#i am queue

“Hey Jungkook! Do you maybe want to get some lunch with me?” You offer, breathing deeply to calm your nerves. The worst he can say is no, so there wasn’t that much of a reason to be worried, right? Had you not been trying to ask him out on a date, you wouldn’t be that worried, but you were, and your stress was through the roof as you try to sound relaxed.

Startled at first, he turns to you, ready to agree, until his smile falls, “I’d love to, but I’m packed. Sorry [Y/N],” giving you an apologetic look as he elaborates, “I have something going on all of this week, dance practice, a recording session, then I have a couple dates with some girls I met, and workouts after that… I’m sorry [Y/N].”

You wave your hands in front of you to halt his apologies, squeezing your eyes shut as to stop the embarrassment increasing, “No, no, it's fine! I should've known you'd be busy..." You mumble the last couple of words, sighing and putting up your best fake smile, "Don't overwork yourself!"

He smiles at your understanding words, waving, “I won’t, don’t worry [Y/N]! Maybe you could go for lunch with Taehyung, he’s free today!” and walking out the door.

“Yeah…”

“Wow, am I that much of a downgrade?” Taehyung pipes in from the other room, a playful smile on his lips. You jump at his deep voice, surprised. He plops himself onto the room couch, and pats the spot besides him, beckoning you to sit.

You squeeze between him and the couch arm, leaning on him with a pout, “I failed… again. I didn’t even start with the confession like I was supposed to…” disappointment oozing from your tone. You’d planned the whole thing out, even asking Taehyung and Namjoon for help, and rehearsed it countless times, only to completely botch the entire thing.

After a moment of silence, Taehyung decides to pitch his idea, “I could tell him for you,” doing his best to not let his voice waver. 

Whining, you subconsciously swing his hand around, lightly slapping your face by accident. Of course, you wanted to confess to Jungkook, but since his oddly late and recent discovery of his own handsomeness and effect on women, he'd been using it to his advantage-asking girls out left and right. What really ruined your confidence, though, was his choice in girls; they were nothing like you. He picked tall, elegant and sophisticated women-usually women a couple of years older than him or his age. You were, well, short, clumsy and younger than him by more than half a year. It was probably an understatement to say you were crushed. 

Taehyung reads your silence, giving a comforting squeeze to your hand in his larger one, “He doesn’t know what he’s missing [Y/N], Jungkook never notices when a great opportunity is right in front of him,” meaning the words more than you know. 

Taehyung never meant to steal Jungkook’s best friend as his own–what an idiot he’d been friend zoning himself–and he definitely hadn’t planned on falling for you. It happened out of nowhere, after knowing you for years, when one day he felt his heart stop under your gaze. Suddenly, your opinion of him mattered more than everyone else's, he cared more about you than himself, he’d cannonball into the pool of your heart. 

Suddenly, he was in love with you. And even after four years of watching you be in love with Jungkook and loving you in the background, he hadn't crawled out of the hole that he'd fallen into one bit. Still, seeing you utterly in love with one of his best friends was already tough enough for Taehyung. It was even more difficult filling his role as your rock when you always came to him to talk about your crush, and seeing you heartbroken over Jungkook just made it that much more difficult for him to be supportive. How could you not see how he was there, waiting for you to finally see him in the same light as his younger?

He’d always been there for you to lean, cry and scream to, ready to ease your troubles if only for a bit. He’d heard all your complaints, all your tears and even all your compliments meant for Jungkook, and he’d taken them all off your shoulders. While he loved Jungkook like a brother, he was sick of hearing about him. He couldn't help but feel a certain way about him, a crippling jealousy burning in him at the sight of the younger boy. 

----

Taehyung frowns at you as you stare after Jungkook and his date from across the fast-food restaurant Taehyung had taken you to. He had no idea that the Maknae would be there, much less with a date. He wishes he did, so he could have taken you somewhere else instead, “Don’t give up [Y/N], nothing’s worse than a dream left unfulfilled,” gosh, why did he have to keep encouraging you? 

“I've tried everything, Taehyung. I don't think he'll ever feel the same,” you whine exasperated, upset but confident with your resolution, ready to accept you'd never be with him. You shake your head as you cover it with your hands, releasing a stressed breath of air. 

“Not everything, but you do you,” eliciting a chuckle from you with his word choice. 

Sarcasm soaking your tone, you build upon his implication, “What, you mean make him jealous?” laughing at your own joke, slowly quieting when you notice his pursed lips, “Wait, you’re serious? Taehyung, that only works in books and movies, this is real life.”

“Hey, chill! I was only giving a suggestion,” holding his hands up in mock defense, laughing, “Honestly [Y/N], I really think you’re just wasting your time.”

“Rude!”

“I know, I know, but think about it! You haven’t made any kind of progress, and Jungkook’s just getting further out of your reach,” you bite your lip, eyes glazed over as his words sink in. With a sigh, he reaches for your hand, rubbing his thumb over it and ignores the butterflies that flutter at the contact, “I just don’t want you hung up on him, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks Tae,” you murmur, your [E/C] eyes finding Jungkook and his gorgeous date once again. Taehyung was right. You needed to either do something to make the feeling you held mutual, or move on, and at this point, you favored the ladder. Then, in a fit of stress, you groan loudly, running your hands over your face in a way your skin would not be grateful for, “Ugh, I hate being in love!”

Taehyung gives a breathy laugh, whispering under his breath, “Ditto.”

----

“You know, I don’t even miss him that much.”

“That’s because you’ve been texting him nonstop for the past three days,” Taehyung points out, weakening your accomplishment. He tries to look over at your screen, only to have it pulled out of his vision, “What is it you don’t want me to see, hm?” a teasing tone coating his deep voice.

You push his head away, “Nothing!” and continue typing away. 

Taehyung thinks it's amazing how you hadn’t even tried to stick to your resolution, allowing Jungkook to be your sole focus once again the moment he had time for you. If it were Taehyung you wanted, you wouldn’t have to hold on to every interaction with a death grip the way you did for Jungkook.

Texting Jungkook was fun, sending the dankest of dank memes, and sharing dumb videos you both found. As enjoyable as it was, you couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied, knowing if it were Taehyung you were messaging, your conversation would probably be a lot deeper in meaning, or have more interacting than sending a photo and an “lmao” every couple of seconds, or–

You stop yourself in confusion, because where had that come from? You’d never compared either to the other, and Taehyung wasn’t even the one you liked! Taehyung was your amazing, sweet, caring, goofy best friend, and Jungkook was your crush, not the other was around. 

“What’s rolling around that pretty head of yours?” the dark haired boy interrupts, throwing his arm around your shoulder and cuddling into your figure on the sofa. His deep voice startles you, and you make a mental note to find out why your stomach had done somersaults at the sound of it.

Shrugging, you make something up, hoping it was believable enough to spare yourself the embarrassment of explaining how you’d been debating who gave off the most “boyfriend material” vibes. Your phone dings again, pulling you out of your head, and Taehyung swears he sees hearts in your eyes at whatever Jungkook has sent you. He groans. You were so whipped.

With a quiet squeal, you announce your victory, “Jungkook wants to take me to lunch!” hopping out of Taehyung’s grip, missing the way his face falls. “He wants to go out at five, that’s an hour and a half away. Tae, what do I wear?”

He doesn’t want to help you look good for another man, but as your best friend he knows the obligation that comes with the title. You didn’t want him, you wanted Jungkook, yet it was his job to be there for you no matter what. Twisted, wasn’t it? 

When the two of you reach your apartment, he picks out a nice, fitting dress that makes you look beautiful without seeming desperate. Perfect. You can barely get it on, jittering with excitement, and eventually calling Taehyung to help you zip it. You were finally going out with Jungkook, alone–

Taehyung’s phone chimes, Jungkook’s name lighting up the screen with a text. Taehyung glances up to your hand for a second, then checks the message, his face contorting into an expression of sorrow, “He wants me to come with you guys, so he can introduce us to someone. I think he set us up for a double date [Y/N].”

The bright look in your eyes fades immediately, your excited blush and smile disappearing, “Oh. It’s okay, I mean, I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” feeling dumb with your previous assumption. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t ask you out suddenly. He hadn’t insinuated it was a date at all, and you’d jumped to what you wanted it to be. How stupid of you.

You almost expect it when Taehyung envelopes you in his strong, warm arms, providing a type of comfort you associated with him. “I have to get ready,” he murmurs into your ear, giving you one more tight squeeze and releasing you. 

He stares at your disappointed figure once more, biting his lip, thinking of telling you Jungkook wasn’t the one for you, then shakes the thought away. That wasn’t his place, he didn’t get to tell you what to do.

You collapse onto your bed a few moments after you hear the door shut, cuddling yourself in an attempt to recreate the comfort only Taehyung knew how to provide. Why was it that he was always able to bring you peace that not even Jungkook could give you? Your mind goes back to that moment earlier, when you’d been weighing the dateability of Taehyung and Jungkook. It wasn’t a very fair thing to do, but you couldn’t help continuing the thought.

They were both outstandingly good looking, tall, broad and fit, and they were both kind and adorable. Jungkook was ridiculously hilarious, with every stupid gag or meme in his arsenal, always ready to make you laugh–while Taehyung was more sarcastic and accidentally funny, and he always made you comfortable.

You ponder over that last thought a bit longer. Taehyung always managed to make you feel at home, safe and–while you were almost always jittery and uneasy around Jungkook, which was normal, right? Everyone was nervous around their crush! The only difference between you and most people, was that your crush was your former best friend. There hadn’t been any dramatic falling out, you two had just grown apart back in your teens–partly due to his schedule and overseas studying, and partly because of your ever growing feelings for him.

But now you realize, were the two of you ever really best friends? You weren’t so sure as you once again compared him to Taehyung, more specifically, your relationships. You didn’t–and you were sure you never had–know half of what you knew about Taehyung about Jungkook. You had never been able to silently read his face the way you could read Taehyung. And most importantly, you’d never enjoyed his company as much as Taehyung’s.

While there certainly was a time when you would have given your left ear for alone time with Jungkook, it was nothing against the right arm and kneecap you’d give for Tae. 

Stuck in your thoughts, you fail to hear your door click again, continuing your blank stare at your wall until a large hand waves in front of you. The sudden withdrawal from the analysis in your head makes you jump, then smile when you recognize the long, tan fingers attached to your favorite person. 

“You were really concentrated there, you good [Y/N]?” He chuckles, worry barely seeping into his bright tone. You chuckle stiffly, color filling your cheeks at the newfound knowledge that might mean you were in love with Taehyung. 

“Yeah, just… Daydreaming.”

He stares at you like you've said some utter nonsense, then shrugs, “If you say so. By the way, Jungkook also invited Jin and Namjoon, because you know how much they mean to him. I…” He inhales audibly, unsure whether he should voice his thoughts, or spare your feelings. “I think he might be serious about this girl.”

The words stab you, hundreds of tiny needles pickling your heart, and you try not to think about what could have happened if Taehyung got a girlfriend--since everything with him seemed to be more extreme for you. 

“At least he's happy,” you murmur, staring at Taehyung's hand with the sudden urge to hold it. Taehyung wouldn't mind if you did, he liked holding hands, but with the way your heart kept betraying you, you just let your gaze linger. 

Taehyung spots your focused gaze, smiling softly and catching your hand in his. The action startles you and causes your head to shoot up, slightly wide eyes and warmed cheeks in surprise, “Don’t look down while you walk, you might trip,” he plays off coolly, trying not to get flustered at the fact that he’d made you blush. 

You nod, turning your gaze back to the path in front of you, just as the two of you jog down the stairs, hand-in-hand with you dragging Taehyung behind you. When you reach the bottom, you’re slightly winded, laughing as Taehyung—who was entirely unfazed by the short climb down—mimics the walk that everyone dies down the stairs. 

Maybe Jungkook wasn’t the one for you. Maybe Taehyung was all you needed. 

Your suspicions are confirmed a good forty-five minutes later while you’re sat between Taehyung and Namjoon, across from Jungkook, his date Mina and Seokjin. 

You’re almost sick by now, watching all their lovey-dovey smiles and doe eyes directed at one another, paired with rosy cheeks and soft giggles as they recall a fun date they had a while back. It’s cute, natural and painful. Painful for you to see how he looks at her with heart eyes, when he’s never given you more than a friendly glance. It’s painful how you’re sat in front of her, Jungkook to her right and Jin to her left, and you can perfectly see why Jungkook wanted her and not you. 

She was gorgeous, long, thick black hair slightly curled and swept elegantly to the side, flawless fair skin, tall and exceptionally proportioned—absolutely perfect. And from what you’d heard from her, she was just as goofy as Jungkook, except she took care of him the way Jin would, and kept him in line like Namjoon, all while cooing at him with her perfectly smooth voice. 

You were nothing like that. There was no surprise why he didn’t want you–not because you weren’t pretty or funny or amazing–you just weren’t his type. 

The epiphany that you just weren’t the girl for Jungkook made you realize that perhaps, he wasn’t the boy for you. You were almost always uncomfortable in his presence, always trying to outdo yourself and catch his attention, all while being afraid of humiliating yourself. He also had the tendency to push you past your limits when it came to being adventurous, and you’d been on the wrong side of heartbreak dozens of times without him ever intending to hurt you. Maybe you’d just been too blinded by your schoolgirl crush on him to realize it would never work out between you.

