He lays there, in his bathtub, the memories of the night running through his head as he runs his hand through his hair. It seems like such a fleeting moment, like a dream that he barely remembers happening but his heart yearns to remember what it was. He needed to know you. You, who stood out to him amongst the crowd. You, who commanded his attention without even looking in his direction.

Who are you?

Closing his eyes, the scene plays like a movie. He’s fixing his tie, looking at his reflection in the window when you silently walk past behind him – alone. He looks behind him, only to find you gone.

Did he imagine you?

He wanders around, lifting his head above the crowd because he knows he wasn’t going crazy, that he saw you walk past. Where could you have gone in such a short period of time? Jongin searches for even a glimpse of you and when he is about to give up – there you are.

Your dress stands out from everyone that you are around. It’s not that it’s an extravagant colour or that it’s revealing or outlandish but because it is you who is wearing it. Your hair is styled in a way that it seems to look completely effortless but he knows that you probably spent hours in the mirror to perfect it. Your makeup, subtle, natural and yet, it manages to captivate your beauty without overpowering it. You look like you just walked out of a dream, his dream? Jongin isn’t too sure but he knows that there is something about you that feels so familiar that his worry melts away as he reaches you.

“Hello.” He smiles at you, offering you his hand and you raise an eyebrow, confused.

Taking his hand, you watch him bring it to his lips and kiss the silk, white glove. “You know that talking to strangers at a party is a sure-fire way to get into trouble.”

Jongin’s lips quirk up at the corner. “How so?”

“How do you know I’m not here with my significant other? You just assumed I was here alone.”

Jongin shakes his head. “Not alone, I was surprised when I saw you alone but something about you made me want to talk to you.”

“You know how that sounds right?” There’s a teasing undertone to your words and Jongin snickers, turning his face down to his shoes before looking at you and you hate to admit it so suddenly but he’s drawing you in.

Running a hand through his hair, Jongin offers you his arm to take, not sure where he would take you if you took it but he knows he just wants more time with you. “Then, let's not make it sound like that. Don’t think of us as strangers, I feel too comfortable for it to seem like that; think of us as long-lost friends finding each other again.”

You never told him your name, you never said anything more than thank you when the song finished and you parted ways. You moved with him like a shadow, matched his every step while your eyes never left him; when he dipped you, when he nearly caved in and kissed you, you smirked, patted his cheek and walked away. You left him standing there, watching you leave like a passing memory before his shoulders slumped and he walked home.

Jongin couldn’t help but feel like he knew you, like this has happened before like Deja vu or maybe you had once been someone he passed in a crowd and held his attention. Whichever it was, he couldn’t figure it out now as he moves to get out, the water sloshing around him as he gets out of the bathtub and reaches for his towel.

There’s a faint knock on the door as Jongin towels his hair and he tilts his head before making sure his towel is tied tightly around his waist. He pokes his head out of the bathroom and looks at the door across the room.

Did he hear things?

Another knock alerts him to the fact that there is someone at his door and he walks slowly towards the front door while whoever it is on the other side knocks more impatiently. His heart is racing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he reaches for the handle and opens the door. “Hello?” He opens the door and finds you standing on his doorstep, looking at him with the same type of shock on your face as he does.

He never expected you to be here and you never expected him to be shirtless.

Your cheeks blush as Jongin silently steps out of the way, allowing you to rush inside without looking at him. “How’d you know where I lived?” He asks, locking the door while you keep your back to him.

“Can you put on a shirt?”

“It’s midnight, you’re the one who came to my apartment at this time of night. Answer my question.”

You turn to look at him with a thin line set on your lips. “Have you really forgotten?” You ask and scoff when he looks confused. Of course, he had, you were nothing more than a familiar stranger when you left years ago - why would he remember you, it’s not like you said hello to him nearly every day for two years. “Jongin, it’s me.” You said your name and watched as realisation hit him.

How could he have been so blind? How could he not have remembered? He memorized your face, your smile, the cute little way you said hello and yet - he saw you as nothing but a stranger.

But here you are, a stranger no more, a memory brought back for him to cherish. “I think we have some catching up to do.”

Every now and then, you would sneak a glance at him. And every time he would be smiling and talking to the people. His people. Your heart swooned at the sight.

“He’s quite an attractive young man.” You turned to see an old lady standing in front of you, giving you a toothless smile. You nodded in agreement. “You two would be very cute together,” she told you. You coughed awkwardly, hoping he didn’t hear what she said. She chuckled, patting your cheek before walking away.

You shook your head, clearing away the embarrassment she had just instilled onto you. You loved old people to death, but they could be a bit blunt. Guess it came with age. You laughed quietly to yourself imagining you at her age saying that to someone your age.

You bit your lip, daring to glance at Prince Jongin. You wished you hadn’t. The old lady was talking to him and he was staring at you. You locked eyes for a brief three seconds. Then he sent you a smile and you dropped your gaze, cheeks burning.

Your friend bugged you about the incident for days. She begged for details and gossip, even though there were no detail or gossip. You saw each other, old people like to embarrass younger people, Prince Jongin flashed you (along with every patron) an award winning smile. You bet his smile could cure any illness.

“He’s so handsome and kind and wow. I’m jealous you got to see him, and I’m pissed you didn’t talk to him,” she huffed. You shrugged, scrolling through your phone. “Seriously! You guys could have had such a romantic moment! I mean, it’s not like meeting at a café, or an art museum, or in a park on a cloudy day where you could have bumped into each other, and he would have apologized helping you up--”

You tuned her out, attempting not to fall off her bed laughing. No more rom-coms for the two of you, especially if she was going to go off on tangents like this.

A few days later, said friend called you, claiming she was too sick to go to the orphanage and help, but they really needed volunteers. She begged you to go in her place because the girls were really looking forward to this.

“You don’t sound sick,” you told her as you slipped on some comfortable shoes.

You heard her gasp on the other side of the line.

“Would you like to hear me throw up? Will that convince you? Because I’ll go throw up right now and I will let you hear just how sick I am,” she threatened.

“Please don’t,” you said cringing at her words.

“Good. Now don’t be late. And make sure you look cute!”

“Why do I need to look cute?” you inquired.

“Do you want to have a bunch of six-to-eight year old girls give you makeover?” she asked in return.

“Good point.”

Arriving at the doors of the orphanage, you were immediately greeted by dozens of small arms wrapping around you. The children absolutely adored visitors, but they idolized you. They asked you so many questions, some very, very, very personal questions. You diverted their attention by playing hairdresser.

You were braiding a little girl’s hair when she let out a squeal. Along with every other girl in the room. Glancing up, you saw him. Prince Jongin was here. Being handsome, sweet and caring. That’s why your friend was playing sick. She knew Prince Jongin would be here.

