#ficscafe dpe

He doesn’t get you—he spends most of the time he's with you arguing about how insensitive you are as a person, how nonchalant you can be when you should be reacting with some type of emotion, and how he wished you’d been more affectionate with him.

But he doesn’t understand you. He thinks you’re selfish (sure, he didn’t outright state this, but you can sense him feeling this way.)

Albeit you’re unsure how you got yourself in this position—back flat against the wall, his hands on your wrists with his crotch pinning yours as your legs wrap around him securely to meet his gaze from the height difference.

“I need you to talk to me,” he rasps, anger filled in his voice. “I’m so tired of making this into some guessing game. Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?”

Although he’s got you cornered, rutting his hips into you once again, it's not persuasive enough. “Talk to me.”

“If you can’t figure me out, maybe we should just break up. I didn’t want to date in the first place.”

Jaw clenched, his eyes continue to melt into yours. He’s looking for anything—a sign, a glimpse, a crack in your exterior to see whatever it is you’re truly feeling inside. “Why do you always use that as a solution? Instead of just communicating?”

“Because—“ you halt, breath hitching when he shifts, the head of his cock rubbing against your bud through your thin material shorts. “—Because it’s an easier solution. What do you expect from me?”

“To tell me and show me if you like me or not. You’re like a fucking boulder. I can’t move you.”

You quirk a brow. “Your fucking holding me down right now. You’ve evidently proved you can move me elsewhere.”

“Emotionally,” he says, exasperated. “The most I can get you to feel something is when we’re fucking. I’m surprised we’re even fucking in the first place. You barely let me hold your hand!”

Rolling your eyes, you pull your arms from his hold and he lets go easily. It’s the type of person Mingyu is—he’s gentle, the complete opposite of you, with a heart of gold that everyone loves and appreciates. He’s lovable, known to many, and desired by them all, and somehow, you got him in your grasp and truthfully… you’re not sure what to do.

He’s fragile, but you have rough hands with toughened skin from years of experience and encounters. There’s this fear that you’ll drop him, shatter him into pieces as brittle as chinaware. So you hold the front, keep yourself strong with a facade tougher than concrete, because you’re afraid if you hold on too tight, he might break. And at the same time, he might break you too.

“You wanna know why?” You finally blurt, words firm and sharp. “Because you make me weak. And I don’t like being weak. I don’t like being known as weak. And you—you do that to me. I hate it.”

He furrows his brows. “I make you weak? The one girl I know to be the most resilient?” Mingyu has to scoff in disbelief because it’s the first time he’s hearing this. “You realize how insane you sound? It’s okay to have feelings for me. It’s why we’re together.”

Nose twitching, you suck in your cheeks. “I hate it. I hate this. I hate that when you turn to look at me in the morning, you give me that fucking… smile. Like I’m your whole world. Like you’re head over heels for me and I’m all that you see.”

“And why do you hate that?”

“Because, some part of me, deep down into the abyss, wants to look at you like that too.”

His jaw loosens, just like the restraints he had over his heart in the past hour of arguing, hands now finding purchase on your thighs to pull you back up closer. “Baby…” he calls out for you softly, the term of endearment nearly bursting your heart, but you keep yourself calm and collected as you normally do. “Then do it. Why are you so scared?”

“I told you.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Well, it’s good enough for me.”

He heaves a heavy breath. “Baby, I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m chasing you but I’m getting nothing out of it.”

Then, you reiterate the same words you’ve said multiple times, but there’s never any genuinity in it because you never actually… meant it. “Then let’s break up.”

“We’re not breaking up.”

“Then what do you want to do? Tell me. If breaking up isn’t the option, then tell me instead of having me up the wall if we’re not gonna fuck.”

“Fucking only happens when you’re pissed or when you’re making up.”

“So, what now?”

It’s Mingyu’s turn to roll his eyes. “We make up. I need you to talk to me. I can barely read you—the only thing I know for sure is that you don’t want this to end because you just admitted to me that you wanna look at me the same way I look at you.”

Frustrated, you let your head drop onto the wall behind you. “This is annoying. I don’t like expressing stuff. You just take what you get or leave. If you can’t figure out what’s going through my mind, what’s the point? Why put in the effort?” Eyes fluttering shut, you feel yourself wanting to crawl into a ball and just… hide. Despite being fully clothed, you feel naked when Mingyu asks for more. And what he’s asking for isn’t even unreasonable—you’re just horrible at telling people what you’re feeling. “I just… why can’t I just let you lay your head on my lap when you get home from work? Or… cook dinner with you. Even have it ready when you have long nights at work. Maybe even fold your laundry—I don’t know. I don’t like PDA but if you asked me, I’d hold your hand under the table. Or… hold it in your pocket on cold days.”

Then, Mingyu stays silent (for the first time).

It finally hits.

You’re not outspoken when it comes to soft things. You’re loving but not in the same way he is. You’re also honest and straightforward about everything except when it comes to admitting feelings for him.

And for once, when you say those words, he… he feels loved by you.

He remembers those days—after spending hours at the gym despite having a long work day, he’d come home and you’re there waiting for him on the couch so you could shower together. You’d help scrub his limp body, even though he moans and groans about how sore he is, but you do it nonetheless because you like him. Or when you stopped by at his apartment, one he shares with all his friends, because he was stuck with helping one of them build their beds and you brought them all, including himself, lunch. And that wasn’t to mention you were already working twelve hour days.

“Can you answer one question for me, then? I won’t force you to tell me again. I just need to hear it once.”

Your eyes open, and it feels like a mistake because your heart drops into your stomach. His gaze is hypnotizing, like he’s got you in a trance, and you respond with a ‘yes’ without much thought because of him.

Mingyu swallows all his anxiety before asking that million dollar question.

“Do you love me?”

Although you feel small being put on the spot like that, the one thing you’ll admit is that you’ve already predetermined the answer to this. And just as much courage as Mingyu puts into asking, you’ll reciprocate and do the same in answering because he’s admirable for even trying.

“Yes.”

Without much thought, he presses his lips against yours. You love him, although you rarely if not never say it, but you finally said those words and all he needs is to hear it just once for assurance. To know that there’s something he’s chasing for, that he’s not running in place like on a treadmill.

Arms snaking around his neck, you keep your hold there as his hands reach to your jaw, leveraging the kiss in an angle he’d prefer. When you kiss, he feels complete. He’s never felt like this with another girl before, this feeling of home, the feeling of comfort. You’re colder than brisk winters, but something about having you in his arms makes him warm.

Your fingers comb through his locks, and although it’s doused in gel and spent hours on doing this morning, he doesn’t mind because he knows he’s yours. When you kiss him back, he’s as anxious as he was when he had to go on stage and perform in front of people for the first time.

Gently pulling away, both your lips are pink and swollen with a string of saliva connecting between. Pants brushing against each other’s face, a soft smile tugs on the edges of your lips as you feel heat creeping up your neck.

“I love you too,” he says, as low as a whisper. “And… I’m okay if you don’t say it again. You know how I show you that I love you… and I should’ve been better at learning what you’re comfortable with in showing how you love. But I still need you to help, too, to make this… better. I need you to talk to me, when you need me. When I need you. I need you to be here for me too.”

“Okay,” you respond, volume matching his. “If that’s the case, I love you. Just… as another reminder since I only said yes the first time.”

He lets out a chuckle, vibrating from his chest and everything about him makes your heart race. “Good. Can I show you how much I love you?”

“No,” you retort quickly and bashfully. But he knows you’re playing because you nod afterwards, allowing him to carry you to the couch. “Maybe.”

“I need a yes, love,” Mingyu says cheekily, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You know I’m not going to go any further until I hear it.”

“Yes,” you reply embitterly, but Mingyu knows better now. He knows what you want, because all he needed was assurance. “Please show me how much you love me.”

And fuck, because he never knew how much he needed to hear those words all his life.

You’re so pretty when he has you stripped down to nothing, laid out on the leather couch of your living room; hair messy, mouth gaped open from all his teasing, and with an arm covering your face because it’s all too much for you. Mingyu is a passionate lover, you’ve come to recognize, and although it’s all an unfamiliar territory, you love him and you’re willing to step into the unknown.

“How am I doing?” He asks, as if he doesn’t have his head in between your legs and a grip on the meat of your thighs. He loves the taste of you, he reminds you plenty of times, but dirty talk coming from such an innocent face makes you slightly embarrassed. “Feels good?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, avoiding his infatuated stare. “Just… just fucking do it, you asshole.”

“What? Show you how much I love you?”

There’s a tornado in the pit of your stomach. He keeps saying things that make you awkward because you’ve never been loved like how Mingyu loves.

You don’t react, and this displeases him. Laying his tongue flat out against your cunt, he gives you another lick that lets a whimper escape from your lips. “Tell me, baby. Am I doing a good job?”

“Yes,” you croak, only because you feel like he’s got you in this position for so long. You’re so exposed, and he at least has his boxers to protect him like a shield, but you’re all out in the open. (Not to mention his fucking built body. He makes you feel so insecure about yours—how is this puppy looking boy so… wide? What the fuck?) “Can you… can you take that off?”

He leans up, tilting his head in confusion and now you can see how hard he is in his undergarments. “My… my boxers?”

“Yeah. I feel like… I’m the only one exposed here.”

He laughs. “Baby, we’ll get to that.”

“Now.”

Mingyu snorts. “Anything my baby wants.” He bumps foreheads with you gingerly, something he's always done playfully, and tugs off his boxers swiftly as requested. “Let me make you cum first and—“

“No,” you interject, eyes closed and biting down on your bottom lip. It's the only way to remain bold—to not look him in the eye because he’ll melt you like a stick of butter left on the kitchen counter. “Show me how you love me.”

Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to shuffle quickly through the little stash hidden on the first shelf underneath your coffee table (he likes to be prepared in every situation even though this is your apartment) and finally spots the condom he hid a week ago. Tearing it open rapidly, he gives himself a couple pumps that have beads of precum building at the top and slips the rubber on with ease. “Ready?”