A week later you come to the realization that while you may not have been meant for Jungkook, the first boy you’d ever loved and let go of, there was someone else who could most definitely be the one for you. Taehyung always managed to keep you on your toes, yet you were always at peace with yourself and everything else when he was with you. He always knew when to stop, and he was always your shoulder when you needed one. 

And it’s not too long before you realize that perhaps Taehyung was thinking the same as you. He’d always stare when he thought you weren’t looking, and he’d always let his touch linger, you just only notice now that Jungkook isn’t on your mind 25/8. 

But now that you’re prepared to move on, Jungkook asks you out, just the two of you. The flicker of hope in your chest comes back to life, and you’re once again dragging Taehyung to your apartment to help you dress up, “Please Tae! You’ve got, like, the best fashion sense ever!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Yoongi, who decided to tag along instead of staying for dance practice with Hobi, Jin and Namjoon, interjects, focused on his phone as he gets comfortable on your bed.

“Just wear that outfit I got you last month,” Taehyung sighs, unenthusiastic about your “date” with the maknae. Of course, just as you start paying him attention, Jungkook decides to swoop in and steal the spotlight that is your eyes. “I’m sure he’d love to see you in that.”

Yoongi orders you to show him what outfit Taehyung was talking about, looking up momentarily before you enter the bathroom to change. 

Pulling on the jeans, you struggle a little to button them together, breathing heavily once you've finally done it. It wasn't anything special in looks, but it was really close to your heart, considering Taehyung had gone out and bought it all on his own for you. A loose navy tee and some lightly bleached blue jeans, just your style. Not fancy, yet it managed to fit you just right, accentuating only where you wanted it to while managing to be the most comfortable set of clothes you'd ever worn. 

Gulping thickly upon seeing you, Taehyung wonders how you somehow got even more perfect. All beautiful and completely oblivious to the things you did to him-to his heart. He'd sue you for the damage you've caused. His chest burns as he remembers, you're wearing this on a date with his best friend, not with him. “You look perfect…”

Your cheeks turn a pinkish color, and you know it’s not just because you didn’t expect the compliment, but because it’s from Taehyung. “Thanks Tae!” you almost have to remind yourself that the outfit, while being from him, was not for him.

“Dang, [Y/N]! You look amazing! Those are new clothes just for me, right?” Jungkook jokes when picks you up,bunny teeth showing as he teases you playfully, “They really do look nice though!”

Flushing red, you thank him, glancing back at Taehyung who's giving you a reassuring nod, waving slowly. He doesn't want you to go. He doesn't want you to confess-at least, not to Jungkook, and he definitely doesn’t want Jungkook confessing to you. He wants you to whip around, run into his chest and start sputtering about how this was all just a joke--a mischievous scandal you planned to make Taehyung jealous all along, instead of the reality that this was all for Jungkook. What he would give.

You decide quickly it's either now or never, gripping the hem of your shirt as you face Jungkook, “Jungkook… I-I,” you take a deep breath, calming your nerves a little, “I really like you.” Two weeks ago, you would’ve said love.

Taken aback by your confession, Jungkook darts his eyes anywhere but at you, biting his lip, “[Y/N], I… I don't feel that way about you…”

Your heart stings a bit, but not nearly as much as you thought it would’ve. You don’t feel like you’ve just been rejected, but rather, like you’ve been set free. It’s relieving and liberating, and you’re surprised when you realize you aren’t at all disappointed to the extent you’d expected to be, “Oh.” 

“Do you still want to watch the movie with me? I understand if you need time,” but you assure him you’re fine. 

The two of you make it through the horror movie you’d picked, barely flinching because of your lack of focus on the silver screen. You didn’t feel like crying, and you weren’t upset, just… numb 

Jungkook drops you off after a quick drive through dinner, holding your wrist and staring at you with his doe eyes, “Hey, we’re cool, right?”

“Of course we are! I just needed to get that off my chest. Don’t worry about it, okay/” you soothe, and it’s kind of awkward how you’re consoling him after he’d “broken your heart”.

When you walk in to see Taehyung sprawled out on your couch, you’re overjoyed, He turns to you, expecting to see your tear-stain cheeks of heartbreak, but instead he’s greeted by your blank face and open arms, your small figure running to hug him. “Did he accept your confession?”

“No, he rejected me,” you sigh, squeezing him tighter.

“You’re so strong, [Y/N]. He doesn't know what he's missing…” pulling you tighter to him so he can comfort you.

“Thanks, Tae,” you pause, feeling the delayed emotions bubble up, “Y’know, I feel really dumb for getting so worked up over nothing.” Your tears building up as he smooths over your hair.

“Don’t say that, you’re incredibly smart, just like you’re unbelievably gorgeous, and so, so kind,” whispering while he starts to sway you side to side and pulls away a bit. “And before you say something like how he would never fall for someone like you, don’t. What would you be saying about my [Y/N], huh?”

You snort, trying to go back to hugging him, but he keeps you at a distance, “That she fell for the wrong guy,” a melancholy giggle after you utter the words that held more truth than they should’ve.

Taehyung nods, “I’ll say.”

“Rude!”

“I'm not joking,” he deadpans, eyes fiery, but still somehow sweet and loving, “If I could bring down a star for you, I'd do it twice. I just don’t know why you keep chasing Jungkook when I’m right here, waiting for you,” his voice fading into a whisper, embarrassed. He just spilled his heart to you, and you were just staring at him, blankly. He should’ve expected that you didn’t like him back, but he’d hoped, “Why can’t you just choose me instead?”

“I want to,” you loosen your arms around him, “I’m just not ready yet,” feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. You liked Taehyung, you were sure, but Jungkook still owned so much of your heart, like he had for so long. You couldn’t just move on from something like that.

“Then I’ll wait for you, whether it’s a week or two years, until you’re ready.”

He didn’t have to wait two years.

► BTS TAGLIST: @imbonibi @fangirl125reader @geniejunn​

Hyunjin was on a mission, an investigative mission. Minho was the suspect, and Hyunjin the detective, and the case was his past. He’d watched him closely, caught the hints. Minho was his biggest lead, and he needed his answers,

“So, where do you live?” He inquired, hands folded in front of his face, curiously. It was his third day under the joint supervision of Han and Minho—mostly Minho as it seemed Jisung was being “babysat” as well.

Minho pays for their meal, shoving his hand in his pocket as he catches up, takeout swinging in a plastic bag beside him, “Out of town.”

Hyunjin nods, eyeing the elder quizzically as he starts texting someone on his phone. Why did he have to be so cryptid? Hyunjin shudders as he wonders if Minho was the hitman he’d seen in his flashback, but pushes the thought away as Han speaks up. “He lives in this pretty big house, but he doesn’t like to talk about how rich he is.”

The blond cocks his head to the side, “Why not?”

Jisung looks to the oldest subtly, before leaning in and whispering to Hyunjin, “Something happened to one of his friends… he doesn’t get along with his family either, so he tries to forget about it. He hasn’t stayed there the past couple months, though.”

The blond nods, suddenly feeling bad for asking. He was curious and suspicious of the raven head, but he had no right to impose and dig up memories he wanted to forget. Hyunjin wished he had the same luxury.

Minho drops his phone to his side, perking up, “Where do you guys want to go?” unaware of the conversation the two boys had just shared about him. Hyunjin almost feels guilty of the gossip.

Jisung jumps excitedly, “Oh, can we go to the cinema? They have this new sci-fi flick, Hyunjin would love it!” Trying to sound as convincing as possible. At Hyunjin’s name, Minho nods, although all the younger two notice is that he said yes. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to get Felix to go, but he’s “too broke for the theater” recently.”

Minho snorts, “Yeah, well I’m cheap, so we’re going to the one Seungmin works at, in the plaza Jeongin works at,” shaking his head as he looks up the movie and reads out showtimes. Finally, they decide on a five o’clock viewing, about four hours from now. “We’ve got three hours to kill, what do you guys say we head to [Y/N]’s place until then?”

The two nod, and Hyunjin stares at the black automobile before entering. Something about it was familiar, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He was still semi-wary of cars, but he usually got in without much hesitation. His stomach twists unpleasantly as he stands in front of the vehicle, until a hand is on his shoulder, shaking him.

“Hey man, are you okay?” The honey-skinned boy wonders, eyes large and concerned for the blond. Jisung got on Hyunjin’s nerves a lot, but he was a caring and lovable friend that he was grateful to share with you.

With a heavy breath, he nods, “I’m good, let’s go,” climbing into the car and turning to the side, thinking to himself.

When they arrive at your apartment, Jisung remembers the food in the car, complaining to himself loudly as he rushes down the stairs. Hyunjin finds it quite comedic, taking a seat on the couch and scrolling through his phone. Honestly, his phone was pretty boring, since he didn’t have any social media, and he thought most YouTubers were too annoying to watch.

Minho pokes his head out the door and looks around, making sure Han wasn’t in earshot yet, then plops himself beside Hyunjin. With a sigh, he starts, “Have you thought about what I told you at the arcade?”

“What? About [Y/N] and I?” Minho nods, and Hyunjin doesn’t feel so bad about his earlier nosiness, “I have. I still don’t see how it’s your business what relationship we have—I don’t see why you’re so interested in what I remember, either.”

Minho groans at the sharpness in his tone, running his hand over his face, stressfully. Hyunjin didn’t understand—he didn’t know, he didn’t remember. “I’m just looking out for you both. Like I said, you’re going to wish you listened to me.”

And just like last time, Jisung returns, and Minho’s back to his sarcastic and comedic ways, “Hey, Mr. Prince, where are the video games?” Hyunjin growls, unamused by the nickname as he finds the games, “Ah, thank you, Your Highness.”

Flustered and already getting worn out, Hyunjin leaves to his room, slamming the door loudly. Jisung stares after him, then at Minho, who was already occupied with the game console. Minho was usually quite caring and nice, but with Hyunjin, he always seemed to tease too much. As for Hyunjin, the boy seemed genuinely uncomfortable and offended by some of the older’s antics, and oddly enough, Jisung could see why. “I think you should lay off the teasing. He seems sensitive, and he obviously doesn’t like the nicknames,” the tanned boy empathizes, feeling bad for the blond but also afraid he was out of line.

The older boy frowns, nodding. He didn’t want Hyunjin not to like him, he just… “Yeah, I guess I’m coming off really mean, huh?” masking his culpability with a half-hearted smile. “Thanks Ji.”

The younger boy smiles, happy with the outcome, and they continue they’re electronic battle against each other happily.

“How was your day?” Hyunjin asks, following you like a puppy as you scavenge for junk food.

You shrug, “As good as it could've been. What about yours?” Popping onto the couch gracefully, Hyunjin doing the same second later.

He rests his head on his palm, staring at you with heart-eyes, “It was fine.” He focuses on the details of you face as you click the TV on, leaning towards you slightly.

“What happened?” You pout, turning to face him as Alien plays in the background. He shrugs, smiling as you shrink into his jacket that you were borrowing. You looked so cute in his clothes, it almost made him feel like you two were together in a normal, domestic way instead of as caretaker and patient. You persist, “C'mon, tell me what's wrong, I'll make it better.”

He doesn't want to burden you, but he'd already let his emotions slip and that meant you weren't going to give up until you figured it out. “Minho likes to call me names… And I don't exactly like them,” mumbling quietly in embarrassment. He was an adult, yet here he was, bugging you with his problems like a child. Not wanting you to worry, he quickly adds, “Don't worry about it, though. I'll deal with it.”

You roll your eyes, brushing his blond lock out of his eyes, “We both know you won't deal with it. It's fine though, because I'll talk to him about it. You've got to voice your feelings, Jinnie.” And his heart skips a beat when you call him that.

Chest thumping loudly under you fingertips, he nods, subconsciously leaking into your hand that combs his hair gently. “Thank you, [Y/N]. I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you, you could never deserve that,” eyes big and sparkly as he gazes at you lovingly—although you think it's with gratefulness.

“Of course, it's my job to watch over you,” and there it is. The indirect, unconscious rejection he always felt. Just as Minho had said, you only thought of him as a patient, not a man or someone you could potentially be interested in.

With that, he pulls away abruptly, his eyes dropping to his lap as he nods dejectedly. He laughs to himself, and mutters out a soft, “Right. Your job.”

“Hey, you know that's not what I meant—” you frown, reaching for his arm. He pulls away from your touch, visibly upset and sad. “Hyunjin, you do know I genuinely care about you, right?”

He nods, eyes focused on the television, filled with depression and loneliness. In this world, this life, he always seemed to feel alone. To feel like a dead body walking and breathing, but not living. It's oddly familiar, and he guesses he felt this way before his “sleep”. “I know. I'm sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, I'm sorry. I should've been more careful with my words. It's my fault.”

He feels himself slipping away.

It's my fault.

My fault.

“It's all your fault!” a man screams, tears cascading down his.face as he grips Hyunjin’s collar, “You did this to my daughter!”

Hyunjin’s too far gone to react, only sobbing drowsily as his own eyes water. It wasn't his fault, right? He didn't mean for this to happen. Was he to blame?

“Hey, back off!” A strong, protective figure growls back, standing tall in front of Hyunjin’s sedated body. “It's not his fault! Stop yelling at him!” the angry man yells some more profanities, which the younger male retorts back to, equally fired up until the staff pushes the father out the room.

