you were mark’s entire world. you excited him, you built him up like no other. never before could he see himself spending his life with someone before you came along. you made the world brighter to him.

but now he was only seeing red. 

you had been a trainee and never debuted, which you weren’t too upset about, you had a boyfriend you loved and a career with less physical and time demands than being in the entertainment industry. this meant that you knew a lot of other bands, stray kids being one of them. chan was, quite frankly, your best friend during your trainee days, so when you saw him at this afterparty you were attending with mark, you threw yourself into his arms.

mark just watched you from afar.

and his blood boiled.

chan spun you around in his arms, the biggest smile on his stupid, handsome face. “yah!! y/n! mark didn’t say you’d be here.”

you giggled, trying to keep your tears at bay. you put your hands on his face, poking his dimples. mark scoffed at the blush that was forming on his friend’s face. “god, chan i missed you so much.”

“bro, you look constipated,” bam snuck up behind him. “dude, your face is so red right now.”

mark rolled his eyes. “these parties are so annoying.” he didn’t take his eyes off of you as you caught up with chan, who still had his hand around your waist.

bam followed his line of vision. “shit, you’re not constipated, you’re jealous. yugyeom, come look at him!”

mark walked away from his intoxicated friends and up to you. you smiled at him before returning to your conversation with chan. 

“y/n, we have to go,” mark said lowly, smiling a sickly fake smile at chan, who immediately dropped his hand from your waist. 

“why, baby, we just got here? are you not feeling good?” you asked. he wanted to feel bad, your voice was laced with concern.

“something like that. see you, chan.”

as you got in the car, you smiled at him, poking his cheek. “somebody’s jealous, huh?”

“huh? of chan? i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he clenched his jaw, not making eye contact with you as he steered his car out of the parking lot. you were giggling now.

“you’re cute when you’re jealous. maybe i should make more time for chan.”

“y/n!!!”

jaebeom; wearing disguises in public

jaebeom never thought he would have to dress up in a disguise to go out in public. and jae would never want to put you in such a position. it was draining, and you, as his girlfriend knew that he despised it.

but you wanted to go to a concert with him.

and you wanted to stand in the pit with him and be part of it. don’t get you wrong, you loved when he bought you suite seats or could watch his shows from backstage, but you wanted to sway to ariana grande in th pit with your boyfriend.

“cmon, jae, i think everyone is going to be paying attention to ari. we can skip the opening act?” you suggested.

“y/n, i don’t want to take a chance...im sorry,” he pouted at you. you sighed, trying to figure out what to do.

“what about disguises?” he said. “like, we could wear our halloween costumes?” you were giggling to yourself, but your boyfriend seemed like the idea.

“i could wear my jesus wig and you could paint a beard on me?” he said with serious eyes.

“jae, you hate going out in disguises.”

“true...but, babe, this will be fun. you could wear your sailor mars wig, it’d be cute,”

okay, this was a really cute idea and you were warming up to it...if it made your boyfriend more comfortable to be out in a crowd of so many people, you were down to try it out.

“this really feels like halloween in july,” you giggled as you used mascara to draw a beard on his chin.

“do I look like jesus??” he asked childishly.

“well, you don’t look like im jaebeom of got7, that’s for sure,”

“you look like an egirl,” he laughed at himself. “don’t hate, you know you love it,” you said. “we look so cute, let’s take a mirror selfie and post in later,”

“no, then people will be on to us,” your boyfriend sent a pout in your direction as he looked at his makeshift beard in the mirror. “I look sexy as fuck in a beard,”

“super sexy aegyo please?”

the two of you arrived at the arena, not be noticed by anyone, but jae was still on edge, so you held his hand tight as you made your way into the pit.

“im so excited!!” you shouted over the noise. he shook his head before leaning in to kiss you. the two of you danced the whole night away to arianas crooning, his arms around you as you swayed to her pretty, soothing voice. the two of you let the world fade away while ariana sang honeymoon ave in the background.

jackson; his significant other saying ily first.

it was no secret that jackson was stock full of love and kindness. he had had other partners before you, all with him ending up getting too attached, or scaring them away when he said “I love you” too early.

he did not want to scare you away, and honestly, he had known he loved you two months into dating, but he didn’t want to scare you away, so he never outwardly said those three little words to you.

he wasn’t expecting you to say it, first though.

you had invited him over for dinner and a movie, just wanting a chill night in with your boyfriend. he brought the wine and promised to give you a back massage, so really, what more could you want on this chilly thursday night?

“what’s been going on, honey? you know you can tell me anything,” jackson whispered into your ear as he helped you out of your clothes.

“I feel like I deserve to oversee my department at work. i have the most education of all of them, more experience than them, and generally, I am more optimistic than my superiors….,” you sighed, letting him rub just under your shoulder blades, which had been itching all week.

“mmm?”

“i think they might be scared of powerful women who like to wear hot pink fendi suits to work,” you smiled, knowing he would be offended at your joke. you could almost feel him pouting.