“For you?” Mingyu gulps, because before today, you’ve rarely said anything that made his heart stutter. “Anything.”

With a push of the head of his cock into your heat, a quiet wince escapes from your lips and his chocolate orbs are saturated in apologies. He doesn’t want you to feel pain, especially not you, but even his efforts to loosen you up beforehand, you still manage to be so tight around him every time. It feels good to have you around him snugly, yet he knows the consequence of the beginning is the ache in between your legs from the first intrusion.

“I’m sorry, bub,” Mingyu presses a tender kiss on your forehead. “Bear with me, yeah?”

“Mm,” you hum dismissively, warming up when he finally slides himself all the way in. He stills, in fear that you’re hurt, but instead, you’re surprisely impatient as you cross your legs behind him and pull him close. Bringing your lips close to his ears, you breathe, “fuck me, baby.”

Mingyu laughs brightly, and your jaw clenches. “What?”

“After today, I’m not going to fuck you.” You quirk a brow. “I’m gonna make love to you.”

“Don’t make me throw up. You’re ruining the moment.”

He grins mischievously before pulling out and shoving himself back in swiftly that earns a groan from you. “Oh? Am I?”

“Stop playing, Mingyu,” you state sternly, but Mingyu is enjoying himself too much. “Or else you're not getting any for the month.”

Well, that does the trick.

He has his hands on your hips, pushed down against the seat cushions of your loveseat couch, hips once flushed against yours now thrusting into your throbbing pussy. God, you’re fucking done for, honestly, because he’s a pro with his hips when he angles it just right that he’s brushing against your swollen clit, hitting so deep into you.

“Fuck—“

“You curse too much, baby,” Mingyu puffs, pecking the side of your lips sloppily. “Everyone thinks I’m such a nice guy and when they meet my—fuck—g-girlfriend and find out how much of a dirty mouth she has, they’re always struck.”

“Too fucking bad,” you spit, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. He’s so big, stretching you with each shove, but you’d never tell him that or his ego would inflate. “Stop talking and fuck me harder.”

Mingyu loves. He loves and loves, and although you won’t pretend that he comes to your home often with crumpled pieces of papers with girls’ names and numbers on them that fall into the catch-all bowl by the door with his keys, you don’t forget that besotted daze he falls into the moment he sees you. So when you ask for something, he delivers without fail.

Abiding by your urge, his hips move briskly, pistoning into you as fast as he can. Biceps tense, you can’t help but let your hands slip there, gripping onto the muscle and has you wondering fuck, how did you get so lucky? He’s hot, cute, sweet, loving and geez, he could fuck. He’s so clumsy, so dumb sometimes, but he’s so freaking lovable it makes you sick. Lovesick.

His pretty eyes shut close, you notice, because those two cups of hot chocolate are gone and he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he groans, ends of his hair that brush over his eyes now drenched in sweat. His skin glistens underneath the dim lights, and he reminds you of the stars in the night sky—so gorgeous, so special. Always a sight to see.

“Fuck,” the not-so-innocent boy curses (even though he just said you curse too much) “Baby, you just got so tight. Are you about to cum?”

“Possibly,” you manage to say, still attempting to play games even though Mingyu could very so threaten to steal your orgasm away from the tip of your fingers. But when he slightly shifts in the midst of his pounding, you let out a raspy, “Almost,” because he’s rubbing against your nub incessantly that you’re losing all your focus.

When you finally see those stars, you let go.

Mingyu feels this, grunting when you convulse around his dick, head dropping to watch you tug and tug around him, begging for him to cum. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long because after a couple thrusts, he stills, spilling ropes of cum into the condom and dropping the entirety of his weight onto you, face snug into the crook of your neck once again.

“I—“

“You’re heavy.”

“Fuck, baby, we just had sex and that’s the first thing you say?”

He can’t see you, but there’s a smile on your face. “Yeah. And you got my couch all sticky from your sweat. Not to mention the cum. Are you gonna clean it after?”

Mingyu doesn’t care. He’s blissful. He’s happy. He knows you’re going to toss a damp rag at him later, despite his dick out and still drenched in your arousal, and tell him to ‘wipe down the fucking couch because that’s gross.’

You had a killer resume, flawless time management skills and were exceptional at handling tough clients. Your professionalism with him however, was—unique, as a CEO who was trying to maintain a clean image would put it.

If you had any fear about losing your job, you definitely didn’t show it because you continued to complete all the tasks Seungcheol assigned to you with efficiency, but with an air around you that was borderline unsettling.

You would hand him a perfect coffee order but wrinkle your nose at him when he took a sip. When you were given the freedom to book his appointments at any time of the day last week, you scheduled them all to be before 10 am (Seungcheol still fists his sheets in the morning when he thinks about this). And earlier today, you had let the newbie intern enter his office when you knew they were always too excited in the mornings for Seungcheol to handle.

The only reason why he hadn’t done anything about your eccentric behaviour was the fact that he had a conference to attend this weekend, and he really, really needed your deflecting skills to avoid the nosy representatives, who were always trying to find a reason to demean his accomplishments.

“You have a meeting with the director of finance at 8 am tomorrow morning Mr. Choi.”

“Another 8 am? Are you trying to kill me yn?” Seungcheol pinched the bridge of his nose and held back the nth exasperated comment of the day. He was not going to lose it when he was only on his first cup of coffee for the morning. You, as per usual, remained indifferent, and kept flipping through the tablet planner.

“You’ll thank me later when you don’t have to settle that client’s budget complaints later in the afternoon, because the marketing head tells me they tend to be a bit more reasonable in the mornings.”

It’s not like you weren't respectful, you were professional in giving all the appropriate greetings and even occasionally treated your company underclassmen to meals after work. It was just that you were so odd with him, like you were always trying to keep a certain distance.

“Did you already book the tickets to fly over to the conference this weekend?” You briefly glance up from the schedule to nod and bow your head. Without another word, you turn on your heel to leave the office. Seungcheol sighs as he falls back onto his seat, all he wanted to do was to spend more time talking with you. You had been in the company for a little over a year and he felt like he didn’t know a thing about your life.

Seungcheol shakes his head and goes back to wrapping up some reports ahead of the busy weekend.

Now you knew it was bound to happen. As you were doing the last round of checks for Seungcheol’s team’s luggage on the plane, you mentally give yourself a pep talk for the weekend’s conference—your mind was used to spending the majority of your day by Seungcheol’s side, but the thought of being in such close company for the entire weekend was making your heart run laps.

You made sure to book first-class tickets of course, but you also made sure that you were seated as far away from Seungcheol as possible. It didn’t matter that you were his personal assistant, the spacious cabin gave you lots of leeway for roaming around the plane and answering his requests. You just could not handle spending the twelve hour plane ride sitting so closely to him.

You were pretty sure that people were under the impression that you lowkey hated who you worked for, but anyone with two eyes would know that it was the opposite, really.

Lucky for you, Seungcheol’s team had the observational skills of a toothpick.

When you were being interviewed by the hiring manager, you of course knew the company that you were applying to, and the person who would be in charge of all your daily tasks. At the time, Going Company was still small, and you knew that there was going to be a lot of hustling while it was in its beginning stages. You were ready for the over-time stress, the several cups of caffeine and the frequent nagging of either your boss, or his colleagues, that were under the impression that you worked for them too.

You however, were not ready for the boss that told you to go home early when he caught you blinking back eyes that lacked sleep, or the boss that invited you to drink with all his colleagues after work, and said colleagues treating you with an utmost respect that you had never seen from any previous position of employment.

It was a bit sad that you found yourself absolutely smitten at any acts of kindness shown to you in your workplace, but the accompaniment of your boss’s tiny mannerisms really hit a spot in your heart that you never even knew existed before.

Maybe it had to do something with the way Seungcheol was exceptionally grumpy in the mornings, but after you gave him his coffee, his eyes would fall shut and a soft smile would grace his features after the first sip. Or it could be the way he was not afraid to whine in front of you about the silly clients he had met for the day, or the way he would write little notes on the edge of your meeting minutes when you two were stuck in a boring product presentation, or the way he would patiently listen to all the young interns who barged into his office with jittery excitement, or the way—

In short, you loved the company that you worked for (and the person who ran it).

Despite the endearment you had towards your boss, professionalism came first above everything. You decided that you would keep your distance from Seungcheol. You would still perform all of your duties with efficient ease, but any possibility of growing closer was out of the question. Conversations would be kept straight-to-the-point and company dinners would end early for you. You were not risking Seungcheol finding out that you held any sort of feelings for him.

However, the world seemed to have other plans for you, because Seungcheol was now heading in your direction, and when he stationed himself in the adjacent cabin across from you, you were pretty sure that he had no intention in returning to his booked seat.

“Mr. Choi, was there something wrong with your seat?” Seungcheol hasn’t met your eyes yet, instead he smiles while facing forward as if knowing that you were going to ask that question, and he responds with, “Mingyu finds the back more spacious, so we agreed to trade seats.”

How strange, you were pretty sure that each cabin in the first-class area had the same amount of legroom. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol had actually not-so-subtly pleaded with Mingyu using the bribery of extra vacation days to switch cabins in order to be closer to you. Reason being, well— he has yet to figure that out.

The first two hours of the flight was spent in blissful silence. You figured it wasn’t so bad to be seated closely next to Seungcheol if you could just pull the divider to separate your areas and turn the lights off so he would think that you were sleeping.

Unfortunately, everyone on the plane had to eat dinner, so you were forced to come out of hiding. Fortunately, you were blessed to find a delicious bowl of bibimbap being handed to you by the flight stewardess. After you thanked her for the meal, you take the chopsticks into your hand and are just about to dig into the meal, before you hear a knock on the dividing partition.

You slide the door open to be met with Seungcheol, who was also holding his bowl of bibimbap and you give a slight bow to acknowledge the request he was about to make. “Would you like to have some extra bibimbap of mine?”

You try to mask the confusion that washes over your face at Seungcheol’s unusual request. If he asked you to place an order for more food, you would not have batted an eye, but to no surprise his unwavering kindness nestled its way into your heart despite your internal protests. “Are you not hungry Mr. Choi?”