“Mr. Lee, we're going to ask you not to yell anymore, and to vacate the room,” a nurse tells him robotically.

“I'm not leaving—”

“We need your assistance in critical care. The girl he came with, we're losing her,” a man's voice booms through the room, and all the doctors and nurses rush out, leaving him and the man behind.

The man turns around, revealing that familiar pointed nose and large eyes, only now his nose is scrunched and, and his eyes are contemplating. “Do you trust me?” Hyunjin blinks groggily, meaning yes, “I have to get you out of here. Those doctors, they're gonna kill you—we have to go now!” He whisper-yells, pulling Hyunjin’s gurney whilst the blond drifts off from the drugs.

He wakes with a sharp breath, no tears, but he's staring at you with eyes like an owl’s. “Hyunjin, are you okay?” You panic, halting your aggressive shaking, “Are you with me?”

He nods, taking deep breaths as you pull him in for a hug, rubbing over his arms and back. The more he sees, the less Minho seems like a threat, and the guiltier he feels for suspecting him. Plus, he knew his identity, and he was withholding that information just so he could stay with you for now. When he thinks about it, he just feels like he's conning all of you at once without knowing. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. Whatever it is, it's not your fault and nobody blames you,” you whisper to him soothingly, running your fingers in his hair. He feels tired and groggy, from both investigating your friend and his memory, and soon enough he’s passed out on your shoulder. You smile, moving him to comfortably lay on the couch and bring him a blanket, watching your movie beside him.

You text Minho, despite your earlier words, and ask him to give Hyunjin a break—not everyone could take his unique humor as easily as you and Jisung managed to. He responds with a simple okay and a promise to be nicer, and that’s good enough for you. That’s what you always liked about Minho, that he was easy to talk to and rational, not to mention caring, helpful, and reliable.

Your stomach turns, and something in your chest doesn’t feel right as you think about how amazing Minho was—and is—while Hyunjin lies beside you. As weird as it sounds, you almost feel like your betraying Hyunjin.

You frown and decide you’ll sort out your feelings another time.

Hyunjin stares at Chan, a question hanging on the tip of his tongue, “When I arrived… was I already in a coma?” Feeling like an awkward teenager having their first adult conversation with their parents.

Chan looks up, thinking, “I think so.”

Hyunjin nods, licking his lips as he debates his next question before telling himself it couldn’t hurt to ask, “Who admitted me? That would be on record, right?” his eyes big with curiosity and anticipation. Chan tells him he has to check that, because his memory might betray him, before snapping his fingers in recognition.

“It was Minho, he said he found you out in the middle of nowhere and had me pull some strings to have you admitted. He also put himself as your emergency contact, if my memory serves me right,” smiling proudly with his answer as he writes something down on his clipboard.

Hyunjin mutters under his breath, “I knew it.”

The older man clicks his pen, looking into Hyunjin’s sharp eyes, “He visited you semi often, not nearly as much as [Y/N] did though. Speaking of which, how are you two? You seemed pretty upset with her last time I saw you.” Genuinely concerned of the relationship between you two.

The blond purses his lips, trying not to blush as he recalls that Chan probably knew of his crush on you, “W-we’re fine. It was just a misunderstanding, but we’re good now,” cursing himself for stuttering. Chan asks if he’s alright, chuckling at his reddening cheeks, to which he gives an embarrassed quiet nod.

The two sit in a mostly comfortable silence as Chan checks off boxes and tests Hyunjin’s reflexes. Hyunjin, as much as he loved Chan, was eager for this to be over. He knew Minho was waiting with you in the waiting room, and he squirmed at the thought of something happening because his check-up appointment was taking too long.

Shifting awkwardly, impatiently watching Chan scribble something down, the taller bites his lip and decides to move the process along, “Can I go now? I don’t want to keep [Y/N] waiting,” alone with Minho, that is. He was sure Minho wouldn’t hurt you, because there was no way that man wasn’t head over heels with the way he looked at you, but that made Hyunjin all the more uneasy. If Minho liked you, then he’d want to keep Hyunjin away, right? Even if they seemed to have been friends before, there was something obviously suspicious about this entire situation.

Chan senses Hyunjin’s impatience, shining a light quickly into each of the patient’s eyes, and nodding. “Say hi to [Y/N] for me, yeah?”

Hyunjin nods, happily bouncing onto his feet and rushing to the waiting room, only to find your presence missing from it. So many people, so many patients, where were you? Had one of these strangers been a serial killer who managed to nab you and not be noticed, due to the densely populated lobby? He’s about to start panicking when a familiar, rough hand holds onto him with a firm yet comforting and concerned grip.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Minho raises his eyebrows, pulling Hyunjin out of his slowly increasing panic—the familiar face calming him down. “Is it [Y/N]? She just had to leave early—for work. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Hyunjin nods, relaxing and standing awkwardly. Sensing the younger’s stiffness, Minho removes his hand, backing up a bit with a tight-lipped smile, “Ready to go?” Wiggling his keys.

Hyunjin feels alright with letting Minho drive, especially after the shorter male had taken him and Han out on the multiple days he’d “watched” him for you. The two ride in silence, until Minho decides to hook up his phone to the aux. He gives Hyunjin a flash of a glance, before punching in a song and turning up the volume slightly.

Hyunjin is curled up to his seatbelt and the car door—as he usually did—avoiding making conversation with the older male. Minho wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought, but that conversation from the first day still had him spooked. Since then, Minho had given him this odd feeling of trust and betrayal at the same time.

He stays comfortably in his thoughts, until the soft melody of the song hits his ears, and it’s like his attention was grabbed. His muscles twitch involuntarily but familiarly to the rhythm, and his mind starts to fog over with vague memories.

“Wow, you’re doing great, man!” Minho grins, encouraging Hyunjin to continue, ‘You were born for this!”

Hyunjin smiles, continuing to absolutely dominate the choreography.

Then he blinks, and he’s in the same dance studio room as last time, Areum sitting at the benches and Minho standing and clapping, “That’s my best friend!”

“Thanks man,” Hyunjin hears himself let out, breathless.

The memory slowly fades into another one, Minho’s worried face decorated with a few stray tears. Hyunjin can hear wheels rolling, and although his vision is blurry and narrowed, he can make out white walls and then a dark street, Minho’s hair bouncing as he runs. “Hang in there, I’m going to get you out of here, buddy. Just stay with me.”

With a drawl, Hyunjin’s voice chokes out, “What’s going on? Where are we going?”

Minho abruptly stops and shoots a quick look over his shoulder, and Hyunjin can see the worry intensify in the older boy’s eyes. The brunet gives Hyunjin a reassuring smile, “Somewhere safe. Don’t worry,” and he lifts him off of what looks like the shape of a gurney, gently placing the mostly limp boy into a black car. “I’ll always take care of you, because that’s what big brothers do.”

Hyunjin nods, muttering a tired “hm,” before dozing back into his medically induced sleep.

When he opens his eyes, he’s ugly crying into his shirt sleeve, wetting the material with tears, snot, and drool all at the same time as he sobs loudly. Minho’s already pulled over, pulling the younger one into a protective hold, and Hyunjin can’t help but replay the last words he remembered once more, “… that’s what big brothers do.”

His mind too clogged with emotion for him to fully register and understand the words, but he feels the understanding of a brotherly friendship between the two of them, and he hugs back. Minho’s body stiffens, and he hides the feeling of sadness he feels at both the younger’s tears and his own pain.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. Calm down,” rubbing a soothing hand on the younger’s back that reminds him of your touch, and his shaking slowly lulls away. “I know you probably wish I was [Y/N] right now, but I’m here for you too,” a lighter tone in his voice as he slowly brings Hyunjin back to his former state of tranquility.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin mumbles, embarrassed for letting Minho see him break down a second time, and tired from all the energy he spent in his crying fit.

The black haired man smiles, patting him gently on the back and restarting the car. He doesn’t start driving until a few minutes later though, giving Hyunjin time to collect himself before he takes off towards the dance studio.

Two days later, he realizes he's really been wrong about Minho all along. The slightly older man was nothing short of caring and loving—Hyunjin supposes that, mixed with his unmatched humor, was what made you so head over heels for him. But regardless of the jealousy and slight discomfort your relationship with Minho brought him, he couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly one of the most amazing people Hyunjin had the pleasure of knowing.

After that breakdown in his car, Hyunjin was finally warming up to Minho, acting less rude and snappy and more obedient and calm towards him. The only two things that put Hyunjin off about him were his relationship to you, and his knowledge of Hyunjin’s past—which he never brought up other than that time at the hospital when he’d hinted at the blond’s last name.

“So, do you want me to make kimchi-jjigae while we wait, or order something from that foreign restaurant down the street?” Minho asks Hyunjin, Han, and Changbin, inspecting your fridge and it’s ingredients carefully.

Changbin pipes up, excited, “That place is mostly meat, right? They’ve got this killer bulgogi…” practically drooling at the thought of the meaty dish.

“How about you, Hyunjin? Are you in the mood for some bibimbap and sashimi?” Minho offers, dialing up the restaurant to order. Hyunjin nods, making the older smile as he turns his attention to Han, the two of them arguing over the best food choice before finally coming to an agreement.

Hyunjin feels bad, knowing that his previous suspicions over Minho were completely false, feeling the guilt of not fully remembering him eat at him. Minho had done nothing but look out for Hyunjin in his memories, and he’d been a jerk and angry with him the entire time he’d been awake. Why was that again?

Oh, right. You.

Hyunjin almost forgot he was in a love triangle, where the triangle was really just a circle around you and Minho, and he was desperately trying to squeeze himself inside while pushing the older out.

As Hyunjin stares at the TV, he can’t help but frown, a prominent sense of responsibility tightening in his chest.

“If it’s not here in twenty minutes, I’m only paying half price, deal?” Minho finishes, hanging up the phone and waltzing over to the couch to sit with the other boys as they wait on you, Chan, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin. Today was another game night, and so they all instinctively decided to gather at your place—it was practically tradition, after all. Chan was a doctor and he was usually late anyway. Seungmin was waiting on Jeongin to finish up his shift, and you were stuck in traffic, a horrible day for Felix to carpool with you, really.

So all Hyunjin’s favorite people—minus Minho who’d recently joined the list (although he wasn’t going to admit that any time soon)—were missing from the room. Sure, Han and Changbin were cool, but Hyunjin was slightly intimidated by Changbin and Jisung tended to get on his nerves (and vice versa).

The room falls quiet, an old 80s thriller that nobody was particularly interested in playing on your flat screen. Hyunjin looks around and thinks, all of them had lives before he woke up six months ago. Lives they could remember. Even with the handful of memories he had, he didn’t feel like he knew the person he used to be. He didn’t remember his motivations or feelings, just stories recorded in his mind.

But, it’s not like he’s an entirely different person or a blank slate anymore. He seemed to have been friendly before, and he still danced, so those things were consistent—not to mention his hairstyle. He was just, different. Reborn. Twice reborn. The first when he’d awoken, and the second was when he’d accepted that not everyone was his enemy.

The assessment makes him feel better, but he still wonders if Minho was waiting for him to wake up one day and remember, waiting for his friend to come back. Nervously, he decides he’s going to find out.

Hyunjin stands, quietly walking, a slight slouch in his back as he tries to look as innocent as possible. He taps Minho, making the older look up at him curiously, “What’s up?” Hyunjin mumbles something about talking in private, and Minho nods, standing and trailing after Hyunjin to his room, “Are you okay?”

Hyunjin nods, his blond locks bouncing gently as he paces, “You brought me to Chan?” his eyes big like a puppy as he stares, waiting for an answer.

Minho keeps his focus on Hyunjin, nodding, “Is that it?”

Hyunjin purses his lips, stepping closer to tower over Minho. He’d recently read an article saying someone is more likely to answer a question if the interrogator is standing, or taller, than them. Time to test the theory, “Why didn’t you tell me you know me?”

Minho blinks three times, his pink lips falling into an “o” shape in surprise. How did Hyunjin know? Nobody else knew their past—they didn’t even know the boy’s surname—how did he find out? “How do you know that? Did your memories come back?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, “You answer first, then I will,” pleased with his mostly believably stern tone. His shoulders straighten, making him look even taller than he was, and he puffs out his chest, trying to look intimidating.

Minho watches his movements carefully, his straight brows furrowing as he analyzes Hyunjin. It was true, he had known him—but he was continuously learning that he did not anymore. This Hyunjin didn’t particularly like him—to his knowledge—and he was trying to find out who Minho’s Hyunjin had been. He wanted to know about Hwang Hyunjin, the long-haired boy who would follow Minho around and call him his big brother, and then would try on his clothes because he wanted to be just like him. “I wanted to protect you.”

And he did. Nothing good would come from Hyunjin being connected to his past.

“How is letting me live without an identity protecting me?” Hyunjin scoffs incredulously, his usually wide and soft eyes narrowed. Even if he thought Minho wasn’t the asshole he originally thought he was, he didn’t fully trust him. Danger comes wearing a smile. “Why did you take me from the first hospital?”