And… was he approaching you? Yes. Yes he was, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Until he was right in front of you, the poor lighting making him look like an angel.

“Hi.”

Prince Jongin was talking. To you. Speak Y/N, speak!

“Uh, hi your--”

“Kai,” he quickly interjected, waving to the little girl who's hair you were doing. She giggled, waving back shyly. “And you’re…”

“Y/N,” you told him. He smiled and you could have melted into a puddle right then and there. Oh, why did his smile have to be so welcoming? Why couldn’t he be cheesy? Why did he have to be so damn genuine? He stood there, hands in his pockets as his brown orbs stared into your own.

“Is Y/N your princess?” asked one of the little girls. You choked on air, hand over heart. Apparently old people weren’t the only one who like to say uncomfortable things. You were about to say something, but Prince Jongin, or Kai, spoke for you.

“Yes, she is. In fact, we travel around and help people all over,” he told her sitting on the bed. The girls gathered around the two of you, staring at Kai with stars in their eyes. You were probably staring at him the same way. “Princess Y/N and I are traveling around the kingdom, making people everywhere happy.” He grabbed your hand smiling and intertwined your fingers.

Your heart stopped. Was this a heart attack? Or a stroke? You stared at your clasped hands, eyes wide and face flushed. The girls squealed and giggled, fawning over the two of you. You fought back a grin as Kai talked to the girls. He was so good with children. He’d make a great dad one day.

No. Not the time to be fantasizing about the freaking Prince. Weren’t you a smart one. You inwardly scolded yourself as Kai went to play with the girls. You guys chilled until dusk, when the girls had to get ready for bed.

The Prince escorted you out of the girls’ room and towards the front door. “Sorry if I, uh, if I made you uncomfortable,” he told you scratching the back of his head. “It’s just I remembered seeing you a week ago, at the soup kitchen.”

“You remembered me?” you asked shocked. He grinned sheepishly, nodding his head. “Why? How?” You were honestly amazed Prince Jongin, who probably had hundreds of princesses fighting for his attention, remembered you.

“I just--well--uh, you were helpful, and you seemed happy to be there. Plus you’re really beautiful,” he added under his breath. You chuckled awkwardly, staring at the ground.

He stopped just before the front door, turning to you. He was staring at the ground, laughing awkwardly. “I know this is weird and sudden, but there’s this reading next week, and I was just--you know--wondering if, maybe, you would attend? With me?” he inquired.

You stared at him, mouth slightly open. His shoulders drooping snapped you out of your stooper. “Yes!” you shouted. He jumped back. “Sorry. Yes. I would love to go to a reading with you,” you assured him.

He grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Great, I’ll pick you up at three. Good evening, Princess Y/N.” You grinned back.

Every photo you receive makes you smile; there is the random picture of a dog, the architecture makes small appearances whenever he takes a selfie or the manager has taken a photo of him doing something very Jongin. The pictures come in a flood when he’s on his way to the show, taking pictures of everything and anything and telling you how much he wishes you were there.

You send random photos back, glad that his being away has fallen within your days off. You take photos of the weather, the food you eat and send him some selfies of you and Reon. The seven hour time difference is a hindrance but you try not to let it stop you both from trying to enjoy Chuseok as together as you can.

You tell him you miss him too, that you’ve changed your sleeping patterns just so you can stay awake and watch the show – almost as if you are with him. Jongin smiles when he gets the message, thinking how weird you are but he loves it, loves you, for doing such small things just for him.

The messages slow down when he tells you he’s arrived at the destination and is getting ready for the show. You send him a selfie of you blowing a kiss and receive a puffy cheeked Jongin back which causes you to giggle.

It’s late, the show isn’t due to start for a few hours and you can already feel the sleep wanting to inch into your bones as you prepare for bed. The shower washes away some of the sleep you’re fighting, you imagine what Jongin is wearing; he never told you but you know he’s probably wearing something sexy, looking like a snack while smiling sweetly at the make-up noonas who are touching up the small blemishes on his cheek from the lack of sleep he’s had and the mark you not-so-subtlety left on his shoulder.

A wicked smile stretches your lips as you think about how fun it would be to rile Jongin up. He’s a very sexually needy man during stressful times, needing the release to help and you are never complaining when he comes home, slides into bed and begins kissing your neck to wake you up with some mind-blowing sex; so sending some raunchy pictures would cause him to lose his mind because he can’t touch you.

Feel you.

Hear you.

Taste you.

The only thing Jongin will have is the sight of you and the frustration of not being the one to touch you so intimately.

Jongin’s phone buzzes several times, he knows it’s you, probably saying goodnight and sending some selfies of you cuddled up with the dogs in bed – ready to watch the show like you had promised. His manager tells him not to get distracted, that he needs to mentally prepare himself for the cameras and screaming fans that no doubt will be waiting for him.

So he places the phone – and unopened messages – back into his pocket and stares out the window with a faint frown and pout.

The fans causes his heart to swell with pride, they are chanting his name, EXO’s name and the signs are dominating the streets while he gets out of the car and waves at everyone. Jongin sends as many waves and hearts as he can before he’s pushed gently towards the entrance of the theatre. He does what he’s told, stand there and model for some photos, answer some questions about what he’s wearing and smile for the camera all the way to his seat – where he’s almost left alone.

When out in public, Kim Jongin is barely left unnoticed but it’s the lifestyle he signed up for when he debuted with EXO.

He feels his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and while waiting for the show to properly start, he decides to check your messages and remind you that you should get some rest. Imagine his surprise when he sees that your first picture is of you in his favourite deep blue lingerie set. Jongin supresses a groan, pulling at his bottom lip with his fingers while he looks at the next picture; you’ve captioned this one as ‘wish you were home’ and are resting on his side of the bed, a sinful expression on your pretty face while your hand cups your sex.

He swallows thickly, quickly typing back a warning before glancing at the next photo. Jongin’s eyes open wide with surprise when he sees that you’ve removed the bra, one arm draped across your chest to keep it from his dark, hungry eyes.

[Ninibear 2030] You should be asleep, Jagiya. Stop playing games and get some rest.

The lights focus on the stage below and Jongin leans over to watch; he’s always been interested in fashion, Jongin has been known to be one of the idols that breaks the fashion barriers by wearing heeled shoes while dancing, having carried a woman’s handbag when at Incheon yesterday and recently worn crop tops during the Elyxion dot concerts.

He enjoys breaking stereotypes and opening up the eyes and hearts of those around him.

Jongin’s phone remained silent during the show, you knew better than to actually disturb him during an important event – not wanting to be the reason he got backlash for being on his phone rather than enjoying the one thing he went to Paris for.