“so the reason you can’t get the job is because your superiors don’t like the suits your boyfriend buys you? wow, what a way to hurt a guy’s pride…,” he followed your lead on the joke, trying to make you laugh because he knew this was really getting to you. “baby, I think you should go to their boss and see if you can get a promotion…tell them everything you told me, okay? i know you’re not only the best woman for the job, but the best person for the job…period,” he said, making you feel so overwhelmed with emotion. none of your previous partners had ever revered you the way jackson had. you felt so incredibly blessed and in love, you couldn’t help yourself.

“god, jackson, I love you so much,” you whispered.

the movement of his soft hands on your back stopped abruptly at your words. ‘oh god, was it too early to say that?’

“j-jackson…im sorry-“

“ive been waiting to say that to you,” he breathed against your lips, closing the distance that was between them.

“jackson wang….you love me?” you could feel the tears building. the man of your dreams was in love with you, too.

“i love you,” he whispered reverently.

“say it again,” you begged. he said it like a mantra.

“i love you, i love you….i love you..”

jinyoung; moving in together

jinyoung thought you were so cute. you were ecstatic to move with jinyoung. you had been living in your shared apartment with your mom your whole life and we’re excited to start a new chapter of your life. jinyoung didn’t think you were taking in the fact that moving is one of the most stressful things a person can go through.

he didn’t want to rain on your parade, though.

the two of you got settled into your new apartment after a long day of unpacking. jinyoung kissed you as you laid onto your new king sized bed. “im gonna grab takeout, you want your usual?” he asked sweetly, squeezing your hand. you just nodded, squeezing his hand back.

you watched as jinyoung walked out of your shared bedroom. that’s when the dam broke. you were so overwhelmed. you didn’t know how to make warm water happen in your shower, you didn’t have your wifi set up, and you forgot your favorite teddy bear at your moms. you missed teddy and your wifi and your mom.

“hey, i ordered you two egg rolls and they gave us three - hey, baby, are you crying?”

“no,” you replied lamely. “I miss teddy,” you wailed miserably.

“teddy...the...stuffed bear?” he asked.

“i slept with him every night for the past 20 something years.”

“baby...we can get your bear in the morning...,”

“we don’t have netflix set up so how am i supposed to sleep tonight?”

“y/n...,” he chuckled. you frowned harder now that he was laughing at you. “moving isn’t as exciting as it looks. tomorrow, we will fix the wifi, okay? and we can visit your mom and rescue teddy.”

“okay...okay. im sorry, im just a bit overwhelmed,” you confessed.

“its gonna be okay, honey. it’s a lot to take in, i know. but you can hold me instead of teddy, and ill sing you to sleep,” he whispered, the takeout now long forgotten. before you could fall asleep, he pulled his iphone out of his back pocket and pulled you into his chest to take a selfie. “there. now we have a picture of us in our bed for the first time.”

“i love you, you sap.”

even though you called him the sap, the next day you went to the pharmacy to get the photo printed and frame it. when jinyoung came home from the market that day, he eyed the frame on your bed stand, smirking at you.

“oh, so im the sap, hmm?”

youngjae; picking up the tab

it was the first date the two of you had been on since youngjae had been on tour. he told you to get dressed up and that the two of you would go out for a fancy dinner and catch up on everything. this is why you loved him, because while you wanted to hear all about his stories of life and tour abroad, he always wanted to hear about everything that was going at home, to see if you were alright.

youngjae looked dazzling in a black checked suit, while you matched him with a little black dress that made him groan when you stepped out of the bathroom. “can we skip dinner?” he’d ask cheekily. you rolled your eyes at him before kissing him on the cheek. “we aren’t skipping dinner, and we definitely won’t be skipping dessert,” you winked before leading him to the car.

the two of you ate dinner together, him holding your hand and looking at you with stars in his eyes as you told him stories that had happened while he was away. you ordered appetizers, drinks, shared an entrée, and youngjae even ordered you a slice of apple pie for the two of you to share.

“baby, I’m going to go use the restroom,” youngjae said before kissing your hand. “’kay, don’t get mugged, please,” you teased him. he shook his head at your playfulness. you watched as he left before frantically waving your arms at your waitress. she ran over to you, checking if you were alright.

“I just wanted to wonder if I can pick up the cheque really quick? I wanted to pick it up for my boyfriend as a surprise,” you spoke in a hushed tone, making the waitress giggle. she nodded her head before handing it to her. you handed her your credit card, thanking her before your boyfriend had any suspicions of what you were up to.

youngjae came out of the bathroom as soon as the waitress set the cheque down. you were applying your lipstick so you couldn’t snatch it in time. you watched as his pretty brown eyes scanned the receipt, looking confused as ever. “is this a joke? what kind of waitress lets the girlfriend pay?”

“jae,” you giggled. “you don’t always have to pay for dinner. I wanted to treat you…I missed you so much,” you confided, watching his expression from anger into warmth.

“oh, thank you honey, you are so sweet and thoughtful, I love you so much,” you let him wrap his suit jacket around your arms before planting a kiss to your forehead. “but that will be the last time you ever do that.”

“shut up, i like doing nice things for you,” you pouted.