Minho breathes deeply, anxious. He hoped Hyunjin would just, wake up, and know all the answers. Instead, he had to explain everything and relive it all again. “Those doctors did this to you, I was trying to get you away, but I wasn’t quick enough. Your coma was medically-induced—they were going to kill you…” he frowns, feeling the same guilt and pain wash over him from head to toe all over again. “If I told you right away, you would’ve told Chan, and we would’ve both been in big trouble.”

Hyunjin goes silent, staring at the ground. He’s right, he thinks. If he’d known, there’s a good chance he’d be back with his parents, which with what he knew now, didn’t seem like the best thing for him. But Minho had just let him be a blank slate, he didn’t even stick around at the beginning.

Minho frowns at his silence, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You have to understand, I just did what I thought was best for you. Your father had a hitman on you, if they found out you were still around, you’d be dead. You remember me, right? In your memory, I was taking care of you, right?”

Hyunjin stares at Minho, scrutinizing him. He had the same tender yet shielded look in his eyes as he did in all the fragments he’d remembered, the same soft and sharp cheeks, the same nose, and the same comforting tone in his voice that makes Hyunjin trust him. He was a twenty-something year old with no memories or family he was close with, he had nothing to lose by trusting Minho completely. At least nothing other than his relationship with you, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the moment.

With a breath, he nods, “Yeah, you were…” he nods, his lip quivering, “You said you were taking care of me, because that’s what big brothers do.”

Minho nods, “We’re not related, but you’ve always been my little brother, and I’ve always taken care of you,” he pauses. This might be crossing the line, since he wasn’t exactly close to this Hyunjin like he used to be, but he had to warn him. He inhales deeply, “Which is why I’m trying to tell you, don’t fall in love with [Y/N], you’ll both end up hurt.”

At the reminder of Minho’s constant persistence to keep you two apart, Hyunjin’s not feeling so sentimental and emotional anymore. Instead, he looks at Minho suspiciously, eyeing him up and down and examining his appearance. He was lean, built and proportioned perfectly to the point that he looked taller than he was. His dark chocolate brown hair beautifully combed away from his eyes, highlighting the large cocoa-colored orbs, which always managed to look both innocent, mischievous, intimidating and soft all at the same time. He decides they’re both evenly matched enough in looks and personality–besides Minho’s tendency to tease too much.

He knows you like Minho, and vise versa, but he still thinks he has a fighting chance in this battle of love.

“You don’t understand, do you?” the older boy groans at Hyunjin’s conflicted face, placing his strong hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders and shaking him slightly. “It’ll be Areum all over again.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, “How would that happen? Aren’t I safe now? Nobody knows who I am or where I came from, and everyone else thinks I’m dead!” He gets a little too loud at that last part, thanking God that the TV is literally blaring in the living room or his secret would’ve been spilled. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, I promise. It’s just–Chan’s trying to identify you, he’s got you in every missing persons database, and it’s only a matter of time until you get matched or someone recognizes you, Hyunjin. Then you’ll have to take care of it yourself, I can only do so much,” he frowns. “[Y/N] doesn’t deserve to die because you fell in love with her, right?”

Hyunjin wants to cry at even the notion of you dying. It was ridiculous how it wasn’t happening, and his eyes were watering already. If he had to chose between his memories, and you, he’d choose you in a heartbeat. Oh, how he wished that were the choice. He didn’t have that luxury, unfortunately, instead he was stuck with piecing together everything that had led him to this moment.

“… Right,” he reluctantly agrees, his heart aching because he knows what Minho means.

“Honey, I’m home!” your melodic voice booms throughout the house, food, and friends in tow as you trot happily into the house. With a head tilt, you pout, “Where are Hyunjin and Minho?”

Quickly after, the two emerge from the hallway, both smiling brightly as they simultaneously run to greet you. You chuckle when you crash into Minho’s body, and wave excitedly at Hyunjin, “You two have a good day? No fights I’m going to hear about later?”

They shake their heads, disagreeing in sync, and you all chuckle at them, “Good, because I don’t want to fix Minho up again. I feel like Hyunjin could seriously give him a fight if he tried.” Everyone nods at Chan’s remark, except Minho who gives Hyunjin a testing smile.

“Hey, if he’s ever up for it,” he shrugs, waving his fist jokingly, and Hyunjin gets into a mock fighting stance in return, “I’m down to give him a few good punches.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his raised fist down, “Okay, settle down. I swear, you two act like some rowdy brothers sometimes.”

Hyunjin looks to Minho, who seems almost overjoyed with the thought–his eyes shined over with nostalgia. To Minho, they’ve always been–and always will be–brothers. Minho would always want the best for Hyunjin, and only wanted to protect him. He’d gotten Hyunjin this far, so why not listen to him again?

You don’t know of Hyunjin’s resolve, giving him a confused look, “Hey, you alright?”

He nods, “Yeah…” trailing off slowly. He needed to detach from you, and continue to learn more about his old life, and he had to start now. “I’m fine.”

Ping! Ping!

The computer lights up, text filling the screen along with a picture of an all too familiar face. Hwang Hyunjin located. Click for more information…

A shadowed figure presses a button and a printer makes a quiet shushing sound, printing the related documents. The figure bags them, and dials a number, speaking in a deep, rough voice, “We’ve got him, sir.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Yes, we found your son. We’re sending the details right now.”

Hyunjin felt ridiculous using movies to piece together his flashbacks, but it was all he had to work with. He felt dumb and useless as he compared his situation to that of Fifty First Dates, because he was quite obviously not living a romcom. Instead of some ridiculous comedic relief, he had just found out someone had followed his car, then he had crashed, which he could easily blame on a hitman. Had that been his last experience before going down? He touches the scar on his temple, recalling the vivid feeling of blood spilling from it, and decides it doesn't feel too old, so it was most likely right before his coma. It would make sense that the accident had put him in the coma too. And Areum… What happened to her? Did she die? Was she in a coma? Why hadn't they run his plates to find him? There were so many holes in everything, something was terribly wrong here— “So, what’re you thinking about?” You cut into his thoughts, interrupting him with your words. Straightening himself out, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, “Dogs!” semi-relieved that it was believable enough, “I was thinking about dogs.” You nod, plopping onto the couch next to him, “Why?” innocently plopping a chip into your mouth and waiting for a response. You were suspicious since you’ve never seen anybody think about dogs so seriously, but you neglect your instinct and allow him to elaborate. Hyunjin almost felt worried at how gullible you were, but at least his excuse had been enough, “Nothing much… I was just wondering about them…” an awkwardness filling his tone, unable to go into detail on the matter. Instead, he tries to deter the conversation, “What’s up with you?” “Not much, although I think I’m going to start working in the office more,” you drag out the last word, “Which means I’m going to be around less.” Hyunjin straightens at your words, suddenly feeling nervous, “... Oh.” You tilt your head. What was ‘Oh’ supposed to mean? Was he disappointed or indifferent? You wanted it to be the ladder because you were sure Hyunjin and your relationship had passed the indifferent stage. “I'm going to have Minho and the boys pop in to check in on you, though. That sounds alright, right?” He nods. He was nervous, having come to rely on you heavily since the store incident, but he knew he couldn't keep you at home forever. Plus, he wouldn't have to try and be as sneaky about piecing together his past. With his silent agreement, you wear a squared, close-mouthed smile and stand, “Okay then. I'll let my boss know I can start tomorrow then,” rocking awkwardly on your heels as you wait for some response. Hyunjin wasn't necessarily a quiet person, and the odd silence he'd been giving you was starting to worry you. Was he still upset about the hospital? Did he need to talk to Chan about his episode? Almost as if he can sense your stress, Hyunjin turns to smile at you, “Don't worry, I'm alright [Y/N],” reassuring you gently, his eyes forming crescents so you know the grin is genuine. Tomorrow came faster than Hyunjin had hoped. Instead of the calm, relaxed mornings he was used to having with you, he woke up to you scrambling to finish breakfast, giving Han and Minho instructions for what he guesses is how to take care of him. He may not have remembered much embarrassment, but he sure could recall the feeling now. “... just don’t let him use the stove, and make sure he eats before noon.” Minho rolls his eyes playfully, “Yeah, yeah, we’ve got it,” smiling at you with those eyes Hyunjin knew were more than friendly, “Don’t worry [Y/N], we’ll take good care of Sleeping Beauty.” You glare at him a bit for that but laugh afterward because, in all honesty, it was funny—rude, but funny nonetheless. You point to Jisung, “Don’t let him be mopey and make sure Minho isn’t too mean, please?” “Anything for my bestie.” “Sorry, I'm just worried,” With a semi-reassured breath, you set out a final plate of eggs and bacon. To say you were nervous about leaving Hyunjin for so long was an understatement. You hardly left the house most days, and when

you did, you were sure to bring him with you. The thought of something happening to him while you were gone was terrifying, and you were this close to sitting back down and staying when the blond finally speaks up. “Don't stress yourself out [Y/N], I'll be fine,” he smiles at you from the hall, walking up to you, “I'm sure they'll keep me alive anyway.” You want to hug him but resist because you knew he didn't always like the coddling feeling of physical contact. Instead, you opt to beam at him, the apples of your cheeks squishing your face, “I'll see you in seven or so hours then. Bye guys, love you all!” And Hyunjin’s so glad you don't look at him after you say that last bit because he's sure he's redder than the ketchup on his plate. Was the ketchup for the eggs or bacon…? And as soon as you’re out the door, Hyunjin rushes to lock it, checking it twice before rushing back to his room—well, trying to. Before he can make it halfway down the hallway, he’s stopped by the slightly older man he’d proclaimed as his casual enemy. “Where do you think you’re going?” Hyunjin freezes, awkwardly turning around to face him, “To my room…?” His statement comes out as more of a question as he tries to proceed. “Yeah, no,” Minho shakes his head, picking up his keys and jacket, “Us three, we're going out today.”

Hyunjin didn't know what kind of “out” he was expecting, but an old, empty arcade was not it. He gulps, then coughs from the foul smell of the docks, drawing an odd look from a passerby. Jisung groans, waving his hands in front of his nose, “Oh my gosh, I thought you meant the new arcade.” Minho laughs, before pushing the door open, a loud chime ringing as the door knocks against a bell, signaling new customers. “Why would we go to a new arcade when this one is half the price and twice the games?” Han pouts at him. “Plus, Changbin and Jeongin work here. You remember them, right, Hyunjin?” He nods, actually excited to see Jeongin again. They stroll up to the front desk, “Hey! You guys brought Hyunjin!” Jeongin cheers, flashing his pearly whites at the older boy. Hyunjin’s cheeks tint red, flattered that someone was excited to see him, and waves. Minho nods, “Yep, and we were hoping our dear friends could give us a discount so Hyunjin and us could play some games. How about it, Changbin?” Changbin rolls his eyes, before digging in his pocket and pulling a small bag of tokens, and handing them to Minho, “I’m not giving you more than that, so use them wisely,” a warning tone in his voice. Minho rolls his eyes, knowing the muscular softy would hand him another batch if he asked nicely. “Of course. Thanks Bin,” Han smiles sweetly, being tugged away from the counter by Minho. “So are we dividing them up or playing all together?” “Let's play some games together. Plus, I don't think we're supposed to leave Pretty Boy here alone,” Jisung pouts, before following in a light jog—neither of them noticing the almost hurt expression on Hyunjin’s face. Pretty Boy…? What was that supposed to mean? He wishes you were there to explain it to him. “Y’know, ‘cus you're handsome and tall,” Jisung explains, giving Hyunjin an odd look, “You do know that, right?” Hyunjin nods, face flushed in embarrassment. He'd thought it aloud, not in his head. But then he thinks about the tan boys words. For some reason, he doesn't like how the nickname made him seem all looks and height, and no substance—but he holds it in, not wanting to provoke Minho or cause trouble for you. “So, what do you wanna play?” He shrugs hesitantly. He didn't pick much—he didn't want to disappoint anyone with his choices—and honestly, he was hoping you'd waltz in and choose an answer for him. Of course he knows you won't, so he goes with the next best thing: trusting the little voice in his head that sounded strangely like yours to help him decide that a shooting game was something he didn't get to play often—you didn't like the idea of him getting hooked like Felix—so he takes advantage of the situation. Hyunjin was sure he liked arcade games before his coma.