You snuggled into bed, having replaced the sexy outfit with Jongin’s blue Maison Kitsune t-shirt while watching the show. You can feel yourself dropping in and out of consciousness as the show progressed and eventually, you dozed off and dreamt of Jongin being home.

Jongin pouts when he sees no messages from you when the show comes to a close but he assumes you’ve fallen asleep. He walks out, greeted by the large crowd once more and as he climbs into his car, he sighs. How he wishes you were here with him, spending Chuseok together rather than apart but he can’t do much about it now so he passes his manager his phone.

“Can you take a photo for me please?” He asks, posing for the camera and sending it to you. I wish you were here, he captions before he hits send and he smiles softly, thinking about how you’re probably curled up and snoring by now – a sight he loves.

The gentle vibration of your phone stirs you awake and you squint as you look at the cute picture of Jongin. He wishes you were there, he has no idea how much you wish you could be because the dream you had of him had stirred up lingering issues you were experiencing before falling asleep. You smirk, pulling the shirt over your head and sliding the panties down your legs as you pose for a photo – you hide nothing from his eyes, your naked form on full display for him to look at.

The next picture is a little more filthy, a blush develops on your cheeks as you begin to move your fingers down your body and circle your clit; your thighs shake the more into the act you go and you snap several photos before pulling your hand away and trying to control your breathing.

Jongin nearly drops his phone when he receives the pictures, feeling his heart race faster as a deep blush tickles his cheeks when he looks down at his phone and marvels at your risqué behaviour. Never have you done such a thing for him, never has he asked such a thing of you but here you are; his sweet, loving girlfriend causing his jeans to tighten while miles away from his twitching hands.

Jongin raises his wine glass to his lips, a million thoughts passing through his mind as he looks at your hand pushing inside your tight pussy and the sinful way your lips part as he imagines you sighing his name makes his knees weak.

Another message pushes the picture out of his view and he groans when he sees that it’s a voice message; he presses his phone to his ear, making sure the volume is low enough for only his ears to hear it. “Jongin-ah,” he can hear you moan clearly, “fuck, baby, please.” He pulls the phone away, shutting the screen off as he tries to calm his speeding heart – he’s at the Gucci after party, he’s surrounded by cameras and celebrities.

He cannot be thinking about fucking you right now and yet, that’s the only thought in his mind.

Jongin can feel himself growing and he awkwardly tries to adjust himself every time someone comes to talk to him, whenever a photo is taken and when a woman stands too close – Jongin tries to turn his waist away as to not to give her the wrong idea.

“Excuse me,” he bows, cutting some model off in mid-sentence as he rushes towards the bathroom. His cock is throbbing; the tightness of his jeans is making him feel like he’s cutting off the circulation and as he looks at his reflection in the mirror, Jongin can see how big of a problem this has become.

You are playing dirty, you don’t expect to get anything back from Jongin because of his professionalism when it comes to work so teasing him, riling him up and finding amusement in imagining his horrified expression is fun for you.

Imagine your shock when Jongin sends you a photo back.

His shirt is completely unbuttoned, showing off his nicely toned abdomen while his free hand is clutched around his clothed erection – showing you just how affected he is and making you salivate at the sight.

[Jagiya 0549] I want to tear those clothes off and wrap my lips around your hard cock.

All you receive back is a photo of Jongin with a smug smirk; it should piss you off knowing he’s decided to play you at your own game but it only ups the stakes for you.

Who will cum first?

When Jongin gets back to the hotel, he completely strips, haphazardly throwing his clothes onto the chair in the corner and sighs in pleasure as his hard cock springs free from the confines of his briefs. He begins pumping himself, not even waiting until he’s on the bed before pleasuring himself. Jongin grabs his phone from his jacket and lies on the bed, holding his cock straight for you to see what you’ve done to him.

[Ninibear 1132] Is this what you wanted? Does seeing how affected I am make you happy?

You can feel the heat travel straight to your throbbing core when you see the picture and you slide a finger inside your soaking pussy to begin easing your need.

Yes, yes it makes you so happy knowing you can cause such a response from him no matter the distance but Jongin doesn’t find your lack of reply as an acceptable answer so he calls you. You jump in surprise when your phone begins vibrating when you didn’t expect it to.

“I asked you a question,” Jongin’s deep voice is like a song to your ears. “I expect you to answer me, Jagiya.”

You whimper, his commanding voice sending waves of excitement through you. “Yes,” you moan; Jongin groans on the other end. “Are you jerking yourself off, Nini?” You ask innocently, something Jongin hates when you do this to him. How you play coy, act all innocent when you arouse him in front of the members, in public or even when you pretend to be picking something up but are actually shaking your ass for his eyes to be hypnotised by.

“When I get home,” his breath hitches as he speeds up and his toes curl, “I don’t care if we are in the car but the moment we are alone, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” Jongin clenches his teeth, your moans as you quicken your own pace fill his head and as he closes his eyes he can imagine how you’d look.

Hair messy while your eyes are clenched shut and your teeth digging into your bottom lip, one hand will be holding your phone tight while you lift your hips and finger fuck yourself – you’d be frustrated because you wouldn’t be able to reach the depth Jongin can, no matter how hard you try.

Jongin would be looking like a God, even as naughty as he is; his delicious caramel skin would have a slight sheen of sweat as his plump lips part with every erotic sound that escapes, his knuckles would be white as he uses his phone as a way to keep him from completely losing himself to the pleasure. His hand would be moving in a blur while his hips thrust to push him further along and his toes would curl and stretch as he reaches his end.

Your conversation is filled with moans, whispers of the other’s name and as the white hot pleasure burns through your veins, Jongin can hear you shake – would you be pushing yourself through the orgasm like he does, feeling your pussy clench around your fingers or have you clamped your thighs shut and pulled them out as you clench around nothing.

“Fuck,” he moans, the image of you spent on your shared bed pushes him over the edge and his hips stutter as his hand slows and the warmth of his seed rests on his tensed abdomen. You chuckle, sounding tired while Jongin snorts into the phone. “That was interesting.” You hum; he can hear you roll over onto your side.

“I miss you,” you whisper, the pout evident in your sleepy tone. “You’ll be home soon?”

He hums, nodding his head even though you can’t see it. “Before you know it, Jagiya; get some sleep okay?” You yawn while Jongin smiles warmly. “I’ll call you when I wake up, okay.” You mumble your reply as Jongin gets up to clean up his mess; he tells you he loves you before ending the call and shaking his head.

With a conciliatory air, he turned back to the stranger, who had made no attempts to leave, saying, “I apologize for my ward’s impertinence, monsieur; you can assign her lack of manners to my charge.”