“I’m supposed to be dieting right now, there’s going to be another magazine shoot when we get back from this trip.”

“I’m sure the photographer would gladly take your pictures regardless.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you will always look good on camera no matter how much your outside appearance changes—”

Your sentence comes to an abrupt halt as your eyes widen slightly at the realization of your words and you plead to the empty air that the conversation you were having was just a figment of your imagination. The curious, yet endearing grin that was immediately sent your way made it very apparent that the words spoken were not a delusion.

“You sure know how to flatter someone, miss ln, and I thank you for your kind words. But I also noticed that you buy this for lunch almost every Friday, so I thought you would like some more of it.”

Had Seungcheol really noticed the foods you enjoyed during the lunch breaks of your work week? Your mind cannot find any further responses to Seungcheol’s last comment, so you just give a small smile and nod in thanks when he scoots closer to your side to pile some extra bibimbap into your bowl.

Seungcheol does not say much to you for the rest of the flight. He figured that you wanted to get as much rest as possible before the start of the hectic weekend. You on the other hand try to ignore the disappointed pang in your stomach when he doesn’t knock on the partition for the rest of the journey.

Conferences were the worst. The whole making connections aspect was so tiresome and kind of shallow if Seungcheol was being honest. But alas, he is CEO after all, and he does try his best to spend more time around the people who seemed the most genuine.

As planned, you were by his side for most of the evening. You were organizing all the business cards that were collected from the other attendees, as well as redirecting the conversation once it got too uncomfortable for Seungcheol’s liking. Majority of the attendees were already middle-aged, and it irked Seungcheol when some of them refused to treat him as an equal. In his mind, business was business, and it didn’t matter that he had spent less years working in the corporate sector than others.

Seungcheol was pleased to have a reunion with Minghao, a distributor in the China district. He was around the same age, and Seungcheol would even consider him as a close friend, as far as partnerships go. You, being the absolute legend you are, not only arranged an event itinerary for Seungcheol that had ample time to meet new people and get work done, but with lots of leeway for him to socialize with mutuals and enjoy the time away from Korea.

Seungcheol also did not fail to notice how you really shone in your professional attire, and how the way you weaved in and out of the crowds of hotshot business owners and investors made it seem like you owned the place. At first, you were a little hesitant to come on the business trip as personal assistants did not have much of a role in these kinds of events, but through Seungcheol’s polite persuasion, you had agreed to lead the team in navigating through the weekend.

"Miss ln, I'll have you know that your input has actually helped the company grow lots in the past year, and it would be a pleasure to have you take the lead in some of the conversations we will be having with the shareholders we are going to be meeting. This is, only if you'd like to, of course."

It all came down to you in the end, and you figured that it would be a good experience for personal growth as well. You didn't think many CEOs involved their personal assistants in business decision making so much, but you were happy to try something other than mastermind scheduling (even if that was a great feat in it of itself).

You were first afraid that the other attendees would see you more as an unnecessary dead weight. However, if anyone felt that way, they would have immediately been proven wrong when they saw how you and Seungcheol worked seamlessly at each other’s side.

Seungcheol had insisted that you were a valuable asset to the team, and while you believed that your appeal came from the sole fact that you were practically a microsoft office god who was amazing at schedules, Seungcheol knew that you were more level headed when it came to business decisions than you let on. While his original intentions were to have your support when speaking to haughty investors, he soon came to realize he valued your insight more than anything.

“Mr Choi, shall we head over to the next panel now?” Seungcheol figured that the tiresome weekend had just begun to take its toll on you. Your eyes were slightly hooded, and a soft, almost dreamy smile had somehow broken through your cool business persona. He liked it when you smiled, you were always pretty beforehand, but he would say that your smile made you look younger, and a little more at peace.

“Right, I can take over for now miss ln, you can head back to the hotel room and rest for the remainder of the day. We still have that dinner tonight, and I don’t want you to be tired.”

“What about you though?”

“I’ll be fine, just make sure to get some rest, okay? Is it alright if I walk you back to your room?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be just fine, you need to be at the next panel soon anyway.”

You bow your head once more before heading off in the direction of the exit. Seungcheol knew that he would see you in a few more hours anyway. It was your first trip out of the country, and he didn’t want you to be drained by the end of it. While you had somehow managed to keep your distance from him all weekend, Seungcheol still managed to learn a few more things about you in the pockets of downtime.

He learned that you were all alone in Seoul, and that you chose to work elsewhere because of the lack of opportunities in your hometown. You didn’t talk much about it, but Seungcheol could tell that your previous places of employment weren’t so good to you, from the way you shifted your eyes at his questions. You weren’t too acquainted with each other, so Seungcheol didn’t pry.

He also learned that you were more of a tea person, hence why you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose a little when Seungcheol sipped onto his bitter caffeine in the mornings. (Seungcheol of course didn’t know about your fondness towards him when he drank from a perfect order in one of those tiresome mornings). You always booked his appointments early in the morning because he was less likely to make impulsive decisions earlier in his day, and you noticed that the longer Seungcheol spent thinking about a decision, the better the outcome was for the company.

You liked to invite the new interns into his office frequently, because one time when you accidentally gave the green light to a freshly graduated intern, Chan, to enter Seungcheol's office, he left with the biggest smile on his face and rambled to you about how amazing the boss is (you already knew that, of course). You had been letting in new interns whenever Seungcheol wasn’t busy since he was the perfect example of a good mentor, and you wanted everyone in the company to learn of his down to earth, almost fatherly-like nature.

Additionally, you liked to collect different kinds of plants, and Seungcheol made a mental note to gift you a set of succulents at the next office Christmas party. You had a knack for witty jokes, and Seungcheol found himself laughing at the side commentaries you would make after another attendee made an arrogant comment about something neither of you particularly cared about.

You were, for a lack of a better word, intelligent, interesting, and funny. Seungcheol admired how dedicated you were to your career, but he wished you would just stay this way without losing any aspect of yourself.

The rest of the conference went by smoothly, and Seungcheol was pleased to have made more connections in hopes of expanding Going Company into international markets in later years. The conference was going to end with a dinner banquet, and if he was being honest, he had little motivation to go. Back to back early mornings was something Seungcheol had grown somewhat accustomed to, but the constant monitoring of his words and the never ending flow of conversation left him exhausted.

“Mr. Choi, we are to head to the dining hall in approximately fifteen minutes,” Seunghceol sighs when he hears your voice softly echo from the other side of the door. Seungcheol, he’s been asking that you call him Seungcheol when you were no longer in business settings.

When he opened the door to find you in a gorgeous shimmery dress that not only emphasized your beauty, but also made you glow, Seungcheol forgets why he was so opposed to the dinner in the first place.

“Your tie.”

Without another word you move closer to Seungcheol to adjust the tie around his neck properly. Seungcheol tries not to notice the soft curve of your lips, or the gentle flicker of your eyelashes that accompanied the air of elegance that wafted around you.

“Yn, I—”

“I’ll be handing in my letter of resignation once we come back to Korea Mr. Choi.”

“What?”

You had been in the company for barely over a year and Seungcheol thought that you had really enjoyed the flexibility of your schedule and the bonds you had formed with your colleagues.

“Is it Soonyoung from advertising? I know he can be a little energetic but I can have a chat with him and ask him to tone it down a little. Did you not like the event the marketing team held last month? I know it was a little different from what the company is used to but I want you to know that your opinions are valued and— or was it me? Did I forget to approve your last vacation claim—?”

'It’s none of that Mr. Choi, Going Company has the best company culture that I could have ever asked for. You were the perfect boss, and I thank you for letting me have an amazing work experience.”

“But why?” Seungcheol knew that it was no longer his place to be asking you about such things. You were in no way obligated to give a reason, but his emotions have gotten the better of him. He really, really liked you, and he felt guilty for making this a personal matter.

“I— I don’t think I can work under you anymore. I’m sorry but it seems that— I might have—”

You aren’t sure where the words are coming from. You were definitely not going to tell Seungcheol that you were quitting your job because you had fallen in love with him.

“I can’t give you an explanation, but I am going to resign and find a suitable replacement in due weeks time—’

“Yn, I like you.”

You feel your whole body freeze and stare up at your boss, no— Seungcheol, who for the first time in the several months you had worked at his side, looked a little unsure.

“Don’t say that. I’m going to start searching—”

“Will you just listen to me?” You were always so quick to respond to whatever Seungcheol asked you to do. But this time you felt as if you had lost the ability to speak.

“Be honest with me yn, are you— do you like me? Even just a little bit?”

You aren’t sure where your voice went. It’s somewhere far away but you have no intention of finding it. You hoped you could just melt into the ground and go back to your hometown without having to be in this situation. Life was much simpler there, there were no fast-paced evolving corporations and there were no endearingly nosy bosses.

“I do like you, very much so— and I’m not going to let that interfere with everything you have worked so hard for, and I’m sorry—”

“Please don’t apologize. Please don’t be afraid of me. And please don’t be afraid to fall in love, even if you would like nothing to do with me.”

“It’s not professional, what happens if something goes wrong?”

“Then we’ll work through it! You want to be serious about this right?”

You find yourself choking up, so you could only reply with a small nod of your head. This weekend was almost impossible to get through. You had promised your family that you were going to work hard and make it big in Seoul, this situation was something you never had expected to happen. You didn’t want to tell them about all the horrible treatment you had gone through under past employers. You avoided mentioning the sleepless nights, little pay and the side jobs you took on to pay the bills.

When you had secured a position at Going Company, the business was still small and trying to have its big break. You weren’t expecting the company to grow rapidly in just a little over a year, and you knew a big contributing factor to the company’s success was because of Seungcheol and his persistent efforts towards the employees. You didn’t want to tell your family that you had fallen in love with the first person that had treated you as an equal in the soul-sucking world of corporations.

“How do I know if I don’t like you just because you’re nice to me? You wouldn’t want someone like that, would you?”