There was no way he didn't love the adrenaline that came with the competition or reaching the goal—just like dancing. He'd played about four shooting games, three Down-the-Clowns and five rounds of a claw machine, but he was still as pumped as the first game. He reaches for the bag of tokens, giddy to see there's still plenty left, and tries again, naturally talented at the stuffed bear claw machine. “Okay, I think that's enough of the claw machine.” Han groans, slapping the machine when he doesn't manage to grab the squirrel plush, “Whatever. The thing’s rigged anyway,” trudging off to the bathroom in dramatic disappointment. Hyunjin laughs at his short figure, grumbling towards the bathroom, “Is he always like this when he loses?” No malice, only pure curiosity in his gleeful tone. Minho nods, “Mhm. I suspect you probably behave the same,” almost teasing Hyunjin. As Han exits his vision, he turns to the tall boy with a less and less mischievous expression, “So, any new memories?” The question startled Hyunjin. He hadn't told anyone other than Chan about his memories, and Minho had never seen one of his episodes. Had Chan been breaking his confidentiality and telling Minho? “[Y/N] told me about your episodes,” he answers Hyunjin’s thoughts, crossing his arms, “Hearing how she described them, I've seen enough movies to recognize a flashback.” Hyunjin stills a bit, clenching his fists shakily. You'd told Minho about them. Why? Had they scared you? Were you afraid of him? His thoughts go back to that first night when he'd practically clawed up your arm, and guilt drenched him from head to toe. “What did she say about them?” “Never mind that. It wasn't anything bad. What I wanted to talk about is what you remember exactly,” he stares at the younger, brown eyes boring into Hyunjin’s, “Tell me what you remember, Hyunjin.” Minho made Hyunjin’s stomach churn in the most unpleasant of ways, filling his being with suspicion and discomfort. He backs away from Minho, dark brows furrowed, confused at him, and he thinks of what kind of response you'd be proud of, “I don't see any good reason that I have to do that,” Well, maybe with a bit less of a standoffish tone would have been praised but he was sure you'd be proud of his ability to stand his ground and making sure he was making himself comfortable. The shorter male sighs, a rough, “You're going to want to,” under his breath. With his catlike eyes, he peers up at Hyunjin, “Just, remember what you and [Y/N] are, despite what she might say. You two are patient and caretaker, nothing more.” Hyunjin wants to punch him for that, but he doesn't have a chance to release his angry thoughts before Jisung reappears. He almost wants to thank the loud male for coming back when he did because Hyunjin was sure you'd give him more than a few ear-fulls if he had actually punched Minho. And as a secret thanks, when Jisung starts complaining about the claw machine difficulty, Hyunjin offers to win something for him, quickly pushing the speculation over his conversation with Minho to the back of his head—unaware of the sharp side eye the oldest was directing right at him. He hopes, for your sake, that Hyunjin thinks about their conversations long and hard, and remembers everything on his own soon. “Geez, why’re you staring like that? You look meaner than Minho…” Han quirks a brow, pushing Hyunjin playfully, as if to get him to loosen up. Hyunjin throws him a delayed smile, giving him the greenlight to play more games. Jisung wastes no time tugging him to a booth for basketball, popping two tokens into his slot then two more into Hyunjin’s as the buzzer rings. The game ends one-hundred fifteen to eighty-five, Han winning by a landslide as Hyunjin can't help but wish you were there to make the situation comfortable again for him. He couldn't shake the uneasiness in his stomach after seeing how quickly Minho managed to switch, and his throat filled with bile as he wondered why he was so interested in Hyunjin’s past. His head splits, and he doesn't notice he's dropped the tokens all

over the floor, shaking and hissing in pain. The air is too thick, his shirt is too hot and the walls are all too close, games too loud. It's all too much, meshing into each other and becoming mud in his brain as he opens his eyes somewhere different. The floor is marbled, a large, black comforter covered bed in the center, the sides decked with dressers, a desk and a medium sized flat screen mounted on the wall. Shelves are decorated with figurines and books, pens, paints and paper stacked messily on the desk, bright colors complimenting all the plain walls and furniture. His eyes move to the window, slowly opening it and looking out, only to see Minho grinning back at him. The older male crawls in, bear hugging the blond and dropping what Hyunjin assumes is a school bag. “Hey! Are you ready to go?” A bright, boyish smile tugging on the older's lips when Hyunjin’s head nods. Then they're sneakily running into a dance studio, changing quickly and joining a few others in one of the rooms, jumping into the choreography. He groans quietly, squeezing his head and staring into Minho’s eyes just as he'd stared at Areum's drawing. He wipes his eyes, picking up the coins slowly and pleading, “Don't tell [Y/N].” Minho and Jisung stare at him quizzically, before turning to each other and nodding their heads, “Okay, we won't,” they agree, pulling him into an upright position and sitting beside him. Han clears his throat, handing Hyunjin a tissue from his carry-on pack, “Are you alright, man?” Hyunjin nods, drying the tears that had yet to spill and leans back on the game’s base. His face was flushed, and his throat felt tight. He was embarrassed. Now not only had your friends known about his episodes, but they'd seen one for themselves up close. Hiding his fluffy head in his arms, he mumbles shakily, “I'm sorry.” “For what?” He shakes his head, bringing his knees to his chest and wishing he could just disappear, “I didn't mean to worry you guys,” which makes Minho scoff. “It's not like you did it on purpose, don't apologize,” he scolded sternly, but there's something softer in his voice, that makes Hyunjin think more about the flashback. Minho was his friend, yet he hadn't explicitly told him anything and in all honesty, he didn't seem to like Hyunjin much. Trying not to give himself a headache, Hyunjin pushes away his thoughts—they weren't for now when he couldn't analyze them correctly anyway—and nods gently, sniffing. The air around them becomes awkward and silent, and Hyunjin’s glad the games are so loud, because otherwise he'd have to explain himself to Jeongin and Changbin too. After thinking for a moment, Jisung decides he wants a bit more of an explanation, “Why can't we tell [Y/N]?” “Because I don't want to make her worry,” and that's enough for the youngest to nod in understanding. You may have been his age, but everyone knew you were the mother of your group, which was probably why Chan chose you to take care of Hyunjin. If he told you about this happening while you were out at work, there was a good chance you'd stop going to the office in a heartbeat and never allow Hyunjin out of your sight, which wouldn't be great for either of you. With another uneven but steadier breath, Hyunjin picks his head up, “Can we play Dance Dance Revolution?”

“Have you all eaten? Ji, what the heck? It's almost noon, find something healthy around you quick—and make sure Hyunjin’s food doesn't have any eggplant or he won't eat it—” you gasp, offended, “I'm not acting like his mom! Ugh, just make sure none of you starve or die, or I'll kill you. Okay, love you.” You groan as you rub your temples, tucking your phone in your pocket for less than a second before you pull it out again, dialing Hyunjin, “I'm pretty sure Han didn't tell you guys what I said, so I'm telling you. Hyunjin please eat something within the next half-hour and please, please don't die. Thank you and see you at home.” You're about to text Minho, but you stop when you hear snickering behind you, turning and glaring at Felix from your desk, “What's so funny Lix?”

“You do sound like his mom,” His freckled cheeks pushing upwards against his eyes and his deep voice chuckles. You puff out your cheeks, still death-staring the Australian, “Hey, don't make that face, you'll get wrinkles.” You stick your tongue out at him, before turning back to your desk. Disappointed with the minimal work you'd completed throughout the entire day. You had tried to focus, every trick from gum to music, but you couldn't seem to focus. “Are you okay?” Felix asks more tenderly, a genuine worry in his eyes at your distressed figure. You nod awkwardly, shaking your head both yes and no, drawing a laugh from Felix when you reach for your phone again, “[Y/N], I'm sure he's fine. It's almost like you've forgotten how to function without him.” His words draw another's attention, “Without who? Does [Y/N] have a boyfriend?” An excited, girlish giggle escaping your close coworker. “Not yet, unfortunately,” Felix informs her, smirking at your beet red face, “Although she's definitely fond of a certain someone—well, two someones—” You whack him, making him stop your embarrassment and chuckling, “Don't listen to him. I'm just worried about my roommate…” Trying to convince yourself more than her. She nods and leaves, and you're stuck with your thoughts. You knew Hyunjin was a reason you couldn't focus, but had you seriously stopped functioning because he wasn't with you? Well, you had been temporarily only working from home—thank goodness for your flexible job—and you hadn't really been away from the blond for this long since that time he kicked you out of his dance practice because he was embarrassed, and you didn't know what to do then either. You groan when you realize you had, infact, hardwired your brain to always be worrying about Hyunjin. Felix, as if reading your thoughts, places a hand on your shoulder, patting it lightly as if to say, “Mhm,” with the most obnoxiously drawn out syllables possible. Cradling your head in one of your palms, you begin to reread the document laid out before you, marking off each box lazily as you wonder how to get out of this rut. Hyunjin didn't think you were overbearing, did he? It wasn't like you were always over his shoulder or anything, right? Making sure he was fed and healthy was what you were supposed to do! Oh no, you shuddered, I do sound like his mom.

“I thought you said you liked horror films?” Minho stares at his terrified counterpart, hands on his hips, as he stares at the shivering duo in disbelief. “I did! Just because I like them doesn't mean I'm not scared of them!” Shrieking as he hides his face under the blanket he was sharing with Hyunjin, “It's so predictable but creepy at the same time...” Hyunjin peaks through his fingers, chewing his lip as he gawks at the screen in horror, “Oh my gosh, please turn it off! No, don't! Just—oh my goodness, why is it so nerve-wracking!” The two of them were watching a newer movie Han had recently found on a bootleg movie site, after he'd insisted on watching it because “horror movies are sick!” and he was too broke to wait until it was taken down and having to buy it himself. After about fifteen minutes, Minho wished he'd said no because these boys could scream. You laugh through the door, knocking for Minho to let you in, as you hear them scream at what you presume is a jump scare. Waltzing in, you open your arms at Minho, “Honey, I'm home!” Doing your best working husband impression as he hugs you loosely and affectionately, impersonating a tired wife. “Sweetheart! Thank goodness you're home! The children have been a handful,” an odd accent to mimic old sitcom female characters. At your giggle, he beams and releases you. Hyunjin is eager to say hi, but hesitates. He loved your hugs, but they made him feel weak and vulnerable—especially now because as he thinks about it, you usually hugged him when he was weak and vulnerable. Coincidence? He thinks not. Plus, it wasn't like he was willing to make the first move, so he instead just hopes you decide to engulf him in a hug like Minho’s,

lighthearted and warm. Instead, he opts to awkwardly wave at you, before you pull his wrist and hug his side loosely, oblivious to how his arms try to not-so-subtly flex under your touch. Minho may not have been Chan or Changbin, but the man was fit, and Hyunjin wasn't very keen on the fact that you probably liked feeling Minho’s muscles now and then. “How was your day?” You ask him, pulling away and brushing a few stray hairs behind his ear, making him flush. As the two of you sit on the couch beside each other, Hyunjin stutters to respond, cursing himself in embarrassment when Jisung raises a knowing brow at him, smirking. Remembering the incident earlier, he decides to leave it out completely, as not to give you any sort of reason to worry, “I-it was f-fine,” cursing under his breath when he stutters unconfidently, pull yourself together Hyunjin. He wonders if he was this awkward before the coma, which brings his mind back to his earlier conversation with Minho. “You two are patient and caretaker, nothing more.” He wondered why the older was so adamant on making him feel so… unwanted. It sounded childish as he thought about it, but that was a mean thing to say. The words stung even now as he recalled how you'd so casually greeted Minho while you seemed so formal with him. Were you two really not friends? Snap. Snap, snap. He blinks, seeing your [S/C] hands snapping repeatedly in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts, “... Hyunjin..? Earth to Hyunjin?” “Sorry!” He squeaks, blushing. What was wrong with him today? He felt like the female lead in a certain drama he'd been watching with you recently—always flustered and overthinking the little things. “How was your day?” You shrug, using odd hand gestures and muttering “eh”. Which makes him tilt his head in confusion, only to be brushed off by your waving hand. You didn't really feel like explaining how you accidentally reprogrammed yourself to revolve around Hyunjin’s well-being, especially not in front of Jisung—although you doubted he was paying your conversation any attention with the way he was staring at the TV with such intensity and frightfulness. He nods, awkwardly rubbing his hands over his clothed thighs, trying to refocus on anything other than your beautiful self next to him. You were pretty, which he already knew, but he never understood how gorgeous you were until now—a white button up neatly tucked into your dark pencil skirt, accentuating all your best qualities from your figure to your skin and hair. His mouth gaped slightly at the sight, you were stunning. He only ogles you a little while longer, before something in the movie catches his attention and you waltz off to Minho for a conversation. Unsurprising yet disappointing, Hyunjin thinks as he sees you two whispering and laughing at each other. He wishes the two of you had more conversations like that, just the two of you, goofing off together while stealing loving glances at each other—yes, he'd ignore the fact that you obviously liked Minho and continued his fantasy. Soon, his mind drifts from the events in the movie and real life. Minho must've had a reason to try and push you two apart (he still hadn't processed today's earlier events to be honest), at least he wanted to believe that. He was sure you weren’t friends with some killer-yandere-sociopath who'd followed Hyunjin from his rich life into this one, and, even if he didn’t like him, Minho was reasonable. He tapped his chin, why did Minho want Hyunjin to remember so badly, when he could just tell him? He almost seemed to want Hyunjin to remember more than Hyunjin did himself. Hwang. The name pops back into Hyunjin’s mind, clear as day. He throws a few glances around, making sure nobody was watching him as he pulls out his cell, typing quickly, Hwang Hyunjin. His breath catches in his throat as the results fill his screen, countless articles popping up. ‘Hwang Hyunjin missing’ ‘Hwang heir missing’ ‘Mr. And Ms. Hwang call off search for missing son’ ‘Hwang Hyunjin missing from hospital’ He reads through the confusing headlines, rapidly clicking into and out of articles until he lands on one, “Hwang Hyunjin crashes and goes missing. Suspected kidnap…” Whispering to himself as he wonders how he ended up missing after being found.

His eyes dart from you to Minho, and back. Was he in danger? And more importantly, were you?

Breathing deeply, he nods, “I’ll join you guys.”

Blinking at him in amazement, you stutter, “O-oh, that’s great! Chan is coming along too! He’s friends with Changbin and Minho,” a smile growing on your face as you process his words better. “You don't have to wear anything fancy! I have a feeling you’ll get along with them pretty well—just don’t piss off Changbin or Jisung!”