“since you paid for dinner tonight, i have to put out, right?”

he ran to the car before you could slap him in the chest.

bam; his s/o borrowing his clothes

remember how joey never shared his food? well that’s how bam was with his wardrobe. he was very particular about his clothing, not letting people borrow them at all. yugyeom used to steal his clothes just to be petty and piss his best friend off. he had never let past partners borrow his clothes, and nothing was going to change, it wasn’t his fault, it was an obsession. if you were sure of one thing, it was to not steal your boyfriends clothes.

but one day, while he was gone from work, you thought you would take pictures of yourself in only one of his blazers to tease him.

you weren’t expecting him to walk through the door while you were trying to take self timer pictures of yourself.

“baby? what are you doing?” bam asked, laughing as you let out a squeal of surprise.

“i..i wanted to surprise you...,” he tsked, pulling away to look at his blazer. “i know you don’t like me wearing your things..,” you stammered as he circled you.

“you have such pretty things, though, bam,”

“you look so sexy in this,” he purred. “you were trying to get me worked up while im trying to work?”

“u...uhhh,” you couldn’t think coherently with you boyfriend acting so domineering. you gasped as he slid his hand up to your cunt, rubbing your clit in little circles. “bam...please...,” you groaned. 

“keep the blazer on,” he said as you writhed in his grip.

“its gonna get all sweaty though and then you’ll yell at me,” you teased him as you followed him to the bed. 

bam just groaned. “baby, im sorry I haven’t let you borrow my clothes before but you look better in them than me. now, let me fuck you and i promise you can have anything you want in that closet.”

he knew exactly how to shut you up.

yugyeom; his s/o buying him flowers

yugyeom was always so stressed during comeback season. you always scolded him when he forgot to eat, or wasn’t staying hydrated enough, but you were so proud of him. seeing the smile on his face and the way he walked a little taller was so worth it.

he was still busy during comeback season, coming home late after all the videos he had to shoot for publicity.

one night, yugyeom had gotten home around midnight to a bouquet of pink roses and a handwritten note from you. it read; “I am so proud of you, my love. congrats on breath… I can always feel your love,” he blushed and giggled to himself, thinking, “isn’t the guy supposed to buy the girlfriend the flowers?” he wandered into your shared bedroom to see you sprawled into his side, with your book in your hands, a soft snore leaving your lips. he nudged you, not intending to wake you up, he could thank you in the morning. but he did accidentally. “yeom?” you whispered. 

“shh, baby go back to sleep,” he shushed, changing into his pjs. 

“did you like the flowers?” you asked, suddenly awake now. 

“theyre really pretty, baby, but aren’t I supposed to buy you the flowers?” 

you narrowed your eyes at him. “not my boyfriend being a sexist,” 

“yah! y/n stop it, I didn’t mean it that way!! I love them, you remembered I said I love roses,” he was pouting now, pulling you into his chest to spoon you. his voice got quieter now. “no one’s ever remembered my favorite flowers…much less bought them for me,” he paused, kissing the back of your neck before closing his eyes and falling fast asleep.

Jackson:

I think he’d get very deprived of attention very quickly

is defo the type to try to tell you he wants to spend more time with you without directly saying it at first and instead getting a bit clingy or trying to convince you to go out on a date again if you haven’t had one in a while

if everything goes well you’ll end up doing that and have a great time, fulfilling his wish for your attention

but if not, he will get increasingly frustrated and probably want to have a serious talk with you to tell you he really wants to see you more

however, so long as you’re on the same page it won’t come down to that and instead he will signal you with hugs and kisses that he wants to spend more quality time alone with you

Jinyoung:

i feel like he’ll ask for your attention more often than you’d expect him to, though he rarely does so verbally

usually it’ll just be enough for him to be by your side and just peacefully coexist, maybe relaxing and watching a movie together or even just practicing his lines for an upcoming drama while you rest your head in his lap

but sometimes he will want your direct attention, and then he goes full puppy mode

rests his chin on your shoulder and looks up at you with big eyes and a pout on his lips

seriously can you even think about saying no to that...?

Youngjae:

clingy

if he suddenly does every little thing for you that’s a sign he really needs some more of your attention, whether it’s just wanting to sit down and talk to you or if he has more physical needs

he’ll never force you into anything, but if he’s really frustrated he can probably become a bit pushy

don’t try to ignore him or put him off for too long, or one day his frustrations will become too much for him and he’ll just grab you and pull you somewhere he can be alone with you

will be very desperate and tell you he’s not getting enough attention from you

you defo owe him a full day of just lazing around together at home now, but please don’t do this to him again;;

Bambam:

very cute about it at first, but gets petty if you tell him off

like he will try to get your attention by joking around or lightly touching your arm or just being his weird self

best case scenario you give him what he wants

but if he manages to annoy you or you don’t really give a reaction for some other reason, he will give up after a few tries and walk away

don’t expect him to give you any attention once you ask for it next time

acts like he’s pissed at you and tries to ignore you

but you know as soon as you come closer and hug him or kiss him, he will drop the act and just be glad you’re there for him now

Yugyeom:

will keep annoying you until you answer or at least tell him you don’t have time right now

like he will just call out to you over and over again until he finally gets some kind of response

but sometimes, when he’s feeling very needy for attention he will just stand or sit down next to you and hug you

clings to you until you put aside whatever you’re focusing on and direct all your attention to him

Jackson had noticed you long before you’d noticed him. In fact, he’d been living in the area a little longer than you thought he had, and only because he’d taken such care to scope the area out before moving in. He had to be sure there wouldn’t be trouble for him here, and that his contact with Olympus wouldn’t be obstructed in any way. 