“Well, do you?” This was the first time Seungcheol had seen you lose a bit of your composure. If he was being honest, you looked a little panicked and if you were under different circumstances, he would wrap his arms around you and curse every being that had made you think, for even a second, that you weren’t allowed to feel things like love. “What is it that you like about me?”

“I like your dedication to your employees. You never cared about what their position was and always valued their thoughts and opinions regardless. You never raised your voice when someone made a mistake, and you would always guide them through it. You never seem to lose your passion, even when the day goes haywire…”

You kept your head bowed down as you rambled on about the true feelings you had towards your boss. You felt pathetic, and you were not looking forward to receiving a call from home asking if you had finally settled on a job that was perfect, and that had met all your needs. If only your family knew that you were constantly in between jobs because several workplaces had been unkind to you, not because you were ambitious and were not willing to rest until you found something exactly to your liking.

“Would you like to try to make it work?”

There it was again. Seungcheol’s way of speaking never failed to amaze you. He would have never forced you to come on the business trip unless you agreed to it. He didn’t force you to speak with him for the entire plane journey and he didn’t further insist that he walked you to your hotel room. Everything always came down to your choice, and you knew that Seungcheol definitely was not going to force you into attempting a relationship, even if he knew that you shared the same feelings.

This is why you loved Seungcheol. And the realization brings you a comforting peace that you had been searching for, for so long. You were going to tell your family that you had found the perfect job, and you were going to say that it had everything you could have asked for. You were also going to tell them that you had found someone who was your perfect match. And that you wouldn’t trade either for the world.

“Can we? You know— try? I really, really would like to try.”

“Then we will, and we’re going to make it work.”

“Is it okay if we talk more about this once we’e back in Korea though? We’re still in the middle of, you know, business stuff.”

Seungcheol laughs for the first time in the evening. He’s tired, but it’s hearty and full, he can’t believe that you somehow regained your professional attitude in the midst of all this. “Of course we can, you know, after all this business stuff.”

•• The lock clicks, and the hinges slowly creak with the shifting of the door's weight.

Sneakers shuffle on the floor, stepping once, twice as he enters the room, matching the ticking of the living room wall clock, before stopping to shut the door; keys jingle before placed in a ceramic dish—a small find by a local artist at the Sunday market near the park downtown. He slips off his footwear, pushing them with the side of his foot beneath the shoe rack next to the door.

Jeonghan continues into his home, flicking on the small lamp on the side table next to the couch; a gentle glow envelopes the room before he makes his way to the bedroom.

Feet now only clad in socks pad softly down the hallway until the boy approaches the room at the end of the hall. His hand holds nothing but air as the side of his knuckles slowly pushes the ajar door, all while nearly holding his breath to maintain the peace enclosed in the small space.

The floor lamp is still on next to you despite there being no traces of your wake left. You're laying on your side, thumb trapped between the pages of your current novel, while the rest of your fingers bunch across the book's glossy cover.

Jeonghan fails to suppress the chuckle bubbling up from his chest at the sight of you: messy hair across your forehead, the blanket strangely wrapped around your torso, your shirt sleeve bunched up your arm. And yet, the boy finds himself closing the distance between him and your sleeping figure without thinking twice about it—brushing the hair from your face, smoothening out the duvet, fixing your shirt sleeve. He replaces your thumb with his in the centre of your novel, finding the scrap receipt folded up as a makeshift bookmark not to lose your place.

His attention shifts back to you when you hum, gradually rousing at the weight pressing the mattress down where Jeonghan sits by your side.

"You're home?"

"I'm home," he matches your low tone, wanting to coo at your voice groggy with sleep. "And it's late," he continues, "go back to bed, love."

Although, instead of obeying your boyfriend's wish, you shift onto your back and splay your arms out to each side with a pout gracing your lips as you mumble, "Hug me."

Another grin displays itself across Jeonghan's face at your act of affection; he isn't able to resist the warmth in the form of you when he scootches down slightly before leaning into you. Your arms wrap around him perfectly. His face fits in the crook of your neck.

"How was work?" you weave your fingers through Jeonghan's already messy hair, feeling him smile into you at your touch.

He shifts, moving his head from your shoulder and next to yours on your pillow, "Tiring as usual."

"But you still love it."

"I do."

Jeonghan continues to warble on, voice airy, covering the little insignificant details of his day—what he had for lunch, the way Seungkwan made him laugh later that afternoon, the prank he pulled on an unsuspecting Seungcheol, why he's grateful for his job.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"No," you admit faster than you can stop yourself, "but if it's any consolation, you're really pretty."

"Mmm," Jeonghan pulls you closer, "I'd believe you if you had your eyes open."

There's silence when you and Jeonghan remain to lie with your legs tangled. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, all while the boy fiddles with the sleeve of your shirt.

"You should get ready for bed, Han."

Jeonghan hums, fidgeting again and nuzzling further into the pillow, "I'm comfy like this."

"You're nearly falling off the bed."

"That's fine," he grins, "and if I end up sleeping on the floor, won't that just correct my posture?"

You want to roll your eyes at his joke, but instead, you only wrap your arms tighter around him, squeezing his torso and wanting him to stay despite your words for him to get up.

"Who needs clean teeth anyway?"

"You're disgusting," you quip back with a smile that couldn't remain covered.

But once he feels you fall back asleep, Jeonghan carefully removes himself from your hold. He finally brushes his teeth and changes his clothes, only to return shortly after (on his side of the bed this time), fitting himself around you like your neighbouring puzzle piece that so effortlessly clicks into place.

Maybe you weren't sleeping as Jeonghan had thought when he feels you reciprocate the hold he has on your hand.

One squeeze; I love you.

Jeonghan squeezes back; I love you too.

There's only silence in the room as your breaths gradually become heavier when, together, you manage to lull yourselves into a much-needed rest.

The conversation drips into something mellow and sweet, the taste of honey on your lips. Honestly, you and Vernon are a lot closer than you thought you’d be; when he’d first moved in and he was more of a friend-of-a-friend, you didn’t see yourself getting along with him. He was hard to read and too quiet for you to feel like you were making any progress… but it just took some time, really. You learned to make a few of his favorite foods and he sent you music recommendations, and before long the two of you were taking trips to the pet store together to fawn over the cats.

It’s easy and comfortable when your late-night talk melts into nothing, the two of you finishing your respective “meals” in the quiet of your apartment, save for the hum of the air conditioning. As you’re throwing away the wrapper to your snack you realize that you don’t really feel much better about sleeping, and you try to rack your brain for another option that might magically make you pass out.

And then Vernon says, through the quiet, “hey. Dance with me.”

He’s around your side of the kitchen island to put his empty bowl in the sink, and even in the unflattering light he looks serious. A little embarrassed, maybe, but he doesn’t seem like the type of person to do these types of things, so you respond, “but… there’s no music.”

He shrugs, a small smile on his face. “I don’t mind. Do you?”

You don’t know. A part of you has always wanted the cliche dancing-in-the-kitchen-in-our-pajamas experience, the midnight talks and gentle giggles shared under low light. You just didn’t really expect it to be with your best friend.

Either way, you think, it’ll be fun.

So you take his hand and it’s lacking a groove, Vernon steps on your feet and you step on his, but you manage to lead the both of you into a rhythm, laughing a little once you finally steady yourselves in a side-step-spin routine. 

The feeling is a slow creep up your veins and you feel it before it even reaches the tips of your toes.

All you can find in yourself to focus on is Vernon’s bedhead and bright eyes, the feeling of his hand over yours and the sudden reminder of his heart-shaped birthmark. You are fond just at the thought of him, so sure that you are giving him nothing but heart eyes.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, keeps his hands in yours and on your waist. You decide you’ll figure everything out later.

You rest your head on Vernon’s shoulder, face almost in the crook of his neck, as close to him as you can be. He smells like the fabric softener he always insists on buying and a cologne you remember him wearing on multiple occasions.

You could remember that day very clearly, the day that set everything into motion.

“Choi Seungcheol, I swear to fucking—” You had burst through the ice cream shop doors to find your best friend standing blankly with a jar of maraschino cherries in his hand. Next to him, the cashier opened one eye to look at you, neon red juice dripping down her cheek. “Dear god, don’t tell me you popped the girl in the eye?”

He looked to her then back to you, not realizing what had just happened until you came in. “What? Wait. Shit. It’s not what it looks like—”

“What the hell?” Another voice entered the small shop, all eyes, including yours, turning to the ridiculously tall guy coming from the back room. He was wearing the same uniform as the girl, only instead of a red and white pinstripe dress, he was wearing a matching shirt and bright red pants. The stripes were already ugly as hell, and to make things worse, they had those god awful paper hats that looked straight out of a 50’s diner. But that was the vibe of the ice cream parlor, wasn’t it? “Is this guy bothering you?”

“What?” the girl asked, genuinely confused by the situation. When she realized her friend was getting defensive, she quickly shook her head. “No, he was just helping me.”

The tall boy looked at her briefly before attempting to shift his gaze to Seungcheol, though his eyes stopped at you instead.

“What?” you mouthed to him, jutting your chin out. You expected him to look away immediately—speaking from past experience, people tended to avoid looking at you. You couldn’t help it if your resting bitch face kept their eyes off you, but that’s exactly what you wanted. Yet, for some reason, his eyes lingered on you longer than they should have. And you hated every moment of it.

He returned his attention to his coworker who was now assuring the two guys that she was fine and it really wasn’t a big deal. You walked over to Seungcheol and punched his shoulder. Wrong move. Realizing that was the shoulder he just got a tattoo on, you look at him apologetically when he turns and glares at you, biting his lip to keep calm.

“Dude, let’s go.” This time, you hit his arm with the back of your hand. “I have shit to do today.”

Seungcheol raised his eyebrow at you with suspicion, but he didn’t argue. He slowly but surely turned around, the two of you leaving the ice cream parlor.

“The fuck was that about?” you asked him.

“Nothing,” he replied, but you knew him better than that. You and Seungcheol had known each other for lord knows how long. In another life, maybe you would have called him your best friend, but that’s not something you would say out loud while you were still breathing on this earth.