He nods, his eyes turning to crescents as his mood lifts even higher, mouth quirked upward. Wiping his hands on his pants, he lifts himself from the couch, nervously saying bye and crawling back into his room, shutting the door and lowering himself against it, fear taking over his being as he thought about later tonight.

Would they hate him? What if he wasn’t funny or charismatic enough? Maybe he had a horrible fashion sense and you nor Chan had the heart to tell him? Your friends were still pissed at him for his previous behavior, weren’t they?

Shaking his head, he tries not to think about it. He had his charms, beneath his polished exterior. He could carry a tune, and dance decently; he had an interesting personality in his opinion, to say the least. “We’re going to be okay Hyunjin…” Repeating in his champagne head like a mantra, “We’ll make a good first impression… second impression to some, and they’ll like us…”

Before he’d even had enough time to shower, time had caught up with him, less than ten minutes before your “esteemed” guest would arrive.

“Hyunjin! Are you ready?” You knock, leaning your ear against the door. You try and stifle your laughter as he knocks around his room, fabric shuffling as you assumed he rushed to change. “Hyunjin?”

He yells back a quick “one second!”, before opening the door, crashing into you, “Sorry, are they here yet?” panic seeping into his voice as he glanced over your shoulder, his eyes darting between you and the living room.

You nod, waving for him to follow you. There sat Changbin, then Jisung, Minho, and Chan. Besides them, three faces Hyunjin didn’t recognize. Noticing his confusion, you pipe up, gesturing to the other three, “This is Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin, my friends from University that I didn’t meet through Jisung. I think you’ll get along with them really well!” the cheer in your voice giving Hyunjin hope that you may be right.

“Hi, I’m Felix!” the white-haired boy smiles, his pronunciation unique to what Hyunjin was used to hearing, but that made it all the more endearing, mixed with his sweet eyes and adorable freckles—his soft features had been one of the first things that caught your eye, leading to you asking him out and kindly being rejected, but eventually becoming good friends instead.

“Hi… My name’s Hyunjin…”

“Nice to meet you, Hyunjin, mine is Seungmin. All three of us are twenty years old. From what I heard about you from [Y/N], you’re somewhere around our age,” the puppy-like boy smiles, his tone both welcoming and serious, almost like what he imagined a teacher’s pet or class president to behave like.

Shaking the titian-head, Hyunjin turns to the last boy, his fox-like eyes and slight resemblance to Hyunjin attracting the blond’s attention, “And you're Jeongin? I recognize you from a picture [Y/N] showed me of when you bleached your hair,” his voice friendlier and more excited than you’d ever heard.

The youngest nods, his grin stretching across his face and he hides a laugh. Hyunjin twinkles, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable around the group. It wasn't like the nervousness he’d felt on the street where it seemed all eyes were glued on him, but inviting and warm, like if they wanted him there, having fun with the rest of them.

Laughing, eating and generally, enjoying themselves, Hyunjin had never felt so comfortable. He’d apologized to Changbin and Jisung personally for his past actions towards you and them. They’d accepted, albeit hesitantly, but swore to be good friends from then on. Felix had taught him some Australian slang words—after explaining his life before Korea. Jeongin had watched a few mukbang videos with him, then recommended a few channels he loved. Seungmin and himself had teased the others lightly about being the tallest before Changbin stood on the couch—much to your dissatisfaction—claiming he was the tallest with his sudden “growth spurt” leaving him at seven-foot-four (213 cm).

The only one who rubbed Hyunjin the wrong way was Minho. Sure, he'd seen him before, but that was all the reason to be suspicious of him. You were supposedly Jisung’s good friend and only brought Minho around because of manners—but then why were the two of you always separated from the circle, always a bit too close for (his) comfort? Even now, with a group of nine—including you—in your apartment, Hyunjin still found you sitting on the couch behind him, whereas he and the other seven were on the floor playing Monopoly, Minho’s sturdy arm around your shoulder, holding your figure close to his. Hyunjin couldn't take it.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much; they’d known you longer than he had, we're closer to you, and we're never jerks the way he'd been at the onset of your relationship.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he finally tears his prying gaze from the two of you on the couch, jumping comically into the air out of fright. The boys snicker at his terrified posture, Chan—the one who had tapped him—quieting them down, covering up his chuckle. “Hey, you alright?”

“How do Minho and [Y/N] know each other?” He deadpans, getting straight to the point. He knew Jisung had introduced you, but nothing more.

Chan follows the blond’s gaze as it travels back to you, suddenly understanding the younger boy’s curiosity. Sighing, the doctor begins, “Jisung set them up on a blind date in college. They went out a few times, but never started dating,” earning a nod from the tallest male, “They’ve always had a more of an unspoken thing since then.”

Hyunjin’s heart clenches, and he doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t want to find out either. This shouldn’t affect him—you had your life before his horrible behavior and circumstances. But at this point, he's beginning to think he didn't have one before you.

Reaching behind him, he whines, “[Y/N], can you get me something to drink? I think I’ll get dizzy if I stand,” his voice pitched similar to that of a child.

You startle for a moment, before standing from Minho’s grasp and heading towards the kitchen. Reaching for a glass, you remind yourself of your height and search for your stepladder, then opting to call for assistance when you fail to find it, “Hey Minho! I’m too short to grab a cup, can you help me?” Why didn't you just ask Hyunjin for help? He was taller than Minho anyway...

The toned male nods, strutting over to where you stood, reaching from behind you into the cabinet. With a chivalrous smirk at your pink-dusted cheeks, he teases, “Here you go, M’lady.”

You thank him, completely oblivious to the way Hyunjin wants to throw up at the sight. “Really, M’lady…?” Huffing under his breath. He only detours his attention when it’s his turn and the others are shaking him, trying to get his head back in the game. Of course, they could see the broken hearts in his eyes—yes, he was that obvious—but what could they do if he wasn’t ready to confirm their collective thought? They weren’t exactly in that stage of their friendships yet. “I—uh… that’s a five… give me New York Avenue and a house…” his thoughts still focused on you, he hands Seungmin the paper currency.

“... You already own New York Avenue, you bought two houses for it last round,” a chuckle in his voice to mask his concern. Hyunjin was a touchy person—unstable, at the least, and neither of them wanted to be the one to provoke him.

“Mhm,” he mutters back, ignoring the banker. How long did it take to grab a cup? He knew at this point, Minho was caging you with his arms just for the fun of it—and you were letting him. Why was his stomach-churning uncomfortably at your blush? Why did he want to punch the flirt out of Minho?

Soon enough, you're back, handing him the cup with your eyes still trained on Minho. The older male has his focus on you, waiting for you to join him on the couch. The way you happily trot over to Minho makes Hyunjin want to hold your wrist and keep you in place, the sudden need to keep you close overwhelming but still not enough for him to take action.

Instead, he watches gloomily as the two of you flirt back and forth, whispering to each other and laughing. You liked Minho, didn't you? He scoffed. Of course, you did. If the way you acted with Hyunjin was friendly, then you must have been head over heels for the raven-head, bubbling an unrecognizable emotion in Hyung's chest all through the night as he tries to keep himself engrossed in the game and not what seemed to be a date between you and Minho.

It felt like the two of you had been living in a bubble, and somehow, Minho had popped it tonight with his presence. You had a life outside of Hyunjin, one that existed without him entirely. Only then, he realized he could be left behind.

When he regained his memory or somebody claimed him, would you disappear from his life? Would you leave him to rot in the dust, without you? He hadn't told you about Areum yet because he didn't want to think about it, but now he wasn't sure if he ever would. If you knew he was remembering things, you'd give him back to Chris and he'd never see you again. He'd live a miserable, lonely life while you would jump right back into your old routines and friends—back to Minho.

——

Shaking Felix's hand, he smiles as the last of your guests leave, his heartbeat slowing down. They were fun to hang out with, and he trusted them enough, but that was a few too many people too quick for him to relax. “Bye guys! I had fun!” his voice was more strained than it had been at the beginning of the night, but not just because he was tired.

“Later Hyunjin! Remember, you two have to come to see me this week!” Chan throws back, a joking smile on his face when the blond pouts.

Hyunjin closes the door, locking it, then checking it twice to make sure. You didn't know where it came from, but you didn't mind the habit the least bit. At least you knew you were safe, right? You grin at him innocently, before noticing the way his brows scrunch.

“Hyunjin?” you bring your hand out to touch him, then withdraw it—or you at least try to.

He snatches your hand gently, folding his fingers around it. He holds them there, along with your attention. With a long breath, he starts, “Do you… Do you like Minho?”

You stiffen upright, a bright red taking over your cheeks at the sudden question, “What're you talking about?”

He scratches his neck nervously, “You two… You guys look at each other differently than everyone else. I know we don't really talk about this stuff, but we've seen movies and that's what it looks like…” A lump forming in his throat as he continues.

“Well, kind of. We've always kind of liked each other, but neither of us have ever made a real move. Honestly, I think we'll be stuck in this circle forever,” you frown a bit, rubbing your arm. Minho had never mentioned being anything more with you, and you'd never had the nerve to try and hint that you'd like to be more, so there wasn't much pointing in the direction of you two dating.

He nods, biting his lip. Should he ask? The question that had been burning in his brain since it appeared. Why didn't you want his help? Why did it seem you'd rather be helped by anyone other than him?

“I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll see you in the morning, Hyunjin,” a tired droop to your eyes as you waddle off to your room.

Whispering more to himself than you, he murmurs, “Goodnight [Y/N],” halfway expecting you to not hear him.

Faintly, you manage to hear it. With a yawn, you mumble back, “Goodnight Hyunjin.”

“So,” Chan begins, removing the stethoscope from Hyunjin’s chest, “Any progress with your memories?”

Hyunjin swallows, glancing at the door, where you were waiting outside. Yes, he'd made a bit of progress, and he was happy about recovering his past self, but it worried him. The better he remembered, the quicker they'd find out who he was, and he'd be ripped away from you and shoved back into his old role.

Yet, looking at Chan’s expectant expression, he sighs. You were his caregiver and he was sure you'd like to be free of an unemployed freeloader. “I keep having these flashbacks or something…. but… I could be imagining these things.”

Chan nods, writing something Hyunjin can't see down. Hyunjin almost wants to peek over the clipboard and read whatever analysis the doctor has written about him. Chan starts, “So you’re getting your memory back?”

Hyunjin shrugs, his shoulders, eyes downcast. Maybe these were memories, or maybe they were dreams he was fabricating based on movies he’d seen, but he couldn’t be sure. His mind drifts from his episodes to you, wondering if you were bored in the waiting room again, or if some guy had struck up a conversation with you like the last time you stayed waiting for him. He hoped not, the thought sickened him. You smiling brightly at some rando, laughing at his jokes and giving him your number—

“Hyunjin?” Chris calls again, his brow lifting at the blond’s lack of response.

Hyunjin jolts, nodding and hoping Chan had asked a yes or no question. “Yeah—um, can I go yet? I don’t want to keep [Y/N] waiting for long.”

Chan chuckles, “You've been getting more and more attached to [Y/N] recently. Are you growing a crush on her?” The Australian winks, his teeth showing in his joking smile.

Hyunjin coughs, eyes were blown wide in surprise at Chan’s observation, because yes, he may have started to have some sort of feelings when it came to you, but he didn't think he was that obvious. He panics slightly, wondering if you'd picked up on it and decided to pretend you didn't. If that was the case, Hyunjin could deflate right then and there.

Watching the blond’s face change between shock, surprise, and embarrassment, Chris chuckles, patting his back, “I'm joking. I'm sure [Y/N] wouldn't notice anyway,” shaking his head fondly when Hyunjin relaxes in relief. “You can go now. Let me know if you remember anything else.”

Hyunjin nods, quickly straightening himself out to go see you. As the older watches him leave, he can't doubt that the caramel-eyed boy was head over heels for you.

You tap your foot impatiently, cursing yourself for wearing some slightly too-skinny skinny jeans. The hospital was cold and you'd forgotten a jacket, and you didn't even want to think about the shirt you were wearing!

Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you jump a little, before catching sight of a familiar face, “Hey pretty lady, want to chat with me for a bit?” The toothy, cat-like grin bringing heat to your cheeks.

“Hey, Minho! What're you doing here?” Your cheeriness was genuine as could be, glad there was someone you knew and liked in this hoard of strangers.

He smiles, before showing you his badly bruised knee, “Dance practice didn't go too well today,” a sheepishness to his twinkling as he gazes at you. “I'm hoping Chan can get me something to stop it from clotting too bad… And if he could make sure my ankle isn't twisted…” Drawing attention to the poorly wrapped joint with blood seeping through the cheap bandages—which were already falling apart.

“Oh my gosh Minho, that looks horrible! Here,” you get up, holding his sturdy shoulders and pushing him into your chair, “Let me fix the bandages.”

“You don't have to, I'm fine—ow!”

Cutting him off, you pull the athletic wrap off, him wincing every time it tugs at where his skin is purple. The bloodied flesh raised some questions in your mind, wondering what choreography could lead to such an injury, but you decide to ask about it later, focusing on fixing the ankle for the time being. “This should keep you steady until Chan can see you. Stay in my seat until then, please?”