He’d first noticed you exiting a coffee shop. The look on your face was so blissful as you took a sip of your drink that he had to go in and try it for himself. 

And just like that, he was hooked — on you and the coffee. 

It wasn’t all about getting to know you at first. After all, he still needed to know the area he’d be living in! But then he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he couldn’t remember the last time a mortal had made him feel the way he did when he looked at you. 

So he just happened to take his daily runs on the same path as you, when he could have chosen any other place. And just happened to be taking you to your favorite coffee shop on your first date.

Yes, he intended it to be a date. He was hoping you would feel the same way by the end of it — and not just because of his godly charm. He was, after all, a supernatural being; if he wanted you, he could have you, but he had better morals than Zeus at least. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d properly flirted with and gotten to know someone — and he decided he wanted to take his time with you.

(Or, well, as much as he could stand to. He had speed built into him, adrenaline always coursing through his veins. Slow, for him, was probably not the same as slow for you.)

“So,” he says, sitting across from you in a corner table. The sun hits you just right, casting a golden halo around your head, and Jackson leans onto his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands as he admires you. “You’ve seen me around?” At his teasing, you startle and it takes a few coughs for you to get your bearings again. 

“I, um— yeah. At the park, and stuff.”

“And stuff?” He repeats, raising one eyebrow. As he watches the expression on your face shift from embarrassment to playful irritation, realizing what he’s getting at, Jackson feels his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could keep this moment in the forefront of his mind forever, the pout on your lips so enticing he can’t help but want to kiss you. It’s shocking to him that he’s already so invested, so lost in your eyes. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eye. 

He realizes, right then and there, you might be more bewitching and dangerous than Aphrodite herself (though he’d never say such a thing in her presence), and he’s in real trouble. And he doesn’t mind that one bit. What’s life without a little danger?

Jackson is the perfect gentleman. He’s always considerate, holding the door open for you and insisting on paying; showing up early, usually with flowers; memorizing your favorite drink at your favorite cafe within the first handful of dates. It’s incredible, really — you’d thought he was just your average charmer at first, but as you get to know him you realize how genuine his charm actually is. Although he’s certainly handsome and playful, the real charm of him lies below the surface in the type of person he is.

Which is why, when he suddenly stops replying to your texts one day when you’re supposed to have a date, it feels very out of character. Jackson is usually the type to be up before dawn, messaging you just as early with pictures of a cute dog he encountered on his run or just asking if you’re ready for your date — he’s never once been late, and you never imagined he would be the type to stand you up without any reason.

And yet, when the time he’s supposed to pick you up comes around, there’s no sign of him. Your texts remain unanswered, calls going to voicemail, and at first you’re more worried than upset. You turn on the news, wondering if there’s been some kind of major accident, but there’s nothing of note that comes up on the traffic report. Slowly, your anxiety turns to aggravation, which eventually fades into self-pity. By the time three hours have passed, you can’t find a reason to keep your makeup on — so you shuffle miserably to the bathroom and wipe away the work you’d done hours before, and then hop in the shower because you can feel the tears coming on and refuse to just sit around crying on the couch. It’s more cathartic to cry in the shower, anyways. 

You continue your pity party by slipping into an Eeyore onesie your friend bought you as a gag gift last year, yanking up the hood for maximum warmth as you make yourself a cup of tea and begin raiding your snack shelf for anything and everything self-indulgent. As you lug all these things into your living room, fully prepared to set up camp on the couch for the next few hours, a loud knock sounds at your door. It’s urgent, but not excessively loud, and you slowly make your way to the door and peer through the peephole—

And there’s Jackson, sweat clinging to his brow, panting like he just finished a marathon. You hate that you can’t even manage to scowl at him when you open the door.

“Y/N!” He greets, looking ecstatic for a moment before the guilt returns to his features, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I’m so, so sorry about today, but I can explain, I promise! But, like, if you never want to see me again, I get it—”

As he rambles, you find yourself stepping aside and opening your door for him. A small smile finds its way onto your face as you interrupt him,

“I’ll hear you out, but only because you look so miserable. Come on.”

You get him a glass of water before settling on the opposite end of the couch from him. Jackson downs half of it in one gulp, thanking you breathlessly before clearing his throat and schooling his expression into one that’s more somber. 

“Okay, I know I said I could explain, but I… it’s going to sound weird, okay?” You furrow your brows in confusion, but nod for him to go on, nonetheless.

“I missed our date and didn’t respond to your messages because I was, um,” he pauses, licks his lips, then continues more softly, “in the underworld. I’m not actually human, I’m, uh, I’m Hermes. The Greek god. You know?”

There aren’t even crickets to fill the silence between you. Jackson stares into your eyes with his earnest, dark ones, and you feel your throat close up a bit. You avert your gaze to hide the tears you can feel welling up.

