home… You mull the word over. You’ve always believed that home shouldn’t be a place you had to run away from. Yet here Baekhyun is, again and not for the last time. At least you hope so.

He holds still as if paralyzed with the pain. It’s for the best. Your fingers burn with his tears. You always tell yourself you’ll wear gloves next time but you never do and let the tears scald you, as if you were making yourself pay for the pain you cause him. It’s not really your fault, you know. Not the injury, not him running here whenever he’s able to leave. You cause nothing of it, yet it feels like you’re guilty.

The wound is cleaned. Your stomach is still trying to empty itself despite already throwing up all its contents. 

You wrap the gauze around his neck with all the caution you can muster. The collar is almost too heavy for you to move, sticky with residue of his molten off tissues. Baekhyun insists on cleaning the collar himself, and so you leave him to it once your task is done. He always says it’s too dirty of a job for you to do. You don’t see how it can be worse than working with the raw flesh spasming in agony, but you never protest.

He finds you in bed. He slips in quietly, moulding himself against your back. His breath fans across your nape before he nuzzles into your hair. His heart beats like hummingbird wings. He radiates so much heat that you only cover yourself with the thinnest blanket you own for the comfort of it. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Barely there sound. A howl of a lone wolf, crying to the moon as it bleeds out in the snow.