“She robbed me of my gustation, sir.”

“What were you eating?”

The stranger shrugged.  “Just some girl.”

Monsieur Boudreaux nodded, and spread his hands apologetically.  “Eh, bien, you see, she’s rather sensitive to that sort of thing.”  He looked around, consideringly.  “However…the night is young.  I’m sure that you’ll quickly be able to find something to eat, if you leave now.”

The man smiled. “Just so.  However, I’m not inclined to let this discourtesy stand.  My grievance is with her, not you.  Give her to me, and I’ll be on my way.”

Monsieur Boudreaux shook his head, a rueful smile ghosting about his mouth.  “I’ve already named her my ward…therefore you are fully aware that I cannot do that.”

Smiling again, the stranger answered, “Perhaps, sir.  But now my blood is up, and your little ward didn’t provide me with enough of a fight to cool my ire.”

Nodding again, Monsieur Boudreaux looked at the ground.  With a powerful spring, he was suddenly upon the man, his large hand wrapped around the shorter man’s throat.  Eyes wide, he asked, in an eerily calm voice, “Is this enough fight for you, monsieur” before digging his claws into the man’s neck, and ripping out part of his spine, through his throat.

The man’s blood pattered in an arc across the square, across your face, and you started in dreadful revulsion, but couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream.  This was so much more brutal, so much more visceral than your way.

Monsieur Kim was still crouched next to you, his expression grim, as you both watched Monsieur Boudreaux calmly drag the stranger’s body, by his ruined neck, over to you.  As he approached, you saw in mounting horror that the man was still alive, his head flopping grotesquely, his jaw working as if he were trying to speak.

You tried to drag yourself away, but your arms merely skittered across the cobblestones.  

Monsieur Kim rose suddenly, putting his body between you, and the approaching Monsieur Boudreaux.  “What is the meaning of this, sir?”

“Step aside, or I will walk right through you, miserable spectre,” Monsieur Boudreaux pronounced, his tone dismissive.  

Monsieur Kim set his jaw.  “Stop!  Can you not see that you’re terrifying her?”

“This, fantôme, is the only way to save her!”

After taking a moment to search Monsieur Boudreaux’s eyes, Monsieur Kim stepped aside.  

Monsieur Boudreaux crouched in front of you, wrapping his other hand around the stake, and abruptly pulling it out and throwing it away.

Your body jerked at its removal, and blood started to spurt from the wound in earnest, pouring down your shoulders to pool beneath you on the ground. Fiery pain roared through your breast, and your vision began to darken.  

Monsieur Boudreaux took the man, and unceremoniously shoved his throat into your mouth.  Convulsively, you swallowed, but then tried to turn your head.  Monsieur Boudreaux stroked your hair, crooning, “Non, non, ma petite, this is what you need to become well.  A human would be better, but this will have to do.”

You closed your mouth, refusing to drink, turning your head from the ruin of the man who had attacked you.  

Tutting, Monsieur Boudreaux remonstrated, “Ma chère, I’ve no desire to force you, but I will.”  

Looking up, you caught Monsieur Kim’s eye.  He nodded once, grimly.  You shook your head.  

“Do it,” he said, his voice low.  

You closed your eyes, and clenched your teeth, fighting against the almost overwhelming desire to grab the man by the hair, bury your face into his neck, and drink until he was no more than dry bones.  Then you heard it.  

“Please.  Please, mademoiselle.  Please drink.  Please.  Don’t leave me.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze met Monsieur Kim’s, and he was on his knees beside you, his expression stricken.  

Closing your eyes from the gruesome sight before you, you turned, opened your mouth, and drank.

***

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar room.  Sitting up, you looked around to see Monsieur Kim sitting in a chair in the corner.  

His attention snapped to you as soon as you sat up, and he stood and walked over, sitting beside you and reaching for your hands, before realization came over his face, and he subsided.

“Where am I?” you queried.

He grimaced.  “You’re in Monsieur Boudreaux’s home.  He carried you here, after…the incident.”

Eyes widening in shock, you threw back the covers, and stood, only to waver, and fall back to the bed.  A familiar pain that you hadn’t felt in months clawed its way up your stomach, and seized your throat, and you groaned.

“Mademoiselle!” Monsieur Kim exclaimed.  “Are you still unwell?  Please, sit still for a moment, and compose yourself.”

“Monsieur Kim,” you panted, eyes glazed with pain as you looked up at him.  “Do you hate me this much?  Why didn’t you let this wretched existence end when there was a chance?”

His face paled, and his expression was nothing short of horrified. He shook his head, eyes never leaving yours, as his face became stern, almost angry.  “Mademoiselle, you will not say anything like that ever again, do you hear?  I forbid it!”

“Forbid?” You laughed mirthlessly.  “I detest what I am!  You detest what I am. You asked me not to leave you alone, but what else is keeping you here?  It only makes sense that upon my demise, you will be set free!”

“I refuse to hear any more of this nonsense!”

You turned away.  “Then leave.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because you’re still hurt.”

“I’ll be fine!” you growled bitterly.  “That’s just it.  No matter what happens, I’m always fine!  So, go!”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I wish to be alone.”

“I care not.”

“Why won’t you leave me to be miserable in peace?!”

“Because I still love you!”

You stopped breathing, your eyes wide, as you stared at each other.

The door opened, and in strode Monsieur Boudreaux.  “Finally, you’re awake!”

“Finally?!” you echoed, still dumbfounded over Monsieur Kim’s confession.  Dazedly, you inquired, “How long have I been here?”

“A number of days,” Monsieur Kim answered.  

Face blanching, you struggled once more to rise.  “My parents! How can I ever explain?  I–”

“Calm yourself, chérie,” Monsieur Boudreaux crooned.  “I spoke to that lady’s maid of yours, and she has concocted a story about your being sick in your room, all this time, with the congestive fever.  She has remained in your room, to ostensibly tend to you.”

“You spoke to Cosette?”

“I told him that she knows,” Monsieur Kim said.

“A jewel, that one,” Monsieur Boudreaux mused.  

A sudden cramping in your gut doubled you over, and you cried out, clawing at the coverlet.  It was growing difficult to think, much less speak.

Monsieur Boudreaux tsked.  “This is why finding a human would have been better.  Alas, we did not have the time.  It has been a number of days since you have been able to eat, however, and if you don’t do it soon, your body will do it for you.”

Monsieur Kim looked up in alarm.

Laughing softly at his expression, Monsieur Boudreaux nodded.  “That is the way of it.  If we do not feed while we can, the mind shuts down, we become no better than beasts, and we eat the first thing we come across. However, no one should know that better than you, hein, mon ami?”