“Wow,” you scoff, softly. “You know, Jackson, if you didn’t like me you could’ve just said that—”

“I’m serious!” He cries, taking hold of both of your hands. “Just, okay, hold on a second.” Before you can reply, Jackson is pulling his hands away from yours and reaching down to pull off his socks. As you look up at him in confusion, willing yourself to ask him what the hell is going on, you notice that his skin seems to be shimmering slightly and his once dark irises have turned to gold. Without any hesitation, Jackson lifts his leg up, hands clasped behind his knee so his ankle is almost at your eye level.

It’s almost comical, you think. He must be insane, but then you actually look at his ankle in front of you and realize you must be the crazy one.

Because there’s a wing. An honest-to-God, white-feathered wing sprouting out of his ankle on the exterior side. It’s small, but it’s there, and when you tentatively reach out to touch it with the thought that maybe this is just an elaborate prank, it actually flutters.

The next thing you remember is waking up to see Jackson sitting nervously on the floor beside your couch, staring at you intently as he grips tightly onto one of your hands.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes. “Listen, I am so sorry, I’ve never— I didn’t know how to prove it to you but that was really dumb, I’m so sorry—”

“I— that wasn’t a dream?” You squeak, and you notice Jackson’s eyes still have a little gold left in them. It’s answer enough for you, and as you sit up on the couch Jackson gently places a hand against your back, bracing you in case you pass out again. You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long breath. Eventually, you lift your gaze to meet his,

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no cell service in the underworld?” You ask. Relief washes over Jackson’s features, a smile gracing his lips, and neither of you can help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

And that’s how you start dating Jackson, aka Hermes, the messenger of the Greek gods. 

You had been half joking about there being no cell service in the underworld, but it turned out you were right. The results of this were handfuls of missed dates, because Jackson, true to his godly nature, was the type of person who had trouble being patient. Most times he got an assignment from the Big Guys Upstairs and started on his way without even thinking about you or how you might be waiting for him to send you a message. 

You also learned the hard way that time worked differently down there, aka your boyfriend had no concept of it.

It was extremely worrisome at first. More than being frustrated at him disappearing, you were frightened — what if he wasn’t on a supernatural mission but got hit by a car or something? Did he even have emergency contacts? Did he need them?

Dating was confusing, even more so when your boyfriend is a god who sometimes goes radio silent for days at a time. Sometimes you wish there was some Olympian hotline, just so you could call up and ask if he was okay. All you ever wanted, really, was to know that. It didn’t matter to you if he missed dates for something as important as godly work, but was it too much to ask for a text in advance when he got word of a new assignment?

Were you really as insignificant to him as that?

But then Jackson would come home and you’d forgive him with his puppy dog eyes and remind yourself how lucky you were to be with someone like Jackson; not only because he was a god and you were a mortal, but because he was such a doting, perfect boyfriend when he was around. So you pushed any misgivings you had aside for his sake, trying to enjoy all the time you could with him, ignoring how the frustration piled up in the corners of your mind.

It would be wrong to say that Jackson was the only one who had to go away on business from time to time, although you certainly went less often than he did — and your trips always had a general sense of structure. And cell service.

You’d been chosen by your company to go as a representative on a week-long trip to negotiate a contract with a firm in Japan. It was exciting, and quite the opportunity, but it ran you ragged. After spending three hours on a plane and more than that in airports, going through customs and lugging your bags around, you’re more than excited to be back on familiar soil. And even that pales in comparison to the thought of seeing Jackson again. You can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across your features as you imagine running into his arms for the first time in a week — somehow, it feels so much longer than that, but maybe it’s because he was away on his own business until the crack of dawn the morning you left. Those short, meager hours together in bed weren’t nearly enough to get you through a whole business trip. 

The forecast is calling for rain, but thankfully the weather hasn’t turned just yet, although it’s chilly enough to have you longing for your space heater of a boyfriend even more. You pull out your phone to text him that you’re at the departures area, waiting just inside the doors; you know he’ll get concerned if you wait outside.

The message is delivered. Just like the one you sent when your plane finally taxied in over ten minutes ago.

Jackson is the type to respond to messages fast, especially when they’re from you. He’s a little clingy like that, and especially so after you’ve been gone for a while. But as you stand around, watching people cart their luggage out to cars and reunite with their own loved ones, you can’t help but feel increasingly impatient.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. Fifteen. Your phone has been put on low-power mode, sitting at nineteen percent, and you shift the weight of your duffel around on your shoulder to try and ease the ache in your neck. 

In a last ditch effort fueled by irritation, sleep deprivation, and hunger from skipping lunch because everything at the airport is overpriced, you try calling Jackson.

It goes to voicemail. You frown, because you know exactly what that means, and you hate that you aren’t surprised by it at all. A glance out the glass doors shows you that it’s started raining, and you feel your shoulders slump — as soon as you manage to hail a taxi outside, you nearly start crying in the backseat. If the driver notices your foul mood, he doesn’t mention anything; he actually just turns the radio up for you a bit, which you appreciate. You’re in no mood to talk.