Not one to disobey you, he nods, wriggling into a more comfortable position. “Thanks [Y/N]. You always seem to be around to help someone.”

You grin to yourself, dusting off your pants and standing, proud of your unprofessional bandaging skills. “I think I just happen to be at the right place at the right time,” pulling an empty chair to sit beside Minho. Even with how entertained Minho managed to keep you, you were still finding yourself wondering about the blond you'd been tending to.

You wondered if it was scary, getting constantly examined and scanned. At least, you assumed that’s what went on behind the large white doors. You’d never asked, thinking it might’ve been too touchy of a subject and deciding to ignore it instead.

“So, what do you think of your patient?”

Hyunjin walks into the waiting room, his smile dropping slightly when he sees Minho sitting in a chair before you. Why was he here? His question is answered when he watches you fix his bandages, a look of admiration glazing his eyes.

Walking closer, he comes in earshot of your conversation. His heart clenches in fear when he hears Minho ask a question he'd been wondering for a while now—unconcerned with whatever you may have been chatting with about before.

“So, what do you think of your patient?” Minho queries, his dark eyes finding your [E/C] ones.

You shrug, “He’s pretty nice these days, and he tries his best to do what he can, he does need a lot of help though. I don’t mind helping him anyway, makes me feel more useful,” ending with a smile.

Minho nods, before throwing you another question, “So he’s a lot of work? A handful?” Hyunjin grimaces, biting his lip in anticipation of your answer.

Nodding gently—ouch, Hyunjin thinks—you laugh, “It’s entertaining and fulfilling, to say the least. I’m pretty glad he got assigned to me because I don’t know how anyone else might’ve handled his old attitude.”

“You mean his inferiority complex?” The wounded male asks, quirking a brow, and you don't notice his eyes dart swiftly to Hyunjin, then back to you. He chuckles at your wide eyes, before explaining, “I could tell from the first few times I came over. He was always either staying locked in his room, or doing something you specifically asked him not to, and then not wanting it if you did it for him. I’m no psychologist or whatever they’re called, but I could tell the guy has problems with asking for help or taking the assistance when it’s offered.”

You frown slightly, “Well, yeah kinda—”

“You think I have an inferiority complex?” The blond growls, clenching his jaw tightly, cutting you off. He doesn't give you a chance to answer, instead glaring at you, hurt. So he was right. You thought he was a project. Fan-freaking-tastic.

You panic, standing in front of your chair, “That's not what I meant! Hyunjin—” cutting yourself off when he doesn't soften his gaze.

Minho stares at Hyunjin, his eyes analyzing every detail of his expression to confirm his suspicion. He lets out a huff when he realizes he was indeed correct. Standing on one leg, he bids you goodbye and walks lazily toward Chan—whose brows furrowed at whatever situation you three seemed to be having—in the large doorway. Before he passes Hyunjin, he whispers, something along the lines of “Get your memories back soon,” except with more malice than the phrase should've held, “Hwang,” under his breath, too quiet for Hyunjin to hear.

Hyunjin whips around to face the elder male, brows creased narrowly at the afterthought, “What did you say?” confusion written on his face, trying to make out the whispered word.

“I said I hope you get your memories back soon. Bye Hyunjin,” he smiles warmly, limping to Chan, wincing each time his bad ankle takes a step, flashing you a grin and a wink, “I’ll see you later.”

You wave at Minho, almost upset at him for asking such a question in the first place. It was out of line, exposing a sensitive patient about something neither of you knew anything about. But then again, you were the one who had agreed with him. You reach for Hyunjin’s wrist, only for him to pull away, “C'mon, let's go to the car,” sighing at the death stare he was shooting at you.

He stalks behind you, head low, eyes dark, and an almost heartbroken look in his eyes. You thought he was crazy and weak. That he had a complex. Of course, you did. He'd been a jerk who couldn't take help when he needed it, who was always trying to prove that he wasn't weak or helpless.

You both enter the vehicle silently, Hyunjin being the first to break the silence, “You really think of me like that?” his voice cracking in the middle.

The sound hurts, because you knew you were the first person Hyunjin had trusted and befriended since his waking, and you'd gone and hurt him. Still, you didn't want a relationship built of lies, “Yes,” and he's surprised you can't hear his heart drop, “I did… because you were someone who never wanted the help you needed and you didn't want to let anyone in at all—even now you're a bit closed off.”

His brows squish together, almost offended. Crossing his arms tightly, he turns away from you, cuddling into the corner of the seat furthest from you and frowning, “I get it. I'm a sucky jerk,” more sadness than anger in his soft voice.

You chuckle, reaching over to put a hesitant hand on his large shoulder, “That's not what I'm trying to say. What I meant was that you've changed since we met. Now—now we're friends, not patient and caretaker, but real, genuine friends… Who happen to live together because I am still taking care of you.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up a bit at that, a slight smile creeping onto his lips as the warmth of your words spread through his heart. He wills his heart to calm itself, the beating your words and touch had caused dying down. Instead of lingering on you and how you affected him, he allows his mind to wander back to Minho and his earlier words. What had he said? Hang? Han? Hwan…? He bites his lip and gives up.

Did Minho know something about him? The thought excites him, but he thinks now isn't the time to ask. He already knew he'd probably be thrown back into his old life—whatever that may have been—and he wasn't ready to leave you and your home just yet.

So he asks you to take him to the studio, inviting you to watch him so he could show off his recent learnings, proud looks on your face and his heart swells. Maybe it was because you were the only woman he actually knew, or because he'd spent so much time with you, but he was quickly falling.

You congratulate him when his instructor praises his improvement and Hyunjin nervously accepts the compliments. This felt good. He was having a good day.

Until he was having a flashback in your arms, quivering and groaning as the memories flooded to his mind.

“You're going to marry our competitor's daughter and combine our businesses, then you'll take over most of the company,” who he assumes is his mother tells him sternly, her dark hair neatly styled.

“Marry?”

“You're twenty, you have enough time to fall in love with her and all that. Forget about that middle-class girlfriend of yours and do what's best for you and all of us,” His father huffs, arms crossed on his chest.

And it feels like the air is knocked out of him before the room morphs into the kitchen he'd seen in one of the first flashbacks, Areum standing shocked in front of him, “You want to break up?”

He sees his vision shake side to side, “No—my parents are making me break up with you. They're marrying me off to the competition's daughter,” His voice wavers, and his teeth dig into his lip.

“You’re not the man I thought you were… Hyunjin,” she frowns disappointed, “If we're over, then I'm going home now.”

Now he knew what memory he was experiencing, “Wait!” His voice yells, arm reaching out to her, “I don't want it to end like this, I don't want it to end at all…” Tears beginning to pick his eyes.

Her bottom lip juts out a bit, quivering against her top lip and she breaks into tears, running into his arms and wrapping hers around him, “It doesn't have to, run away with me,” her tone pleading as she grips his shoulders tightly, her body shaking against his with sadness.

His head nods, and he agrees, “Okay, let's go.”

And he leaves everything behind. His phone, his clothes, everything besides the paper bills in his wallet, and his ID are left in the kitchen he assumed was his.

You hold him to your chest, “Wake up Hyunjin, c’mon…” Trying to bring him out of the trance.

“Is that car following us…?” Areum asks, glancing behind them through their mirrors suspiciously.

Hyunjin gulp and looks for himself before realizing the car was the same one from before the freeway, the same one that had been on their tale for the past half hour. He nods gently, and mutters, “Don't glance at him through the mirrors and definitely don't look at him directly.”

She nods, “He's after us, from your dad's company, isn't he?”

Hyunjin nods again, keeping his eyes on the road. It's calm, quiet, and a bit tense because of the vehicle trailing behind them, but they manage to relax.

And then the car serves. Areum yells, and they fly into the air, flipping one hundred-eighty degrees and he's bleeding, vision blurring, and Areum screaming in terror, glass shards flying to her face.

He sees two feet by his window, not the cop's from before but business shoes. Then a gruff, scarred face appears in front of his own, “You don't get to run from your responsibility, Hwang Hyunjin. Your father may not have been able to get rid of your girlfriend, but I have. And as a plus, I've exterminated you as well.”

Then the face and feet disappear, the car that had been following him revving its engine before racing off. Then the rain begins, sprinkling at first, then pouring, and he swears he can feel his clothes dampen. The sirens follow soon after, and he's retrieved.

He sucks in a breath, shooting up from your arms and knocking you straight in the nose with his forehead, eyes blown wide with shock and his heart pumping a thousand miles per minute.

Rubbing his throbbing head, he decides he doesn't want to keep getting his questions answered this way.

Hobi sighed wistfully. He liked being upper-class, but the work was so boring. Trip after trip where he barely got to actually enjoy the location before he was scheduled for another unexciting meeting. Tugging his tie loose, he's grateful to whoever authorized a week of relaxation—aka a week-long vacation in the Greek Islands, entirely paid for by the company.

He deserved this, he thinks to himself, a calm smile on his face as he watches wave after wave crash into the rocks down by the beach. He'd just closed a huge deal that would allow his company a store on each island—something many others before him have been pushing for years, and he'd closed it in a little over half an hour.

“Hey! Man of the week!” Taehyung calls from the other end of the phone, congratulating the older male excitedly. “If anyone deserves this week off, it's definitely you.”

He sits in the woven chaise, lifting his bottle of sparkling water to his lips happily, “Thank you Taehyung, but you helped me out a lot. Take at least half the credit.”

“No way! My moral support is not enough for fifty percent of getting an establishment on each island. I mean, we'd be lucky if they let us be a sponsor or supplier, but to actually have our own stores out there? You outdid yourself and everyone else!”

“Yah, you're too nice Tae,” closing his eyes as he leans back, enjoying the music playing quietly. “How is everyone…” His eyes shoot open. Music? There weren't any built-in speakers on the balcony, nor inside the room, and he wasn't playing anything anyway. As the melody starts up again, he slowly stands, searching for the source of it.

“...obi…? Hose… Are you there? Hoseok?” Taehyung’s concerned and slurred words fade back into his ear, breaking him out of the sudden trance as he realizes his position. He'd somehow managed to tie both his shoes, grab a jacket and find his keys, without any memory of doing so. Had he drunk something that was making his memory foggy?

Shaking his head gently, he finally replies to Taehyung, “Sorry, I zoned out for a bit. Can I call you later? I'm kind of tired right now,” mumbling most of his words in a sudden grogginess.

Of course, Taehyung understands how tired Hobi must have been. He'd worked on the presentation and speech for this meeting for over a week, making sure everything was perfect. He promised to bring Hobi a six pack (of sprite, of course—dang hotels and sparkling water) and hung up, but not before throwing in another quick congratulations.

The humming starts again, and Hoseok finds his feet pulling him out the door, dropping his phone inside before locking the door. He wills himself to stop, thinking he was just tired, but his legs continue to drag him out the hotel and onto the beach of the island. He looks to passersby, hoping they would recognize the distress in his features, but to no avail as he finds himself under the abandoned docks, hastily trudging towards a large boulder on the other side.

The humming becomes louder and louder the closer he gets, until it's practically being sung into his ear and his stomach churns. He involuntarily sits cross-legged in the sand, feeling nailed in place and unable to move.

His mind is fooled into faux serenity, serotonin and dopamine juicing as he listens to your song. It’s unlike anything he’d ever heard before, the most beautiful voice in the world, he’s sure. He’s so entranced that he doesn’t bother to take in his surroundings as he leans against your rock.

Fourteen days later and he hasn’t moved, staying glued to the sand perfectly still. He’s ignored the painful turns of his stomach asking for food, and the scratchy dryness of his voice, and his cracking skin under the evening sun for the past quartet of days, simply sitting beside you and embracing your singing. His once fit and healthy body was too weak to leave if he wanted to. His skin had paled, and his veins were sickenly prominent. He felt like a dried grape physically, and yet his mind didn’t care one bit as he swayed to the music you provided.

“It's always the handsome ones…” You mumble, stopping your singing. Slowly being freed from his trance, Hoseok turns to you and stares at your legs—or rather, lacks thereof, because instead of the long limbs he was used to seeing attached to one’s waist, you have a large, strong, scaly purple tail about four feet long.

He rubs his eyes, blinking at you in disbelief. Hobi may not have been the most scientific person out there, but he was almost sure that mermaids don’t exist. They were myths, urban legends, they weren’t real! Yet, here you were, in the flesh and… scales. With a trembling lip, he stutters in fear and confusion, voice hoarser than that time he’d belted out four John Legend songs in one night—Hoseok was a karaoke beast, “Y-you’re a mermaid…” and he struggles to scramble back in fear, finally free of whatever odd force that had brought him to you, “Stay away! S-s-stay b-back!”

You frown at his words, “No, I’m a siren,” pouting at the common mistake. You slide off your rock, into the shallow water and sigh in refreshment.

Taking the freedom he was given back, Hobi starts backing away faster, (although still significantly slow from the lethargy of not eating or drinking in four days) scrambling to his feet and trying not to trip as he darts away from you. With a roll of your eyes, you wave your hand and he’s a zombie once again, walking robotically back to where you sat. “Don’t run, there’s no use. I’ve already enchanted you, I can relieve myself of control and take it back whenever I want,” gazing sadly into your lap as he unwillingly plops beside you.