Monsieur Kim’s face reddened, and he growled, “You are altogether vile, Boudreaux!”

“Yet, I am here, and you are not,” Monsieur Boudreaux taunted.  “At least…not in any way that truly matters.”

Panting, shaking, a fine sheen of sweat covering your skin, you tried to rise. “Be silent, monsieur!” you grated as you pushed yourself once more off of the bed.

“Do not overtax yourself,” he crooned.  “I have something for you.”

A sigh of relief ghosted past your lips, and you sank back bonelessly to the bed.  

He left the room, but was back in a moment, with something in his arms. When he drew closer, and you saw what it was, both you and Monsieur Kim leapt back, unadulterated horror on your faces.  You pushed yourself into the furthest corner of the room, digging your claws into the plaster, in an effort to lock yourself in place.  “Monsieur,” you started, your voice hollow and breathless.  Unable to finish, for the combined abhorrence and pain that clogged your throat, you just wordlessly shook your head, in desperation.

“You are no gentleman!” Monsieur Kim thundered, placing his body in front of yours, so that you would not have to see what Boudreaux held in his arms. “You, sir, are a villain! Nothing more than a depraved fiend!”

You closed your eyes, trying to shut out the world.  The hunger, the yelling, the horror, the tempting scent.  For what Boudreaux held in his arms.  What he gently placed on the bed–

–was your precious little Angeline.

The noxious odour of the same chemical that had been used on you, all those months ago, rose up, choking you with its panic-inducing scent.  

“What have you done?” you whimpered, heart pounding against your ribs.  

“I?  I’ve merely brought you your much needed dinner.  Now, be a good dear, and have something to eat.” Boudreaux replied.

“Non.  Non.  Non, non, non, non, non!” you shrieked, your voice escalating in panic.  “Take her away!  Take her back!”

“I understand that you have developed a penchant for the child, but the fact remains that if you do not eat soon, you will go, forgive the lack of a better term, quite rabid.”

“That child is her charge!” Monsieur Kim shouted, his strong voice the only thing currently anchoring you to your sanity.  “How dare you suggest she commit such a revolting abomination!”

“This child is what is standing between her, and good health.  She is unconscious; she will feel no pain.” Boudreaux’s voice was dismissive.  

“Take her back!” you rasped, having even lost the energy to scream.

Boudreaux’s eyes narrowed.  “I will not!  You are so stubborn! Just like your arrière grand-mère!”

You shook your head at the non sequitur.

Monsieur Kim took over for you.  “What the devil are you talking about, Boudreaux?”

“You knew…my…” you coughed, the sweet scent of Angeline’s blood flowing in her veins, making you swallow convulsively.

“Knew her?” he asked, his voice quiet.  “I loved her!”

Your eyes shot to his.  

His face was red, and his breathing was elevated. Running a finger under his collar, he turned, and raked his hands through his hair, making it stand on end.  

The distraction of his distress gave you a precious modicum of control, and you rose with effort.  

Monsieur Kim came to stand beside you, and though you couldn’t lean on him, you were grateful for the comfort of his mere presence.  “Explain this!” you demanded.

Boudreaux was quiet for a moment.  When he turned to you, his eyes were sad as he looked between you, and Monsieur Kim. “Oui, I knew her.”

“Did you own her?” Your voice was biting.

A sharp crack reverberated around the room, and your cheek stung.  You hadn’t even seen him approach.  Turning slowly, you met Boudreaux’s eyes, but his intense gaze didn’t falter under your own.  

Monsieur Kim stepped between you, and shoved.  Boudreaux’s body went flying across the room, and you gasped in surprise.  “Jonginah!”  He turned to you, his eyes dark, as he brought his hand to your reddened cheek.  When he went to touch it, however, it passed through, and he looked infinitely sad.  

Boudreaux lay in a crumpled heap in the corner, staring up at the ceiling, a tear slowly trailing down his cheek. Sighing, he shook his head.  “Own her?” He laughed ruefully. “Geneviève was une femme de couleur librée, as you well know.”

You looked past Jongin to where Boudreaux was still lying.  “I know she died early.  Did you…?”

His smile was bitter.  “After her husband, your arrière grand-père, died, I became her protecteur and, whatever you may think, we loved each other.  I wanted to spirit her away from this accursed place–with its unholy, abominable laws–take her North.  I wanted,” his jaw worked as he cried soundlessly.  “I wanted to marry her! I loved her, ma foi, how I did love her!  Mais, alas!”  He shook his head.  “One day, I was out riding, and my horse spooked and threw me.  I fell, and hit my head, and by the time they were able to bring me home, I was already dying.  Unbeknownst to me, my grandfather was…one of us.  We just always thought that he was possessed of a particularly hale constitution.  Of course, he couldn’t bear the thought of the death of his grandson, and so…” Boudreaux languidly waved a hand, then fell silent.

“And so?” Jongin prompted, turning his head slightly to Boudreaux, though his eyes never left your face.

Boudreaux sighed.  “And so.  He had never approved of plaçage, and so he left me to wake up…with Geneviève.”

You gasped, and Jongin turned back to you.  

“You know, ma chère.  You know what it’s like to awaken.  You know nothing except hunger.  You are nothing but hunger.  And so…”

“You killed her,” you whispered.

“‘You said I killed you–haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe–I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always–take any form–drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!’ ” Boudreaux finally turned to you, a mirthless smile grotesquely stretching his face, as tears ran down his cheeks.  “Eh, bien, you know what that’s like, n’est-ce pas?”

Jongin’s eyes were tragic, as they ran over your face.  

Overwhelmed, you shook your head.  Rushing forward, you snatched up Angeline into your arms, and then ran down the stairs, and out of that accursed house.

***

Upon reaching your home, and climbing the stairs, you collapsed against your door.  Cosette opened it,  gasping upon seeing you with Angeline in your arms.  “Mademoiselle!  Mademoiselle! She whispered, shaking you.

You didn’t have the strength to respond.  

Cosette dragged you both into the room, but before she could close the door, Jongin was there.  She covered her mouth just in time to muffle her scream.

“Cosette!  It is imperative that you listen to everything that I have to say!” he said.

She nodded, her eyes wide, as she tried not to panic.  

Jongin explained everything, and by the time he was done, Cosette had fallen to her knees beside you, gently trying to wrest Angeline from your arms.  

You growled, and she shrank back.  

Then, swallowing, and summoning her courage, she crawled forward once more, crooning, “Mademoiselle, it is your own Cosette.  Sweet mademoiselle, give Cosette le bébé, hein?”  She stroked your shoulder, and slowly, slowly pulled Angeline from your arms.  Lifting her, she left the room.

She returned shortly, walking around Jongin to crouch next to you.  