The apartment is cold and empty when you get in, meaning your boyfriend probably hasn’t been around for at least a day — he would’ve turned the heat on for you, at least, if he had. You drop your duffel by the shoe rack and trudge into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than a home-cooked meal, even if it’s leftovers—

The fridge is sparse. Any and all leftovers have obviously been consumed by your boyfriend, and with how cold the apartment is yogurt just doesn’t sound appetizing. You shut the door with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the apartment as you dig out a cheap packet of instant ramen and a bowl, shoving it in the microwave. As the mechanical whir fills the otherwise empty apartment, you plug your phone into the extra charger on the kitchen counter.

When it powers up, you find no new messages on your screen, and the ones you’ve sent to Jackson remain unseen. 

You get over it. You always do, especially when you wake up to Jackson cooking you a massive apology breakfast in the kitchen.

It’s a routine. You can’t stay mad at him — in part because you love him, but also because you’re too tired to stay mad at him. If you let every little setback like this piss you off, then the relationship would die. You tell yourself it’s up to you to keep the peace; you agreed to date a god, and so you should’ve expected it.

You try to ignore the ache in your chest when you press your face into his shoulder, allowing him to press apologetic kisses to the crown of your head and smooth down the wrinkles the his shirt you’d slept in. Your anger seeps into the cracks, unseen and for all you care, forgotten.

It’s the perfect evening. You’re clinging to Jackson’s arm as he guides you towards the restaurant your coworker has been hyping up for weeks. You have reservations, and your boyfriend is wearing a suit and keeps telling you how beautiful you look — it’s perfect. 

Friday nights are good date nights, and because of that the restaurant is extremely crowded. You’re glad you thought ahead to get a reservation for you and Jackson, and gaze around the warmly-lit establishment in childlike wonder. Jackson holds your hand across the table, using the other to peruse the menu. After a few minutes of doing the same, you lift your eyes from the page to your boyfriend’s handsome face.

“What are you thinking?” You ask, folding your own menu and setting it aside. 

“Your coworker said their pasta was good, right?” You nod, listening to Jackson as he discusses the two options he’s stuck between, and when he starts getting pouty over the decision you giggle and squeeze his hand.

“How about you get one and I get the other, and we can split?” His eyes light up at your suggestion. He lifts your hand from the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles, beaming,

“This is why I love you.” 

“Because I share food with you?” You ask, laughing, and Jackson shakes his head, smiling gently at you from across the table. His skin almost glows in the warm golden lighting. 

“No, because—”

A familiar ringtone fills the air between you, and Jackson leans back in his seat. His hand slips from your without even a moment’s hesitation as he pulls his phone from his pocket, answering it without even apologizing to you. You swallow hard, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

Only a few seconds later, his chair is pushed back and he’s standing beside you.

“I have to go,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t wait up, okay? Enjoy the dinner.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks as Jackson leaves the restaurant. You can’t even bring yourself to watch him go, just listening to his footsteps until they disappear below the murmurs around you. 

“Is something wrong?” The waiter asks. You shoot him a weak smile, feeling unbearably cold all of a sudden. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, but I’ll need to get the orders to-go. Something has come up.” You’re grateful that the waiter merely nods and takes down your order, saying nothing more than is necessary. The guy even packs up some breadsticks for you, since you hadn’t even gotten that far, and within twenty minutes you’re walking alone down the sidewalk you’d just walked up with Jackson not even an hour before. There are people all around you, but somehow all you can hear is the sound of your solitary feet hitting the pavement as you make your way to the apartment.

It was supposed to be a perfect evening. You’d go out to dinner and Jackson would keep telling you how good you looked, and you’d come home and bask in each other for as long as you wanted. It would’ve been a blissful start to the weekend — but now here you are, standing in the doorway with a plastic bag dangling from your wrist.

You don’t bother to reheat your food. You shove Jackson’s box in the fridge and drop to the carpet in your living room, putting on some dumb reality show to try and numb your brain to the waves of loneliness and shame you feel rolling over you. You eat all the breadsticks by yourself, but you still end up leaving some of your pasta for Jackson to try later.

Like many of the nights you spend without Jackson, you end up falling asleep on the couch. Sometimes it’s hard to sleep in a bed without him.

You wake up to an empty apartment. You drag yourself off the couch and into the kitchen to wash your dishes from the night before. It sucks being without Jackson, sucks even more that you still feel embarrassed about the night before at that wonderful restaurant, but you know that at least the apartment will look nice when he comes back. Before you can start overthinking, you start a pot of coffee and begin spraying down the counters. The busier your body is, the less time you have to think.

Saturday passes in a whirlwind of cleaning supplies and music turned up high so you don’t have to hear yourself think. Sunday drags along, with you desperately thinking of errands to run and completing them in no time at all. You spend the afternoon binge-watching a drama, and that night when you open the fridge you’re confronted once again by Jackson’s leftovers on the glass shelf.

You avert your gaze and pull out the leftovers of your own pasta, which you’d initially intended for him. It may have been a petty thing to do, really, but you didn’t care much about if he thought you were being petty. He wouldn’t dare to bring it up anyways. The two of you never talked about things that upset you, especially not right after he came home from a trip to the underworld. You manage to fall asleep alone in bed this time.

Monday dawns with no sign of your boyfriend, and you try to ease the worry in your heart, but nothing except for seeing him could possibly make you feel any better. You go through work on autopilot, wishing you could just get over this already. It isn’t like it’s anything new, anyways.