You two sit in silence for a few minutes, him staring at you in terror, and now you’re the uncomfortable one. “Stop staring,” and his head whips to the opposite side of you on command, and he wants to wince at how quickly his neck turned. You facepalm when his mouth grits at the feeling, and you frown realizing you’d accidentally forced him to turn, “Sorry.”

He doesn’t respond, making you look at him oddly before facepalming again, “Right, I have to let you talk…” with pursed lips, you wave your hand again, smiling lazily at him, “Alright, there you go. You can move around a bit, but you have to be within five-feet of me at all times.”

He feels a weight released, and his bony fingers graze his neck gently, but he still doesn’t speak to you. You assume that’s normal, considering you’d pretty much kidnapped him whilst taking control of his entire body. Testing the waters, he backs away from you slowly, noting how you shook your head disappointedly at his movements. He measures the distance, about five-feet, and inhales a deep breath. He launches himself backwards, feeling a strong sting ripple through his body and his legs carry him back into the perimeter, the pain only beginning to subside once he’s back within bounds.

“Why are you doing this? I’m not a sailor, isn’t that who you’re supposed to go after?” he pleads, groaning as he clutches his chest. That sting was powerful, he decides not to try and escape until you’re asleep, hoping your… powers would be weaker then.

You mutter something along the lines of, “Do they seriously believe that? Geez people are dumb…” then turn to him, pulling your heavy appendage with you, “First off, I don’t have to target sailors, just men. Secondly, a girl’s gotta eat, right?” a drop in your timbre at the mention of eating.

“Y-you’re gonna eat me?” he panics, shuffling backwards quickly, accidentally backing out of bounds again, jolting at the shock and screaming quietly. He rolls back into bounds, staying at the edge and drawing a line there for future reference. “Why me?”

You shrug, “You came. Not everyone hears a siren’s song. I guess you can say, this was fate,” giving him a tightlipped smile, “So what’s your name, handsome?”

He’s taken aback by your casualness. You were literally a mythical being, who would eat him sometime soon, and you were trying to make small talk? He feels the bile rise in his throat in disgust, “When are you going to… to eat me?” trying not to cry as he thinks about the painful death in store for him.

“I asked you a question first, answer,” you glare, [H/C] eyebrows furrowing menacingly.

A shiver goes down his spine, and his voice forces itself out, “Hoseok,” and he scrunches his brows in pain from the feeling of the words leaving his throat. Breathing slowly—so as to not burn his throat—he starts again, “Now you answer.”

You stare at your hands, bringing your tail to your chest and frowning, “Three days from now.” your words barely above a whisper as you utter them sadly. Hiding your head, you feel a tear stray from your eye, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to, I promise,” voice cracking as you cry. Being a man-eating beast was not how you wanted to live, and the look of petrification Hoseok had worn since you stopped singing made you feel ugly, like a monster.

“Then why are you going to?”

Biting your cheek, you close your eyes, “You wouldn't understand… If I don't, I'll die. There's only one way I can stop and it's probably a myth,” oh the irony, he thinks at your words, but perks up nonetheless.

“What is it?” The croak, turning his head to you with big eyes. “I'll help you find it,” and he's not exactly sure what's propelling him to want to help you, the weird tingling in his chest at the thought, but he chalks it up to wanting to live.

“You will?” You gasp, bringing your head out of your arms to show your glistening cheeks—the scales on your cheeks mixed with your tears really made you seem unreal—a surprised and excited expression painted on your face. When he nods in confirmation, you reach over to where he's sat and pull his face flush to yours, making him squeak in surprise as you pull away.

Wiping his sand sleeve on his lips, he ignores the slight burning sensation spreading from his mouth to his face, “Why did you kiss me?” Almost sounding offended.

“You don't know anything about sirens…”

He mutters a huh, and his eyes widen. His voice was heeled, he was hydrated, and he felt like he had twice the strength he'd had a moment ago, no longer a living skeleton. “How did you…?”

You stand, dusting off your [S/C] legs, “Magic. C'mon, it's not all that confusing. I gave you life and you gave me legs!” You cheer, dancing around with your new limbs.

Magic? Hoseok’s head throbbed. He was a businessman, a logical, rational one who was two inches away from employee of the decade, and he was standing with a magical mermaid who'd cast some sort of spell to make him well again as well as give herself legs. The beach spins around him, waves getting louder and louder and your voice mutes in his brain.

“Hey, Hoseok! Wake up! You gotta help me find that cure-thing!” You whisper-yell at him, far more excited than he'd seen you prior to his promise. “Hey! Wakey-wakey!”

He rubs his eyes, helping when sand falls into one and jolts up, coming back to his senses. Yet, now as he sees you, he's not as terrified as before. Cautious, of course, but not terrified. You need him to find the cure, so you couldn’t kill him, right? “So… what’s the cure?”

“Oh right! There’s a cockle shell somewhere on this beach, and it has the ability to free siren’s from their curse,” you say, eyes sparkling brighter than the ocean beside you. You were excited, ecstatic, because you might actually be freed from the wretched fate all sirens are slave to.

“Curse?”

“Yeah, it’s why we have to eat people. If we don’t, we turn into sea monsters with no consciousness, and eventually wither away,” you frown, thinking of your past friends and family, who had all fallen to the curse.

Hobi nods in understanding, then cocks his head to the side because there’s something he doesn’t understand, “Why haven’t any other sirens tried? I mean, there’s gotta be tons of you, right?” and he doesn't notice how your face drops.

“There were, at a time, thousands of us… Now I'm the only one left,” you bite your lip, eyes staring back at the ocean. You remembered when your sisters all would litter the beach with seashells and small trinkets, and when you'd all sing together, and go for group swims. Now all that's left are you and the memories you kept a tight hold on, careful not to forget any. “I don't want to eat anyone else, but I don't want to die.”

Hoseok isn't sure if it's the after effects of your singing or his own genuine care, but he leaps forward, pressing your head into his chest and caressing your hair, his own tears pricking his eyes. In need of comfort, you wrap your arms around his waist, listening to his slowly accelerating heartbeat until you calm down.

“Thanks… I needed that,” you sniffle, pulling back and pressing your palm against his chest.

He feels his heart jump at your touch, and barely chokes out a quick “No problem!” Before turning into a blushing mess. Man, a siren's magic was strong. Here he was, utterly terrified of being eaten, yet he was comforting you—what sort of screwed up enchantment was this?

“So where do we check first?”

You two start by checking all the rocks on the shore, Hobi keeping his distance at the maximum the entire time, afraid of what you might do to him. It was almost offensive, but in all honesty you completely understood where his hesitation was coming from. Still, it hurt you that you weren’t worthy of even a bit of his trust.

The two of you sit in an awkward silence, Hobi’s lack of talking due to the soreness of his throat as well as his fear of you. Yours however, was solely because you didn't really know how to.make casual conversation anymore—much less with a human.

Eventually, he gets tired of the quietness and recalls that you have a certain gift, “...Can you sing something?”

Delighted, you nod, beginning the same song you’d entranced him with before, only this time he isn’t some dying fool high on endorphins--not entirely, at least. He sways peacefully to your voice, but stays on edge in case he starts acting differently.

He finds himself even searching involuntarily at times, his body moving on its own to check underneath the large beach builders. It’s such an odd sensation, his muscles moving without him telling them to do so. His stomach doesn't growl a single time, and he wonders what kind of magic you must possess to make his hunger disappear so easily.

The first night passes by slowly, very little conversation, lots of searching, and very little (no) findings. It’s disappointing, to say the least, because while you knew you weren’t about to find the mythical shell in one night, you hoped you would. You were a believer, for better or worse, and this time, it had turned out to be worse.

The second night the two of you search through empty buildings, breaking into an abandoned one every few minutes to check for the magical item, only to come up empty handed. What does prove to be fruitful, are your rusty conversation skills. You manage to coax Hobi into telling you about his life, his job and family, which only make you feel even guiltiest about luring him to his death.

(Oddly enough, the more he tells you, the more he wants to tell you, but he just blames that on magic and curses.)

Just like how he tells himself that it's just the curse that makes your eyes so wonderfully sparkly, so beautiful and captivating. That he doesn't think your immature antics are amusing in the least (he does), and that each laugh is a figment of the spell he was under.

The third night is everything short of eventful. You’re quieter than the previous two days, and Hoseok is less jittery than before, actually waiting for you to strike up conversation. Luckily for him, you do. It’s nothing interesting you talk about, but something about how your eyes sparkle in the moonlight as you do so has Hobi asking to hear more. By dawn, you two have swept the entire island, having checked every house and every cave, but to no avail.

And by the fourth night, the two of you are sure you've looked under every rock, checked every nook and double checked every cranny on the entire island, and you've still come up empty handed.

“I'm gonna die!” You wail, giant, sparkly, salty tears flowing from your eyes. “If we don't find that cockle shell by tomorrow morning I'm dead!”

Hobi appears a few seconds after your outburst, heaving in exhaustion from chasing you across the beach, confused and disoriented, “What? You’re going to die? Why?” His heart dropped at the notion of losing you.

“Because of the curse. It’s one of the reasons why everyone else in my family is dead,” you release your head from your hands so Hoseok’s long fingers wipe your tears as he sits beside you, “We have a week’s time limit to break the curse or we die,” your voice cracking in fear.

Hobi pulls you against him, resting his head on your shaking shoulder and whispering calming affirmations into your ear, doing his best to keep himself from crying.

Over the better part of a week you two had been searching for this damn shell, he’d grown fond of your animated attitude and childlike behaviors, he’s even fallen for your dangerous song that had reeled him in almost a month ago. It was hard to believe there was a time he didn’t love you, a time where all he’d wanted was to get away. Now he wished he could stay by your side forever.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he mutters into your sandy hair, trying not to spit out the grains that find their way into his mouth. He wishes he could do something to keep you on this earth, to trade places and save you—

Then it hits him. He can. “I can save you,” he takes a deep breath, turning your face to his, “You can live, even if it’s only for a little longer.”

You cock your head, staring into his doe eyes, “What do you mean? Only breaking the curse can save me.”

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours and holding you tighter to him, “You can eat me. That’ll give you more time, right? You have my permission,” his eyes not showing an ounce of hesitation. Enchanted or not, he was whipped.

“What? No!” You protest, crying again and cradling his neck in your small hands, “I’m already going to lose my life… I can’t lose you too,” biting your lip as you pray there’s a magical cockle shell ready to appear any minute now.

He wipes your tears away again, smiling, “Please? I don’t want to live without you…”

“You’re just saying that because you’re enchanted,” you frown, squeezing your eyes shut, “The moment I’m gone, you’ll wake up and hate me for stealing all this time from you.”

Hoseok wonders if that’s really true, but with the urge he has to hold you forever and kiss you tell him it’s not. He’s sure what he feels is more than the magic of an aphrodisiac voice, and he shakes his head, “No, I won’t. I love you, [Y/N].”

You shake your head “no”, ready to back away from him to die in peace, “No, you don't,” when he pulls your lips to his, kissing you gently. You yelp, pulling away, before he kisses you again, making you cry harder than you thought possible. The tingles in your stomach, his hands around yours and his warm lips, it’s all too much for you to handle. Sirens didn’t get to experience these things, they didn’t get to have the loving kisses and hand-holding. Sirens didn’t get to love, or be loved for that matter.

Yet here you were, still embracing the businessman who’d given you everything for the past three weeks, ready to wither away in his arms.

“You can still eat me, I won’t fight you or anything,” he mumbles tiredly, yawning at the bright sun.

You shake your head, leaning more into his touch, “I can’t. I’d rather die in your arms than have to kill you,” and you cherish the slight bittersweet look on his sharp features.

It’s a cruel waiting game, both of you expecting your body to suddenly give out any moment now. You try to pass the time, telling tales of old and funny anecdotes from your heritage and Hoseok’s life.

Only when a cold hard surface brushes against his fingers does Hobi look away from you. It’s an old-fashioned glass bottle with a note inside and a rubbing tied around the cork for decoration. Curiously, he opens it, confusion taking over his face when he doesn’t understand any of the writing, “Can you read this?”

“Hm? Let me see,” you hum, nodding at the familiar language, “It’s in the old mermaid’s tongue, from when sirens first came to be. It says ‘congratulations! You broke the curse and get to live!’ What the—“

You both stare at each other, until you tackle him happily, “‘You’ve managed to fall genuinely in love with a human, repressing your urges and having the feelings reciprocated! From…’” you trail off, eyes watering at the pen name, “From one of my sisters, before she died. I guess she was a lot older than I thought.”

“So, you’re not dying?”

You nod, overjoyed and pumping with love, “And I get to stay human!” You squeal, pointing to a poorly drawn stick-siren, an arrow pointing towards a human stick-girl and an infinity symbol.

“You got that from that…?”

“She was never the best artist but I know how to interpret it,” you laugh, reading the post message at the bottom of the old parchment paper, “And according to her, the cockle shell thing was a complete myth made up by a sailor who was trying his best to live. Poor guy.”

“And to think I was ready to die!” Hobi laughs, rolling over you he’s squishing his face into your stomach, “This is the best moment of my entire life! I love you so much!”

“And I love you! My fancy human man!” Making him flush and laugh, “I will walk with you to the ends of the earth.”

“You say that but you have no idea how tiring walking can really get.”

► BTS TAGLIST: @imbonibi @fangirl125reader @geniejunn