“Why are you back so soon?” Jongin asked her.  “I’ve already told you that she needs something to eat!”

“I understood, m’sieur,” she said distantly.

You could hear them talking, but the sound came from far away.  You stared listlessly.

“Well then, go and fetch your mistress something before falls into an even worse state!”

“M’sieur… Leave, s’il vous plâit.”

“What?!  Why would I–?  Oh, no!  No!  Absolutely not!  Do you even know what you’re suggesting?! She can’t control herself when she’s like this!”

Cosette stood, raising determined eyes up to his.  “She is my mistress, and I am, and will ever be, her loyal Cosette.”  She advanced upon him, and he retreated instinctively.  With one last look up into his eyes, Cosette set her jaw, and closed the door.

***

You were walking through your house, but no one was home.  Every door was open, and late afternoon sunlight shone through all the windows, making the house glow with a golden light.  Wandering from room to room, you looked for someone, but you weren’t sure whom.  Upon reaching your room, you found a young woman sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, slowly rocking, and crocheting.  When you drew closer, you saw that what she was creating what appeared to be the blanket that you normally kept over your bed.

She looked up at you and, despite her countenance, you felt no surprise, only calm.  She had your face.  Her skin was darker, the rich colour of warm honey, and the curls that tumbled over her shoulders, and down her back were tighter, but other than that, she could have been you.

Tilting her head, she smiled. Mon bébé.  Do you like your coverlet?  She didn’t speak, but you knew her words, all the same.

You nodded.  

Come have a seat by me, ma chère.

Sitting beside her on the floor, you rested your head upon her lap, your cheek against the familiar soft cotton of your blanket.  

I’m glad that you can finally hear me, chère.  I’ve been calling you pour un longtemps.  She began to lovingly stroke your hair.  I can’t stay long, mon coeur.  

You nodded again, sadly.  I know.

Understand, you mustn’t be too cross with Bastien.  He wasn’t always as you know him.  When we were young, he was…beautiful.  So gentle…kind…unfailingly courteous, to everyone–slave and free.  He never even raised his voice to his horse, much less a person.  Her face was infinitely sad.  He used to recite poetry.  He would spend entire afternoons reading stories of love to me.  However, years alone have twisted him, made him into something he was never meant to be.  You’ll have to free him, mon ange.  

Raising your head, you looked at her askance.  

She reached out to gently caress your curls. Listen.  Remember.  A sire’s blood can heal the first victim of his ward.  

Then, why didn’t he do that for you?

Her eyes were sad.  He didn’t know.  And even if he had, he wasn’t a murderer, much less of his own dear grand-père.  Even if he had known, I never would have asked it of him.  

Why do you tell me this?

Find your Jongin.

Jonginah is dead.  I killed him.  You were bitter.  

Not dead, chère.  

He sleeps.

You understood. Of course you did. This was scary. Even now as you stood in front of the spinning dryer watching the clothes tumble around and around inside the hot grey box the direction your mind drifted was to him.

You could still feel the warmth of his hands still on your hips. You could still see the smirk on his face and that look in his eyes as he pulled you roughly by the knee and slipped a firm thigh directly between your legs as you both moved in time to the music that played around your bodies.

Even worse than the physical effect he had on your body was the pang you felt in your heart when you saw the pain and the hurt he had been through. Perhaps you had been better equipped to handle the pain. Sure, you had been hurt in the past, but the scars had eventually healed themselves once you accepted the fact that sometimes things just don’t work out. Sometimes disappointment is inevitable, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t ever love again. In fact, the fullness you felt inside your heart when you looked at the smiling face of your daughter was evidence that you still had the capacity for love. And you would be damned if you would run scared from it just because you had been burned in the past.

The dryer beeped and the load of clothing slowed to a stop behind the glass door.

You pulled the door open and stared at the top of the pile and you saw it. Scrawled in faded black marker, barely legible the letters on that shirt that you shamelessly had not yet returned to him.

‘Kim Jongin’

It was a soft shirt and he hadn’t yet asked for it back. How many wash cycles had you seen it go through, each time telling yourself this would be the time you’d return it to him and apologize for keeping it for so long.

The clothes were in the basket and you reached for Nari’s hand for the long trek up the stairs. And at the top of the landing, instead of turning right as you usually did, you took a left and you found yourself standing in front of his door.

Nari jumped in excitement and you knocked lightly against the wood.

After a few breaths you heard locks click on the inside and the door was pulled open.

“Oh, uhh…” he stammered when he saw you and you recognized the awkward nervous expression on his face. You’d seen it a few times by now. When Nina or Nari would rush up behind him and push him against you as you walked and his hand would brush against yours. His cheeks would redden and he would grow flustered and shy.

His attention was drawn below to the child at your side that trembled with excitement.

“Oh hi Nari,” he said with a wide beautiful smile, “Nina is in her room if you want to go play.” Your hand was empty in an instant and he stepped aside to let her pass. When he turned back to face you you’d already pulled the shirt off the top of your laundry basket and tossed it in his arms.

He must have been surprised because you heard the small grunt of surprise as he quickly caught it. Of course he wasn’t only sexy, sweet, graceful, and thoughtful, but he also had fantastic reflexes too.

“Sorry it took so long to return it,” you said after a moment and his eyes were down on the shirt he held in one hand. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he looked back up at you and quickly reached out to grab the basket of your clean laundry from your arms.

He silently turned his back, taking an assortment of your clean clothes, including several pairs of bras and underwear deep into his home without so much as a word or explanation.

“Uhh–” you could feel the panic bubbling up to the surface? “J-Jong–Mr.Kim that’s my laundry.”

“Are you still calling me Mr. Kim?” You heard him mumble from far ahead of you in his apartment and you quickly rushed inside when you saw him plop down on his living room floor, sitting cross legged with your laundry basket in front of him.

On the very top of the pile, just below where his shirt had sat so warm and grey and cozy was a pair of your panties, which he instantly reached for and folded in half, laying them on the floor next to his knee. You felt an overwhelming urge to dig yourself a hole right here in his living room and disappear into the center of the earth. Kim Jongin just touched your panties. Sure, they were clean, but they weren’t even fancy panties. They were extremely unsexy cotton things that had seen at least six months worth of washing. Why was he doing this? Couldn’t he not do this and save you the mortification? Oh god, what if he found the single pair of thong underwear you owned? Did you wash those this time? You tried to recall if you wore them recently and you saw him looking down into that damn basket again.

He dug through the basket, reaching for another item of clothing he came out with a shirt of yours which he quickly folded and sat on the other side of him.