You eat his leftovers that night, because he’s nowhere to be seen and you can’t stand to see it go to waste. It tastes like ashes in your mouth.

He finally comes back on Wednesday night. You should be asleep, but you just couldn’t get your mind to stop running in circles, so you trudged back into the living room and sat down to watch some mindless TV with a cup of tea. It almost works, maybe, except that the clicking of the front door unlocking snaps you out of your half-asleep state.

The two of you rarely fight, but this time you can’t help it. The moment he walks in from the entryway, you feel the annoyance and rage of the past two years bubbling to the surface, unable to be contained.

“Hey,” he greets, sounding tired but not unhappy. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and you hardly even blink, eyes still focused on the television. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just moves towards the kitchen and somehow that makes you even angrier. You clench your jaw, the words coming out sharp as you hear him rifling around in the drawer for a set of chopsticks,

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” The rifling doesn’t stop, like he doesn’t even notice the change in your tone. Is he even around enough to notice something so small anymore?

“What do you mean?” He asks, stuffing some noodles into his mouth. You turn your cold gaze onto him, finding yourself infuriated with his casual pose, leaning against the doorframe as though he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I don’t know, maybe a sorry for leaving in the middle of our date?” Jackson swallows his bite and sets his bowl down, slowly making his way to the couch. He sits down beside you, turning his knees in towards yours, and slowly pulls both of your hands off of your lap and into his own. He takes a deep breath before speaking,

“Babe, you know I didn’t want to leave—”

“Do I?” You ask, “Do I know that, Jackson? You barely even hesitated to leave me there alone!” You snatch your hands away and stand up abruptly, feeling your head begin to ache with oncoming tears.

“Do you know how— how embarrassing it was to have to tell the waiter I wanted the food to-go? And then to walk all the way back here by myself, and eat by myself?”

Your boyfriend merely stares at you from his seat on the couch, slack-jawed. Suddenly, you find your vision to blurry to see him clearly, and you shake your head.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed.”

It doesn’t surprise either of you when you lock the bedroom door behind you.

Unlike any other fight you’ve ever had with Jackson, the anger from this one seeps into the next day. You avoid him in the morning before work, but you can’t seem to do so once you get home. Jackson is lying on the couch, eyes shut tight, and you shuffle quietly into the kitchen to start making dinner. 

You bring him a bowl to the living room, the sound of the ceramic settling on the wood waking him from his nap. His eyes are bloodshot and bleary; he probably didn’t sleep much last night, if at all, and you almost feel a little bit guilty. Instead, you just avert your eyes when he thanks you for dinner, and begin shoveling the food into your mouth.

But the tension continues building, like a string being pulled taut, and eventually you can’t take the silence anymore. You lick your lips nervously and set your bowl on the counter, staring at the traces of sauce left on the inside.

“So,” you start, voice small. “Are we gonna talk about it?

Jackson groans. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub his face with his hands, keeping them over his eyes for a moment longer as he huffs a long breath out of his nose.

“Can’t it wait, Y/N? I’m exhausted.” Again, you almost pity him — but then, for a moment, you pity yourself as well. Where has he been when you’re exhausted, when you need him? Your mind goes back to standing in departures, waiting for a call that never came, and your blood runs hot.

“No, it can’t wait, Jackson,” you reply coldly. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘not anymore’? I’m just asking for one night—”

“You can’t promise that!” You interrupt. “You can’t promise it will only be one night! I want— I need to talk about this before you leave again, or I might really not be able to do this anymore.” At that, Jackson’s posture stiffens. He lifts his face from his hands and turns to look at you, panic evident in his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what I said! I can’t wait around for you forever,” you snap, and Jackson finds himself speechless. Suddenly, all the anger that had wound your muscles tight like a spring snaps, leaving your shoulders sagging, your expression hollow,

“I don’t have forever, Jackson.”

His heart constricts, his throat tightening along with it. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and you simply stare him down in the silence of the apartment. Jackson wants nothing more than to take you into his arms and smother you with his apologies, prove his love to you, but the familiar chime sounds from the watch on his wrist. 

“I— Y/N, you know… I can’t just…” 

Normally, after an argument like this, you’d scoff. This time, there are no snide remarks, only a tired look in your eyes where the smile doesn’t reach. You jerk your chin slightly towards the front door. 

“Go on, then,” you say. It’s as he slips out the door he hears something that makes his heart drop: 

“Hermes.”

In his younger years, it had seemed like a cool thing to be the only god allowed to come and go from the underworld as he pleased. The thing is, as with anything else, it tends to lose its luster in the face of monotony. 

This trip had been particularly hellish (pun intended) because Cerberus just needed attention, and needed it right then. April was always the worst for Hades; no matter how many years passed he still pouted relentlessly when Persephone had to leave and would spend the next few months moping. As such, his three-headed dog wasn’t exactly getting the most attention. And who was Jackson to deny Cerberus that? The poor pup didn’t know any better. 

He didn’t have his bearings at first, but once he emerged back into the mortal world he found that it was nighttime. After a moment his watch readjusted to his earthly time: it had been almost a full week since he’d left. 

Meaning it had been almost a full week since your fight. 