———

A few days later, you were riding around town with Seungcheol again when you found yourself outside a familiar building. The plaster was painted a yellow, once bright but now dull from years of harsh sunlight. The sign to the parlor was also chipping and run down, the letters of ‘A Scoop of Heaven’ fading to the point it was barely legible in the daylight.

You don’t say anything to him, but you have a guess that this might have something to do with the cashier from yesterday.

“Ice cream? Again?” you asked, the judgement in your voice far from subtle.

“Shut up,” he shot back.

“I’ll wait out here.” You leaned against your bike, pulling out your phone to keep you busy while your friend went inside.

Seungcheol approached the counter, clearly he was a man on a mission. “Where’s your friend?” he asked Mingyu.

“Where’s your friend?” he rebutted.

“Mine? Why are you asking about her? I’m just asking about yours because of her eye yesterday.”

“I don’t know. I just find her… intriguing.”

“You got some kind of horror kink, dude?”

“What? No. What the hell?”

“Look, buddy, if I were you, I’d save yourself the time and energy. She’s not worth it unless you like living in fear.”

“Oh, come on. She can’t be that bad.”

“She really is. Trust me.”

Mingyu shrugged. “What’s your name? I’ll let her know you stopped by.”

“Seungcheol,” he said, putting his hand out.

Mingyu grasped it firmly, shaking it as if they were businessmen closing a deal. “Mingyu. Nice to meet you. Are you gonna get some ice cream or are you just here for my friend?”

“Oh. Right. A strawberry cheesecake for me, and a mint chocolate for my friend. Single scoop each.”

So, you liked mint chocolate ice cream, huh? “Sounds good.” Mingyu pulled the metal scoop from small tub of water,

“Here,” Seungcheol said, shoving the cup of ice cream in front of you.

“Easy, buddy, this jacket is real leather,” you reminded him.

“A little ice cream isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised your eyebrow at him. He looked back at you, confusion embedded in the wrinkles of his forehead, though soon they relaxed when he realized what you were doing. You started chasing him around the parking lot with your spoon, threatening to get it all over his jacket, something he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated.

Mingyu watched this go down from behind the counter, his eyes wandering every once in a while as he helped other customers. It was nice seeing you smile like that, though a part of him wished he could be the reason for it.

You could care less about anyone or anything else, but somehow, you were unsure of when these “group hangs” started happening. Maybe it was when Seungcheol started bringing his new girlfriend around that Mingyu started trailing along like a lost puppy. Regardless of the reason, you didn’t enjoy it one bit.

All of that bullshit led to you spending the day at the beach with these three. You didn’t mind Seungcheol’s girlfriend — she was your polar opposite. You wore denim and leather jackets, she wore flowy pants and sundresses. But maybe in another life, you two would have been friends. What you did mind, however, was the giant, bumbling idiot sitting next to you. It was still unclear how Seungcheol managed to rope you into these things, but one thing was for sure — you hated Mingyu. From the moment you met him, something about him just rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was how tall he was, or his caramel skin that you could just eat—

Shit.

“We’re gonna go on a walk,” Seungcheol announced to you and Mingyu. Shit, shit, shit. You watched your best friend take his girl’s hand as the two of them wandered off, acting like a cute couple. You were happy he was happy—again, not something you’d ever tell him, but damn it, they were gross. That left you with Mingyu…alone. Your worst nightmare come true.

“How’d you like the food?” Mingyu asked.

Ugh, small talk. Gross. “It was fine.” Well, actually, it was pretty delicious, but you? Showing any emotion other than indifference? Unheard of.

“Seungcheol told me you liked sandwiches, so I made them.”

“You made these?” There was a lot to unpack here: first, classic Seungcheol to make someone else do his dirty work. Second, Mingyu made those? For you?

“Yeah, took me a few hours.” The more he spoke, the more you wanted to punch him in those big biceps of his. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Mingyu was stupid and you hated him.

“Why would you do that?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“What do you mean what do I mean ‘why’?”

“Because… I like you?”

Holy shit. There was no way this was happening right now. “Well, stop.”

“I can’t just stop.”

“Whatever you’re thinking in your tiny little brain of yours, stop it. There’s nothing going on here.”

“Nothing? At all?” You could tell by the way his voice quivered that he took offense to your denial, but what did you care?

“Not a single, damn thing.”

“Not after all of those double dates?” Despite you two hanging out with Seungcheol and his girlfriend a lot, you assumed that it was mutually understood that you were both the third and fourth wheels, not on some double date thing.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. Silence fell upon you two, the crashing of the waves on the shore and screeching seagulls the only noise to fill the air. This whole situation felt like a set up, and if there was one thing you hated more than Mingyu, it was being pushed to do something you didn’t want to do.

That was the last time you saw him. Or heard from him, for that matter. You stopped going with Seungcheol to the parlor, he stopped coming along with his friend to the bar to visit you and Seungcheol. What was supposed to happen was that you would go along with your life exactly as planned, free of nuisances like Mingyu, and everything would be just fucking dandy.

But it wasn’t.

The days felt shorter, life became more dull, something in your life was missing. You hated not knowing what you were feeling, and the only way to settle this was to go on a ride, so you hopped on your motorcycle and hit the road, no destination in sight.

Riding around the city was supposed to be your release, but the adrenaline still wasn’t enough to clear your head of whatever was going on. You rode some more until finally you found yourself on a familiar path.

No, you shouldn’t go there, you couldn’t.

But it was like your bike had a mind of its own, slowing down right in front of the stupid ice cream parlor. You checked the gas meter only to find the needle teetering on the 'E'.

Great. Fucking great. Pulling out your phone to text Seungcheol, your eyes immediately fell upon the 1% at the top right corner of your screen. Of course. A heavy sigh left your lips, you looked towards the shop that was bustling with families and teenagers looking to have a sweet treat to counter the sweltering heat of the summer. You could go in there and hope that it was Seungcheol’s girlfriend and not Mingyu. Yeah. That could work, right? You’d ask her to text him and tell him what was up, and he’d be over in no time. Okay, you thought to yourself. Let’s just hope for the best. You adjusted your leather jacket (how you and Seungcheol always managed to wear one despite the temperature was a mystery to anyone and everyone), taking quick strides to enter the shop.

You had hoped for the best, but apparently you didn’t prepare for the worst. Mingyu was helping a customer when he heard the shop door bell ding.

“Hi, welcome to —”

You froze in the doorway, staring at him as customers reluctantly tried to maneuver around you.

How long had it been since you heard Mingyu say your name like that? No. Now was not the time. “Where’s your friend?”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I need her to text Cheol for me.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do you need her to text him?”

“Can you just leave me alone?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I never asked for your help.”

“Why do you always have to be like this?”

“What? It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu said your name with such desperation laced throughout his voice. It was exasperated, and honestly? You hated the way it sounded. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Can you shut up? Everybody’s staring at us.” You had unintentionally stopped the flow of business when you got into this argument with the store’s only cashier. Seungcheol’s girlfriend had left just minutes before you arrived, and funnily enough, she was on the back of his motorbike. Frustration built within you, your muscles tensing at the unwanted attention. “Forget it.” You stormed out the door, but Mingyu came trailing behind you after apologizing to the customers about having to deal with this “emergency.”

“What do you need Seungcheol for? Just tell me, and I’ll help—” he stopped himself. “Just let me hear you out.”

“I don’t want to tell you shit.” Tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. What the hell? You rarely ever cried, so why was this happening now, in front of the last person you wanted to see? “I’m sick of you.”

Without looking back, you marched forward, your legs working to get you anywhere but here. The sun was beginning to set when you found yourself a couple blocks down at the bar you worked at. It was your day off, and your coworkers were surprised to see you (you weren't exactly the type to be there voluntarily), but they didn’t ask questions when you sat down and asked for a shot of Hennessy. The gold liquid burned your throat, a feeling preferential to your frustration of today’s events. What was Mingyu’s deal? Why was he always looking out for you when he clearly had other girls who liked him way more than you? And why did a part of you miss when he would follow you around like a lost puppy? As the night progressed, your demands for one shot after the other increased. Eventually, your manager had to come out to stop you, her eyes clearly concerned about your current state of being.

“Let me call you a cab,” she told you as she escorted you outside, her hands keeping you steady in your drunken state.

“It’s okay,” you replied, shaking her off. “I can walk. My friend...there...he works...and his friend…Cheol’s girlfriend...”

Mingyu was cleaning up shop, mopping when he heard the bell ding again. Strange, he thought. The OPEN sign was clearly off and any sensible person would read the store hours first.

“Sorry, we’re closed—”

“Shut up, stupid.” Your words were garbled, but intelligible.

“What are you doing here?”

“Where’s my bike?”

“It’s outside.”

“Bike...” You sauntered outside to the exact spot where you had left it earlier in the day. Mingyu watched on carefully until he realized you were trying to ride it, a brief moment of panic washing over him before he remembered that it didn’t have any more gas. After you had left, he inspected the motorcycle to // see what you might need help with, soon realizing that you had indeed run out of gas. From there, it didn’t take long for him to guess that your phone had run out of battery. It took all of his willpower to not run after you right then and there, but there were customers waiting for him, so he returned inside. He texted Seungcheol and his girlfriend to see if they had seen you, but they hadn’t. He grew anxious as the night went by, but he couldn’t just leave. He was determined to go find you after he closed up, little did he expect that you would come sauntering in yourself, piss drunk.

Currently, you were leaning over your bike, hugging it for dear life.

“Bikey,” you mumbled. “I miss you so much.”

Mingyu couldn’t help but laugh at this sight. For all he knew, you were cold, aloof, an I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone-else kind of person, the kind of person other people were afraid of. Your heart was surrounded by four walls, barbed wire to keep anyone and everyone out. But in this moment, you were just like anyone else, soft and silly, upset at the fact that your motorcycle didn’t “Vroom vroom,” like you wanted it to.

“Hey, we should get you home,” Mingyu chided you gently. His arms wrapped around your shoulder, but you shook him off in protest.

“I don’t want to go home,” you pouted.

“Well, where do you want to go?”