“Come and help me, dont just stand there.” Were you just standing there? Honestly you were mortified, he was folding your sports bra in half and when you looked at his face he didn’t look the least bit bothered by it. His face was as blank as could be and you pulled your mouth shut and forced yourself to examine him a little closer. Was he really unaffected by this? By you?

Perhaps that attraction you thought you saw in the small touches and the glances and the staring, not to mention the fucking dancing, perhaps you had imagined all of that.

You plopped yourself down in a bit of a huff and began grabbing at items from the basket to fold. You both worked through the stack quickly and as he carefully placed the neatly folded stacks of clothing you saw him reach for the grey shirt you had just returned to him, fold it quickly and place it right on the top of your basket of laundry.

“You can keep this. It looks good on you.” He said it quietly and looked down at his empty hands that were suddenly out of something to fold.

The tiny, nonchalant way he eked out that compliment as if he hadn't’ just floored you again with his words made you want to scream. And clap, and laugh and probably do a dance that would embarrass you. Yet you used every bit of self control in your body not to react to it.

Jongin said it looked good on you. Jongin looked at you in his shirt, with his name on it, and he thought ‘this looks good on her.’ You could feel your arms vibrating with the effort it took to not grab him by the collar and shake him because, god damnit, that shirt looked good on you!

He wrung his hands together, staring down at those hands and you watched his face closely until it finally dawned on you that something felt off. Despite the small celebration happening inside your own head, Jongin seemed to be down about something. If not down, then definitely different than the usual casual, happy go lucky man who was as comfortable around you as your own family was.

Something was definitely wrong with him and the usual carefree way he watched you and focused almost obsessively on your face as you spoke was gone. He was avoiding your eyes, or, your face entirely. Everytime he would look up into your eyes it was quick and he was looking down in an instant.

“Jongin,” you said quietly, both trying to get him to look at you and trying his name out on your lips for once.

He looked up at you and all at once you felt overwhelmed when he didn’t drop his eyes quickly.

He swallowed and you stared at his face, keeping up the eye contact for as long as you could stand.

“Hmm?” He said in a soft hum and you saw a single eyebrow dance on his forehead.

“I’m sorry if I did something to make you uncomfortable.” You said quietly and his eyes widened a tiny bit before he bit down on his bottom lip and exhaled a breath through his nose.

He shook his head and you saw his countenance change as his brows knitted together and he wrinkled his nose.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m just–” you could see the struggle he was facing with his words as plain as day on his face. It was no wonder he couldn’t get them out with the war he was fighting inside his head.

He didn’t finish his sentence. And you felt as if you were holding your breath as you waited for what felt like ages in absolute silence.

The silence felt all consuming. Part of you wanted to embrace it. There was so little silence that you had in your life that the moment you realized it, you had already been swallowed up by it.

Your mind was drifting when you felt it. A bit of warmth, the feeling of the flesh of another human being touching you. Laid warmly over the back of your hand you felt the soft warmth of his palm as he laid his hand directly over yours and yet, the wandering in your mind was distracting because this house, this place was entirely too silent.

“Do you hear that?” You asked him quietly and his eyes seemed to wander over your face for a few passes until you saw a switch turn and he sat up straighter, instantly more alert.

“It’s too quiet,” he said and he was instantly jumping to his feet. You were on his heels, instantly and acutely aware that as a parent, there was one truth you always lived by. The absolute worst situations always came from silence.

He was moving toward the bedroom where you knew Nari and Nina were playing noisily only seconds before and you stood just behind when you saw him peek his head through the doorway as his eyes searched the room.

His wide eyes relaxed and he exhaled a noisy sigh of relief at the same time as you reached the doorway and peered inside.

You saw a bit of a mess, but honestly nothing amiss other than a few crayon marks on the wood floor that a magic eraser would get right off. As if they noticed your presence, both girls looked up from their coloring session with wide questioning eyes before their focus turned back down to their pages.

“Hey, what are you drawing?” Nina was closest to you and you could see a few brightly colored stick figures linked together by their hands.

“My family,” she said with a shrug and she was giving the tallest figure a brown hairstyle that looked somewhat like the hair on Jongin’s head. As you dropped down to your knees you got a closer look and counted the figures.

Four. Two little girls, a dad and another person who didn’t have any distinguishing features yet. Armed with her crayon you watched as she began shading in hair, adding a dress and a shirt to give you the idea that the person she drew was a woman.

“And who is this?” You said as you pointed down to the obvious woman who was holding on to Jongin’s hand in her picture.

From the corner of your eye you caught the way Jongin seemed to stiffen and cross his arms over his chest as he stood, still at the doorway, very clearly looking down a the picture his daughter drew. He was silent as a statue as he waited for Nina’s response.

“That’s mommy,” she said with a smile and you bit down on your bottom lip, a soft sigh came from Jongin at the door and when you looked up into his face you could see the tension in his face. He chewed on his lip roughly and his eyebrows looked furrowed, over troubled eyes.

You couldn’t imagine the kind of pain that he must be feeling right now. Of course Nina would want to include her mother in her drawing of her family, yet the longer you looked at her drawing, the more puzzled you felt. In her drawing, the other little girl had long braids that looked exactly like the braids Nari wore right now and you pointed to the other little girl.

“Nari, my sister.” Nina said with her voice full of confidence and you looked back at the mother in her drawing.

“So if Nari is your sister, who is Mommy?” You frowned slightly when you realized that you wore a blue skirt and pink top just like the woman in her drawing.

“When you and my daddy get married, I’ll get a mommy and a sister.” She said clearly and you heard a small cough coming from the man who stood at the doorway. When you looked up you only caught his back as he left the room entirely.

You laid a warm hand over her head and smiled a tense smile at her face. She merely smiled and kept on working on her picture.

Where had he gone? Was he upset? Was he filled with a sick kind of hope in your belly at the mere possibility that Nina’s image for her future might come true? Or was that just you?

You left the room, heading back toward the living room to find him and as you passed the darkened hallway that led to the other bedroom you felt the warmth of a hand that reached out for yours.

Your feet stopped moving and you felt a very sudden rush of nerves. His hand shifted and moved lower, moving long fingers further inside the palm of your hand and your heart thumped noisily inside your ears as you closed your eyes and willed your nerves to settle down. When he spoke the sound was quiet and he whispered out your name. Not “Nari’s mommy” or some other polite form of your identity but your name, spoken with his tongue, in that soft whisper of his that sent goosebumps over your skin.

“C-Can I talk to you?”

He gave a small pull and you let your legs carry you into that darkened hallway that he had determined needed to be the setting of this conversation and as your eyes adjusted you could just barely make out the pinkness you were certain you saw in his cheeks.