Thinking back on it, Jackson finds himself filled with shame. You were right, of course — he doesn’t have the best work-life balance, mostly because he’s never needed to. He had never considered bringing a mortal into his life, and even when he asked you to be with him he selfishly pushed your needs and feelings aside in order to do his job. When was the last time he’d really heard you out? When was the last time he did something nice for you, even asked you about your life or what you needed or how you were doing? 

How was it that he had all the time in the world and then some, and yet he couldn’t make any for you? 

On his way back to your apartment, he stops by the one convenience store still open and buys as many of your favorite candy bars as he could. The cashier gives him a weird look, but all he can think about is how he’s going to apologize when he inevitably wakes you from your slumber. 

A feeling overtakes him as he walks up the stairs in your building. A sudden onslaught of nerves, unusual for him considering his outgoing nature. It causes him to pick up the pace, going two steps at a time up to your floor until finally he bursts out into the hallway, feeling as though he can barely breathe from the tightness in his chest. 

He fishes the spare key out of his pocket. It doesn’t fit the lock. At the moment, all he can do is scoff at how petty that is of you, to change the locks on him — especially when he doesn’t need a key to get through a door. 

But then he enters the apartment. 

It’s empty. Your shoes aren’t by the door, your furniture is gone. There are indents from your couch legs still in the living room carpet, but the kitchen as spotless and so are all the walls, he realizes, as he stumbles through the hall in a sudden haze. 

There’s nothing. Not in the medicine cabinet, not in the closet where you keep your towels— even the scent of you seems to be fading and Jackson suddenly finds himself weak in the knees, leaning heavily on the doorframe to your bedroom so he doesn’t fall to the floor. 

The moonlight through the window pours straight onto the center of the floor, unobstructed in the absence of your bed. 

Jackson forces himself through to your en-suite bathroom, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, his pulse racing. He stares down into the white bowl of the sink, willing his vision to become clear once again. 

Slowly, his gaze raises up to meet the eyes of his reflection. His eternally young face stares back at him, once a point of pride, now only a crushing reminder of the last words of your argument. I don’t have forever. 

“What good is forever without you?” He asks, although he knows you aren’t there to hear him. You didn’t leave even the faintest trace of yourself. Jackson allows a handful of hot tears to run down his face before turning and making his way out of the apartment. As he pulls the door shut behind him, he prepares to do what he does best—

“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. It’s my first time on a blind date.”, you smiled nervously, “I’m Y/N.” and you hold out your hand.

I shook it, “I’m Jinyoung.”

“Nice to meet you.”, your eyes sparkle as they met mine. You blushed and quickly turned to look around the room. “I had to search for this place and it looks amazing.”

“It does. I’m actually friends with the owner.”

“Really? Then it’s probably why you picked this place.”, and then you lowered your head closer to mine and whispered, “It’s quite unfair though, you got the homecourt advantage.”

I couldn’t hide my lips from curving from ear to ear, “Would you forgive me if in turn, you’ll get to eat one of the most delicious pad thai in the country?”

“We’ll see.”, you responded. Your smile more confident now than when I first saw you.

We ordered food and drinks and chatted for hours. I didn’t know what came over me when I decided to play along as your ‘blind date’. At first, I thought I was just feeding my curiosity as I learned a few things about you. Like how it was already a year since your last relationship. And that you weren’t really looking for someone right now. That you’re happy with your career and you have a puppy at home to take care of. How you met your friend a few days ago after a long time and suggested to hook you up on a blind date and you tried to refuse. But your friend insisted, telling you, you’ll be dating “the one” which how you wound up here.

 “So, have you?”, I asked as we walked out the door of the establishment.

“Have I what?”, you asked back, tucking some of your stray hairs behind your ear.

“For this blind date, do you think you have dated ‘the one’?”, I asked, quite assured of myself.

You blushed again, lowering your head trying to hide it. But I see you smiling. “I don’t think I can label anyone ‘the one’ after just one date.”, and then your phone rang. You checked the caller and picked it up. While looking straight at me, you greeted on your phone, “Hello, Momo.”

While your friend speaks on the other line, your eyebrows curled, your mouth ajar slightly. After awhile, you turned your back from me and continued talking to your friend on the phone. Your conversation barely audible to me.

After putting your phone back to your pocket, you turned around to face me again. Still with a confused look on your face.

“So, here’s a funny story,” you began. “Momo apologized to me. She said she’s sorry I got stood up by my date.”, you raised an eyebrow at me waiting for me to explain myself.

“Ah, did she?”, I was flustered. I shifted as I stand, my hands went to my nape and I was trying to charm my way out by smiling, guilty as charged. “I planned to tell you about that. Uhm, that I wasn’t your date but...”

“But?”

“But… I thought you were so cute and I got curious. I wanted to get to know you and so far… ”, I paused and as the words form out of my mouth, the realization hit me. “I like you.”

You were speechless for a bit, your mouth opened to speak and then decided not to. You then returned a smiled to me, “I like you, too.”

Feeling relieved, I dared to ask, “So does that mean I can have another date with you?”

“Give me one reason why I should.”, you say each word with a step closer to me. Your eyes never leaving mine.