“I want to stay here,” you stomped, like a small child throwing a tantrum. With you. The words came out so fast that Mingyu barely had time to process any of it. When he had registered what came out of your mouth, his jaw went slack.

“What did you just say?”

“I said,” you drawled. “I want to stay here.”

“With me?”

“I want ice cream.” Honestly, it was silly of him to think you would ever repeat yourself, even if you were drunk. But hey, it was worth a shot (no pun intended).

“I can get you ice cream.”

Your face lit up, just like a child’s would. “Really?”

“Really,” he replied, the softest smile forming on his face.

“I want mint choco,” you told him, attempting to stand up from your bike, though failing and stumbling to the ground. Luckily, Mingyu’s reflexes were fast enough to catch you from hitting the ground, your body in his arms. “Nice arms…”

“You like my arms?”

“I want mint choco.”

“Okay, let’s get you some mint choco.”

He lifted you up and brought you inside, sitting you down in a booth in case you tipped over. He had already cleaned the scoops, though he didn’t mind pulling out another one, even if it meant staying a little longer just to clean everything all over again. He opened the glass case, the cool air coming out at him all at once. Scooping one small heap of mint chocolate ice cream into a paper cup, he closed the case and returned to you, placing the ice cream in front of you.

You could barely grab the spoon, much less scoop some into your mouth, so Mingyu took it upon himself to feed you. He rested his head on one hand while the other held the spoon to your mouth.

“You know,” you told him, your words long and slurred. “I could get used to this.”

“What? Me feeding you?”

“Just… spending time with you.”

Mingyu was thankful you were drunk, otherwise you would have heard the booming of his heart as it palpitated from your words. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.”

“You’re so much nicer when you’re drunk.”

“Hey,” you pouted, eyebrows furrowing in response.

“You’re cute when you’re angry. You know that?”

“I’m not cute.”

“I think you’re cute.”

“I think you’re cute...hic!” Oh, the hiccups. Whenever you got shy or embarrassed, you would start hiccupping. Fortunately, being in your drunken state, you could care less.

“Are you saying you like me?”

You nodded fervently.

“Like, like like me?”

Your head would have rolled off if you nodded any harder, your hair falling in front of your face. Mingyu looked at you tenderly, his hand tucking a stray hair behind your ear. Your eyes softened, contrary to the usual glare you would give him. Without thinking, you leaned in, your face quickly closing the gap between the two of you. “Are we about to kiss right now?”

Mingyu chuckled. “Alright, no more drinks, time to get you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Well, you have to.” Mingyu took your cup and spoon and threw it in the trash. He helped you up and the two of you got into his car. It took him a while to get your address out of you, eventually resorting to Seungcheol for a response. The drive home was quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts. It was hard to believe what you had said to him earlier. Did you really like him? Or were you just saying nonsense because you were drunk?

As nice as it was to hear these words from you, he would only take them at face value. If you meant anything you said, he’d want to hear it from you when you weren’t five shots of Hennessy and two beers in.

“We’re here,” he spoke softly. When you didn’t respond, he turned to find you asleep, your head resting on the window. He got out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door as slowly as possible so you wouldn’t come flying out. Your body flopped into his arms, and he rearranged himself so you were on his back.

Seungcheol came downstairs to open the door for you two and show Mingyu where you kept your spare key.

“Thanks, man,” Mingyu told him.

“No problem. Text me if you need anything.” Seungcheol waved him off, returning to his own apartment where his girlfriend was waiting for him.

“Shit,” Mingyu huffed. “Maybe I should have asked him to open the door first.”

“Stupid,” you mumbled, half-asleep, but still slightly conscious.

A small chuckle left Mingyu’s lips. There was that same feisty energy you always had.

Finally, he was able to unlock the door to your apartment, the interior a stark contrast to the rest of your aesthetic. It was full of earthy tones, from the beige walls, to your tan comforter and matching pillows, it was very warm compared to your usual persona you showed the rest of the world. Mingyu set you down gently on your bed, a groan coming from the depths of your chest as you shoved your face into the pillow. Mingyu searched your apartment for a towel to wipe down your face with — it was the least he could do without overstepping his boundaries, you would just have to deal with waking up in a rough state in the morning.

Sunlight trickled through your blinds, hitting your eyes just perfectly (as in, it was blinding the shit out of you) when you woke up. Last night had been a bit of a blur, though you tried to put together bits and pieces. On your bedside table, your phone was plugged in and at 100% battery. You pulled the charger out to check your messages, just one from Seungcheol asking how you were.

Not one to enjoy texting, you called him.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” his hoarse voice teased from the other end. He had probably just woken up, too, judging by the raspiness in his voice.

“Shut up,” you told him.

“How’s the hangover?”

“I feel like shit, but it’s not the worst hangover I’ve ever had.”

“Drink some water,” he nagged. He was a couple years older than you which meant he felt the need to act like an older brother sometimes, and you couldn’t say you appreciated it much.

“Okay, mom. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“What?”

“What? Didn’t you bring me back last night?”

Seungcheol’s laughter was bad news. You could only imagine what was to come out of his mouth next. “All I did was let Mingyu into the building and show him where your key was.”

“You did what?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Aren’t you two dating or is that just a fuck ton of repressed sexual tension?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

If you had the energy to storm up to his apartment, you absolutely would have, and you would have ended him right then and there.

“Look,” he continued. “All I’m saying is that y’all got something going on.”

“That’s none of your business.” You weren’t sure if you were angry, annoyed, or embarrassed because maybe, just maybe, he was right. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hung up on your friend. “I hate him.”

You sat up in your bed, hunched over from the slight stomach ache and soreness in your muscles. Blurred memories of the previous started flooding back, including the ones of your confession to him, though you couldn’t quite make out what exactly was said or what the response was. On your bedside table, where your phone had previously been, was a cup of water and a small note.

Make sure you drink the whole glass and take some painkillers for the headache.

There was no name at the bottom, but you knew Mingyu had written it based off of Seungcheol’s words. You pulled yourself out of bed to take a cold shower. The goal was to clear your mind of Mingyu, but as the droplets of water hit your face, he was the only thing you could think about. For so long, you had denied any and all feelings for him because you were afraid. Afraid of letting your walls down, afraid of being vulnerable with someone and afraid of having your world completely shattered just as it had been in your last relationship.

But there was something comforting about Mingyu, something that made you feel safe while also courageous to let your guard down again for the first time in a long time. You stepped out of the shower with a new resolve, ready to love face him and your feelings.

Your hands shook as you put on a fresh band t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. You couldn’t be bothered to put on your usual white t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and leather jacket, not in this near 100 degree weather. Your bike was nowhere to be seen, which meant it was still at the shop. Great. Well, it didn’t matter because you were headed there anyway. The only option you had was to take the bus which you absolutely hated, because, well, you hated people. But between that and walking, it was your best choice.

As you neared the ice cream parlor, your breath grew shorter, the palpitations in your chest growing at an increasing speed. You paused, staring at your bike out in front, exactly where you had left it yesterday. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe this was a bad idea. Besides, you couldn’t exactly remember what you had said to Mingyu last night, nor what his response was. What if you confessed everything and he rejected you? But why would he take you home? He wasn’t an asshole though, you told yourself, so even if he did reject you, maybe he only took care of you out of pity.

“You know what? I’ll just grab my bike and walk it to the nearest gas station and leave,” you whispered under your breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Just go grab it real quick. He’s probably busy, so he’ll never see me.”

You took big strides to the motorcycle, being careful not to look inside the shop, though your curiosity nearly got the best of you.

Inside, Mingyu was talking to his friend/Seungcheol’s girlfriend when you entered his line of sight. He watched you curiously, your steps hurried and frantic, his face lighting up since he knew you would show up at some point.

“Did you text her?” his friend asked.

“No, but I figured she’d have to come get her motorcycle at some point,” he replied. She nodded, knowing full well how much you and her boyfriend depended on getting around the city on your beloved bikes.

“Where is she going?”

Mingyu looked out the window again, having been briefly distracted by an error on the cash register. “I… don’t know.”

“You should go check—” she told him, but he was already out the door, calling out your name.

You froze, chills running down your spine. Shit. Nothing ever went as planned whenever it had anything to do with Mingyu, though secretly, maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.

“How are you feeling?” he asked you.

“Um, fine,” you replied sheepishly.

He wasn’t sure what to say or what to do, so he stood there, the two of you basking in a familiar, yet still uncomfortable, silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “So, do you have anything to say to me?”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“No?”

He raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“No.” Yes. Kind of.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said, a smug grin forming on his face. God, he was so hot, but so annoying.

You absolutely despised how he could make your blood boil yet also make your heart beat faster than you’ve ever experienced. Time slowed as the two of you stood there awkwardly, just staring at each other like cowboys in a bad Hollywood Western showdown.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” Why wouldn’t he just answer you? You didn’t come here to play games. In fact, it took a lot of courage to even come here in the first place, and you weren’t exactly sure what it was, but something inside you snapped.

“You know what, Mingyu? I’m so tired of you. I'm so tired of walking around on eggshells with you that I finally found the courage to come here and tell you how I feel. But then you decide it’s funny to mess with me? Haven’t you had enough?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that I came here because I like you, Mingyu,” you blurted. You were huffing and puffing when the realization that you just confessed your feelings to him washed over you. Mingyu did nothing but smile, his body coming closer with every step he took.

“You said it, not me,” he said.

“Stop right there.”

“So, you’ll go out with me, right? Officially?”

“I’ll go on....dates,” you said, suddenly shy. “With you.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing this whole time?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Just,” you sighed. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

You didn’t have to say it twice because Mingyu was already grabbing you by the waist, pulling you in until your noses were smushed together.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered to you.

Both the inky black sky and sea stretched into the horizon whichever direction you looked. Land had long disappeared off your field of vision as you sailed further into the ominous sea. Waves rocked against the side of the ship, occasionally spilling water into the cellar you were held in through the small gap on the wall. The gap was a pathetic attempt at a window, all jagged with uneven edges that could barely fit a hand through, but you were thankful for any link to the world outside. It kept you hopeful.

The light from the kerosene lamp hanging outside your cell would swing every now and then, enough to illuminate the marks you’ve left on the wall. Picking up a piece of charcoal, the medium you’ve become accustomed to using, you added another streak to your tally. It was yet another night wasted locked below deck.

It made you wish that you should’ve kept your mouth shut instead. But you knew that your conscience would haunt you if you let the crew of measly bold men make another attempt at crossing the Great Beyond without giving them a heads up on what awaited them. 

You recalled the sound of your booths clicking against the wooden dock as you weaved through the crew trying to load in the last of the ship’s supplies. Their words flew past your ear as you climbed on to the main deck, neck strained in search of the ship’s captain. The famous Lovecraft, mastermind of the outrageous plan and said Captain of the Cursed Raider, spared you an unenthusiastic look before tapping the nearest crewmate. Thinking he was considering your warning, you waited. Little did you know that he was uttering an order that would put your life on standstill until the ship docked at the other side of the sea. He figured it was yet another attempt at catching a free ride on the impossible journey, so he threw you in with the others who attempted to do so. 

And you ended up exactly where you didn’t want to be; on the ship, sailing to certain death. 

But the voyage, so far, had remained uneventful—far from what you kept on insisting back on the docks. Maybe the stories you heard about one-man crews returning from failed expeditions weren’t true after all. If you said it out loud, it would be the greatest mockery to your great grandfather who experienced it first hand.

The townsfolk flocked to the docks as the lighthouse keeper announced that he spotted the Soul Cairn at the edge of the horizon. But their cheers slowly died down as the ship drew, realizing that there was only one passenger aboard. The lone sailor had been your great grandfather and the rest of his crewmates were littered across the deck with the spare sail draped over their rotting bodies. Rumor had it that the stench of the bodies was what made your ancestor go mad.

For days after he docked alone, all he could manage to say were 6 words: pirates, hourglass, stripes, ghosts, revenge, and death. He was hanged within a week of his arrival after being accused of murdering his entire crew. But he was only the first of many other voyagers who returned mad and alone. Those who came back told the same story. An unlucky few were never heard from again. The Great Beyond was said to be home to pirates who left only one man in the entire crew alive to tell the tale of their existence; seemingly to pass the message that they were still out there ready to strike revenge upon those who wronged them.

The frequency of the disasters were enough to scare anyone who dared to venture by sea. Ultimately, all travels across the Great Beyond were halted or rerouted for decades. Until about a month ago when a foolish group of middle-aged men decided to set course for the deadly route in hopes of finding land on the other side.

Though everyday spent out at sea never guaranteed any safety, you were starting to think that maybe the stories were nothing but hearsays afterall. An attempt to scare the citizens of the seaside city to stay put and never explore. Every day, the crew picked a single person from the cellar to allow on the main deck. You’ve been out a few times, getting your single dose of sunlight before they locked you below deck again for next week or so. At least, sleep came easy to you during the night. 

The boat swayed whenever a sizeable wave rolled beneath, reminding you of the cradle from your childhood. Being homesick out at sea was tolerable, so long as you still had a bit of home with you. For you, home was the rocking of the boat. Subtle rocking, anyway.

Your eyes shot open when a keg rolled off the pile it was stacked on with a loud thump. Liquid spilled through and flooded the floor below deck. Sleeping folks groaned in their cells, disturbed by the accident. You sat up and backed away from the spillage, thanking your lucky stars that it didn’t cover the whole floor. But when you spared it a second look, you realized that it simply didn’t have the chance to.

A chill raced down your spine at the sudden temperature drop, watching curiously as the liquor froze right before your eyes. Every puff of air you let out clouded the space in front of you which made you wonder if the ship’s route encompassed sailing into subzero territory.

Rising to your feet, you peeked out the window and saw nothing. Outside, the world was grey. There were no glaciers, no sky, no sea. The thick fog seeped in through the openings, cooling the lower deck down than normal. A lot of the others remained unbothered by it, even thankful for the cold gust. You couldn’t sit still at all. 

Your eyes scanned for the fog’s end but you couldn’t make out anything beyond a few feet. The sea water still sloshed against the ship’s hull, occasionally against your outstretched hand, but you couldn’t see its surface anymore. 

A loud thump on the deck above you made you draw your hand back. A shout echoed across the deck, a signal for when the ship was under attack. The same voice attempted another call to arms but he ended up gurgling in his own words, falling to the floor with a loud thud. You shrunk to the floor, hand pressed tightly against your lips to hold back your shrieks. You didn’t have to see anything to know what was happening up there. 

The fog had begun to clear and from the thick clouds emerged the silhouette of a ship’s bowsprit. Your jaw dropped at how massive the ship was when the rest of it came to view. It was easily twice as large as the ship you were on. The tip of its masts were so high up, it disappeared back into the fog beyond your vision. Of the whole ship, only the main deck appeared clearly along with its sail and the flag of black and bloody red stripes. 

The upper deck had burst into chaos. Orders were shouted left and right, waking everyone up. Some of the crew have already marched below deck, loading the ship’s cannons with grapeshots before lighting the barrels up. “Fire!” they said, and the entire ship would shake as the heavy balls of lead shot out, directly on to the enemy ship but seemingly doing little to no damage. 

Men from the enemy ship swung on braided ropes, landing on the deck one after the other. Their footfalls thundered across the wooden floor as the crew tried to fend them off. Shouts echoed across the deck along with the clashing of metal against metal. The floor groaned beneath them, carrying the weight of more bodies than it had been built for. 

You could hear muffled cries and strained screams, followed by dull thuds on the wooden floorboards. The uncertainty of not knowing whose blood dripped through the crack on the ceiling made you quiver. You didn’t know which side was winning. 

Outside your cellar, the crew fired the last of the cannonballs still to no avail. The side of the enemy ship was littered with holes but it still managed to remain afloat. The crewmates searched the lower deck for more projectiles to load but all the kegs and craters have been emptied out.

“There’s more on the deck!” One of the crewmates shouted, pausing when he realized it before darting for the upper deck. But he froze at the foot of the stairs, staring up with wide eyes and his mouth hung open. He took stiff steps aside to make way for someone coming down the stairs. 

“What are you doing?!” the other crewmate yelled.

Before his comrade could reply, a gun fired—echoing down the hall of cellars. The man’s body collapsed at the foot of the steps as blood began to pool around him. The others in the cellars let out muffled gasps. The staircase creaked as a pair of tall men descended down the staircase together, nudging the boy’s dead body aside to clear their path. One reached up to grab the kerosene lamp from its hook to illuminate their way down the hall, panning the light as they passed each cell to glimpse at the occupants with blank gazes. 

The other crewmate stood frozen, backed against the cannon’s tail. His attempt to conceal his presence fails as he trips on an empty pail. The pair of pirates turned their heads in his direction almost immediately, slowly walking towards the spot where the crewmate was. They stood over him before they ended his anxious misery with a gunshot to the head. Like his companion, he crumpled to the floor.

With the lamp illuminating their faces, you noticed that the pair’s faces were deathly pale—the lightest shade of grey. Their hair flowed as they paced the hallway, as if it were submerged in water that you couldn’t see. Their clothes and bodies were littered with bullet holes but there wasn’t a single drop of blood on their trial. Their insides, where muscles and organs should’ve been, were hollow. They were walking skin and bone. 

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, pausing right outside your cell. The pair turned to the cell across you first before they turned to yours. 

For moments, they observed you in silence. Their stoic expressions made you unsure if they stared out of pity or in calm rage. Finally, the man with an eyepatch draped over one eye pointed at you with a bony finger, “Her.”

An amalgamate union of voices booms loudly in your ear. The man had barely opened his mouth but you were certain that the voice had belonged to him. His voice was deep and rich and haunting, like  the voices of the sirens that lured sailors to their deaths in the deep sea. 

His companion nodded, stretching his arm through the gap between the metal bars of your cell. He had a hook where his hand should have been and the iron glinted with the rich orange light of the flame from the kerosene lamp. With one strong tug, not only does the cell door open but the whole metal gate was wrenched out of its place. Unhooking his hand, he let the iron rattle and fall on the ground in front of you.

“If you could come with us,” the same deep voice said. 

You knew better than to go against them. Wordlessly, you walked out of your cell, thankful for the moment of freedom but not for the circumstance it came with. Pairs of terrified eyes watched as the pair marched you down the hallway, one leading the way and the other behind you. The air between them was frigid and every breath you exhaled clouded in front of you. You willed yourself to continue to walk forth, even when your knees trembled with every step. 

They led you up the stairs and on to the main deck. The air was much colder outside even when the fog had already cleared into a light mist. You could see as far as the ship’s end but the area beyond it still remained hidden behind the cloud of grey. Across the Cursed Raider was the ship you only saw through the gap back in your cell. The whole thing was painted black, blending in with the sky and the sea. Its flag bore the whole ship’s only accent, the vibrant red stripes.

Around you the aftermath of the invasion showed a clear winner. Men who wore the familiar white sailor’s uniform lay lifeless on the floor, soaked in their own blood. Your blood ran cold at the sight of the massacre, breath hitching as you stumbled backward and away from the sight. Your back collided with the man’s chest and he stared down at you with the single eye left uncovered. You mumbled a quick apology immediately.

“Song,” a voice said and you realized that it came from the man in front of you. His voice was the same as the other’s, a cold string of multiple voices all combined into one. “Take care of the rest,” he ordered. 

The man behind you nodded before he disappeared back below deck. 

When you turned back around, you found a pair of lifeless eyes gazing down at you. In the moonlight you realized that his eyes were familiar, ones that you stared into on the posters in your father’s study. The resemblance was uncanny; he had the same pair of round eyes and the same tall nose. Once puffy cheeks were now sunken and his hair wasn’t patted down the way it had been in the wanted poster’s drawing. Though you could list down all their similarities, the single difference that made both profiles distinct was the date between today and the poster’s publication. If his posters were around from the time of your ancestor, he should’ve been long dead by now.

He turned his head, gesturing for you to come forth. All of the men who remained standing on the deck possessed the same ghastly features; pale thin flesh and pearl white bones beneath the uncovered parts of their body and the hollowness within. You recognized the others’ faces too, all of which belonged to the same pile of wanted posters from decades ago. Their faces were grim and stoic, moving with quick calculated steps as if they were controlled by string—awaiting their master’s next command. All of their eyes were trained at the quarterdeck and you followed.

On the elevated platform stood Lovecraft and a few other pirates. The once fierce-looking lad stood at the mercy of unfamiliar invaders who’ve overpowered him on his own ship, leaving him as the last man standing.

“You can kill everyone on this boat and spare me,” he began to negotiate. 

Across him, a silver-haired bandit raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Why should I spare you? What do you have to offer?”

“My skills in navigating the sea,” Lovecraft blurted out, lying through gritted teeth before spitting out bitterly, “Captain.”

“Skills?” 

“As you can see, I aim to cross the Great Beyond,” he announced proudly, but his statement sent the entire crew of pirates howling in laughter. All save for their captain who only continued to stare amusedly. 

The one they called Captain continued only when the laughter had finally died down. “Any skilled sailor would know that it’s foolish to even attempt to cross the Great Beyond.”

Lovecraft’s smile disappeared as his expression darkened. “You call me foolish and yet here you are as well,” he answered, tone shifting as he reached for something behind him. “Perhaps, you are the foolish one.”

With one swift move, he drew his pistol out, aimed at the man across him and fired. You let out a gasp as the gunshot’s echo reverberated in the silence, but you had been the only one who was surprised. The bullet’s force knocked the man’s head back and you waited for the familiar thud of a fallen body but it doesn’t come. The captain of the Cursed Raider smiled before bursting into fits of hysterical laughter at what he’d done. He kissed the barrel of his gun in high praise, bragging to the remaining crew members for outsmarting their captain. You didn’t get the point of his celebration, not while the said captain still remained upright even after a clean gunshot to the head. 

The captain’s laugh began with a low grumble, quiet but enough to silence the other. He jerked his head back up, letting everyone witness the way his flesh patched up the hole the bullet left behind. 

Lovecraft’s jaw dropped in horror and disbelief. He staggered backwards, accidentally dropping his gun when he could no longer control the way his hands quivered. His back rammed straight into two other pirate men, shrieking when he saw one’s skull through a missing patch of skin.

His attention is drawn back to the captain when he hears a gun click. Before he could turn his head, he already felt the cold metal barrel of the gun pressed against his temple. His eyes scanned the deck frantically, panic and fear rushing through him when he laid eyes on all the lifeless bodies scattered across. But alas, his eyes find yours.

“You there! Do something!” He called from across the deck. Eyes turned in your direction and the ghosts waited for you to make a move. 

But you could only do so much when you were surrounded too.

The silver haired man chuckled at the lad’s horror-stricken expression, clicking his tongue before he opened his mouth to say, “Estupido.” Then he pulled the trigger.

You looked elsewhere at the last second, hearing only the ringing sound of the gunshot and the dull thud of Lovecraft’s falling body. The men on the quarterdeck shuffled and soon enough you heard their footfalls as they descended on to the main deck, slowly making their way to where you stood. It took you a few more moments before you looked back up again. The captain’s face had the same ghostly features his crew had, and it was just as familiar as everyone else’s, except his face didn’t belong to one of the wanted posters compiled back in the study. 

His face was the one etched on your great grandfather’s sketches—the ones he sketched repeatedly on the days leading up to his execution. He had a pair of hooded eyes rimmed with dark shadows that stood in stark contrast against his pale skin. A crack ran down his eyebrow up to his cheek, exactly the way your forefather drew him. There was no trace of the bullethole anywhere.

He stopped a mere foot away from you. You shivered.

“You look just like your father.” His voice was quiet, almost calm. You barely heard it with the pulsing in your ear. “Did he send you?”

You parted your lips to reply but your answer doesn’t come easily. You choke back a stutter, willing yourself to get your crap together and show now fear. “No. No, he didn’t.”

“What brought you aboard this pathetic ship then?”

You averted your gaze, staring at his maroon coat instead of his piercing dark eyes. Raking your mind, you desperately tried to recall how you ended up on the ship. “I,” you stammered, “I was just trying to warn them of the dangers that came with crossing the Great Beyond.”

He let out a low, earthy chuckle. “Oh, the wise one that you are. You really are your father’s daughter. How’s he doing?”

His words flicked off a switch in your mind and it filled you with rage. You recall the day you first asked your dad about the study, about the faces on the wanted posters, about what happened to his grandfather. Another memory of your father’s struggles to gain even your neighbor’s trust resurfaces and a flurry of other unpleasant memories comes back in a blink of an eye. Not a single person in your village looked at you normally; it was either out of pity, fear or disgust. All of them assuming that the deranged gene had been passed on to you.

“He’s dead, thanks to you,” you snapped, eyes meeting the Captain’s when you took a bold step forward—as if you weren’t trembling in his presence a moment ago. “You and your stupid pirate crew drove the poor man mad. You’re a monster!”

Heads turned in your direction as the words left your lips. The crew began to mutter around you and from your periphery you could see them zeroing on you. All of which the man in red dismissed with nothing but a wave of his hand. Everyone fell silent, everyone fell back into place.

“So I’ve been told,” he answered in the same amused tone, “Tell me, how am I a monster?”

“You mercilessly kill all but one passenger on every ship you come across.”

He cut you off with a laugh before you could continue. “My, did they do a splendid job in turning the story around!”

The captain turned away from you and you followed his gaze. You found yourself looking at the enormous ship docked next to the one where you both stood. He reached for something buried deep in his pocket, a miniature hourglass just about the size of his hand. He watched as the last of its contents emptied out to the bottom of the glass.

“I was from your town too, lass. That godforsaken town ruled by the filthiest of bastards. They hunted us down when we robbed them of the things they robbed from the people,” he said as he kicked one of the bodies lying around. A few gold coins poured out of the dead man’s pocket. “They chased us out into the open sea, sank our ship and left us drowning or shot us dead.”

Your eyes landed on the crewmate with an exposed skull.

“All we ever wanted was to know what it felt to live life not worrying about our next meals. And now we’re doomed to an eternity at sea, never to set foot on land again while these fuckers sail the seas to other isles to rob even more people.” He continued before he paced back to where you were. “Now tell me, who’s the monster?”

“Why not kill us all?” you asked.

“Not every ship is filled to the brim with these scoundrels. We spare those who’ve been unjustly treated like we have been, people just like you.” he answered, walking up to you until you were a mere hairsbreadth away. He leaned forward until his mouth was right by your ear. “I’m sure you’ll pass the message to the Captain of Hangman’s Hollow. Tell the General that I await his return to the Great Beyond.”

And just like that he vanished, just as quick as he came.

When you opened your eyes again, the fog had disappeared and you were met with the same inky black sky and the sea that stretched out wherever you looked. The moon hung overhead and its light bounced off the ripples of the waters beneath. The ship that loomed beside yours was nowhere to be seen and the main deck was devoid of the ghostly figures that had been there a second ago. Only the aftermath of the battle remained. 

What they did in their sick pursuit for revenge was inexcusable still, but a part of you understood the feeling of always being at the bottom of the wheel. You thought about the crew; their thirst for vengeance and the captain’s parting words. They were souls lost in time, trapped at the place they met their demise until the day they’d achieve vengeance. Completely unaware that they’ll never be able to do so as the man they searched for was long gone and had been for nearly a century now. 

You pitied them, knowing that their final quest to achieve the peace they sought for would end in vain. You wished you’d come across them in the waters of the Great Beyond just so you could tell them. Though you were unsure if their ears were open to anything, and maybe they wouldn’t be kind to spare your life the second time around. 

But you had other things to worry about. You were standing in the middle of a floating casket, undecided on which direction to sail. Going forth meant a new clean slate but with the guilt of an entire crew’s death, sailing back meant certain death at the hands of the bereaved families. 

No wonder your great grandfather went mad. 

You were the only living soul for miles. And in the whole voyage back to your hometown, you could wish that you weren’t.

The front door closed with a slam, the rest of the members abandoning you to take care of Soonyoung yourself. Sitting on the couch, your eyes slowly moved away from the TV and to Soonyoung who stared at you.

You awkwardly smile as he hiccups and giggles. You look back at the TV, thinking that he would turn his gaze away from you, but his dark orbs continued to look at your profile.

“You’re beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to answer him as you focus back on the show that was playing on the screen. You had never seen your boyfriend drunk the entirety of your relationship, let alone be alone with him while he’s drunk.

You turn your head to look at him, eyes widening when you realize that his face is right in front of yours. He pouts at you. “Why didn’t you reply?”

You giggle and pinch his cheek. “You’re drunk.”

He pouts more, his eyelids fluttering as he hiccups again. “Doesn’t mean I can’t compliment my baby~” You roll your eyes and slowly push him back by his shoulders. He holds his unfinished drink in hand. “Accept my love!”

You laugh, and gaze into his eyes. “Why couldn’t they take you home with them?”

He giggles and shuts his eyes. It stays closed for a moment, the sound of the show in the background slowly dies out as you stare at your boyfriend. He slowly opens his eyes and smiles cheekily.

“Are we about to kiss right now?”

You shove him back and stand up, a laugh erupting from your chest. “Alright,” you take his drink out of his hand and place it on the coffee table, “no more drinks, time to get you home.”

You pull his arm to help him up from the couch. He stands, slowly leaning against your body that held him. “Gimme kiss first.” You scoff, wrapping your arm around him.

“Fine.” You lean in and quickly give him a kiss to his cheek. You see him pout for the millionth time, the kiss on the cheek not satisfying him. “Take it or leave it.”

He rolls his eyes, a cheeky smirk making its way onto his lips. He lets go of you, taking a step forward and out of your reach. “Okay, but I’m sleeping here tonight.”

He dashes for the hallway, his sentence lagging, resulting in you processing it too late. You smile to yourself, thinking that Soonyoung is going to regret getting drunk in the morning.