The space in this hallway wasn’t exactly expansive and with his hand still gripping yours, you definitely felt the warmth from his body. The warmth you saw in his eyes was doing things to send warmth through your chest as you looked into his eyes and waited for him to say what he brought you here to say.

After what felt like years of those brown eyes he finally closed them and exhaled a deep breath from his lungs and gave in to whatever gravity he had been fighting. He leaned his back against the wall of that hallway and dropped your hand that he had been just barely holding.

His hands rose and he rubbed them roughly over his face, pressing against his closed eyelids with his fingertips you heard a soft groan of frustration from behind those hands.

“Jongin, are you okay?” Frankly his silence was going on for too long and you were beginning to get desperate to get to the bottom of what was actually going on with him.

He shook his head behind his hands.

“No,” he said. It was muffled and immediately after he said the word you heard a small humorless laugh. It sounded hopeless, just like the sound of someone giving up on something.

“I’m…worried,” he said and finally he dropped those hands from his face and looked into your eyes. “That Nina is growing very attached to you, that she…loves you.”

You stared into his eyes, his captive audience, both by his gravity and by the enormous potential of his words. While the influx in his voice gave you the impression that he might not be done talking, the silence that followed gave you pause.

You swallowed away the dryness you felt in your mouth and nervously chewed on the inside of your cheek as you considered his words.

Was that it? His little girl felt attached to you, the first maternal figure she had ever been exposed to for longer than a week, and he was surprised that she clung to you suddenly? What was he so worried about? You were a mother too. You knew better than to pack up your bags and leave her life the way his ex had left him. The worry you saw in those eyes blinked at you, begging for you to reassure him, to remove the nagging splinter that ached in his fingertip every time something brushed up against it.

“Jongin, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I’m just as attached to Nina as she is to me.”

It was the truth. You hoped he could feel your sincerity in your words because they were true. During this time together, you had grown to care for Nina, even going so far as to resent the silence of your home when you couldn’t hear her laughter mingling with Nari’s.Everything about Nina felt comfortable and right and you couldn’t quite imagine a world where she wasn’t a permanent fixture in your home.

“And what about me?” He said suddenly, interrupting your thoughts with his quiet question that hit you like the kickback of a shotgun. You could almost feel the blow inside your chest and vibrating inside your ear drums. He couldn’t possibly mean what you thought he meant with that question.

The blast echoed for too long, taking any possible response straight out of your mouth and tossing it across the room with what was left of your sanity.

“W-What?” Your head felt like it might be spinning and you looked down suddenly when you felt his fingertips brush lightly against the back of your hand. When you looked back up, he had taken a step closer to you.

“What about me?” He said softly, and he was moving again, another step, closer to where you stood you could feel the warmth of his chest against yours. The look in his eyes was different now. This wasn’t the worry you had seen at the start of this hushed conversation in this dark hallway. This look was different. Raw and vulnerable you looked over his face, noticing the way his lips hung open, pouty and pink from where he had been chewing nervously on them earlier.

Your eyes were on those lips when he spoke again. “What if I’m falling in love with you?”

The world stopped spinning. In fact, everything stopped, your breathing, your heart beating, the past and the future, the heartache, the pain, the fucking laundry and that drawing made by a six year old who didn’t know that despite how much you were allowed to wish for them inside your heart, you simply didn’t say them outloud unless you wanted to scare them away.

“F-Falling in l-love?” Had you just said something? You must have because you felt the warm exhale of his breath against your face and his eyes weren’t on your eyes anymore. He looked down at your mouth for a whole five seconds, you counted.

When he looked back up into your eyes you saw him nod his head. The movement was microscopic, just like the gradual way he learned into you, and inched his fingertips slowly along the palm of your hand until you felt those fingers slip in between your own.

“I’m scared,” he said against your face and you felt the puff of a small laugh from his chest with his honest confession.

“You scare the shit out of me,” he said with all traces of his smile gone and he was so close. He was right there, even if you had gone crazy and somehow didn’t want this, there was no escape from those eyes, those lips and his other hand, not the one that was seducing you with mere fingertips, but the other one that had now reached out for you, slipping along your waist to the small of your back, you took a small step into him when he pulled lightly against you. He constricted that strong arm and you moved into him, feeling the overwhelming flood of his body heat over yours.

“Language, Jongin,” you said quietly because you couldn’t help it. He had always been a stickler for language, being a teacher and all, he always said that it was best for him not to form those habits, lest he accidentally curse in class in front of the kids.

You saw the small smile on his lips a second before he leaned in and you felt the softness of those lips press up against your own.

With your eyes closed, the softness of his lips felt magnified.

He was motionless for one, two, three seconds before you felt the movement in his mouth and his lips parted, slipping around and over your top lip, you responded with your own movement.

When your mouth opened for him, his hands around you tightened and he pulled you harder into his body. When the tip of his tongue teased against yours and the deep breath he inhaled from your mouth brought with it a fresh wave of desire, the smoothness of his skin below his shirt made your fingers crave for more.

Your ears caught a sound.

A gasp in stereo and he heard it too, instantly pulling his lips away, he turned his head, angling his body away from the light to face that darkened hallway, you saw him reach his hand up to wipe the wetness from his lips.

You risked a look.

You saw two wide eyed little girls standing in the hallway just outside of Nina’s bedroom. Hands held and matching expressions of surprise on their faces.

“Uhh,” you managed to say, your voice sounded too thick for an honest chat with your children, you heard the man next to you clear his throat, probably in response to the sound of your own voice more than a need on his end.

He turned around, facing the children and you could see the pinkness in his face and the tremble in his hands as he crossed them over his chest for a moment, lifting a hand again to his lips, you saw him tap lightly against them.

“You see girls, when you get older–uhh” he said in an awkward sounding voice and his eyebrows furrowed as he winced at himself. Was he stuck? Did he actually have a plan here or was he just winging it? Because this didn’t feel very well thought out to you. He looked at you with those wide awkward eyes and you opened your own lips to try and come up with something.

“Uhh, when two adults..l-like each other–” your own face changed, once those words left your lips you felt the wince that you were sure matched the expression you saw on his face.

You couldn’t do this. You weren’t about to have this conversation. Nope. No way. You stubbornly zipped your own lips shut and looked back at him with a small shrug that told him exactly how stumped you were about what to say to somehow explain what they just saw.

“Just…don’t worry about it. You’ll understand when you are older.” He said with an air of finality and he waved a hand at them, shooing them away, trying to get them to just drop the whole thing entirely.

All at once, and as if they were very much of like mind, their expressions changed from shock and you saw the beginnings of smiles forming on their small faces.

They turned to face each other and instantly embraced, jumping up and down with excitement and laughter.

“Yay! We’re going to be sisters!” You heard from one of them, but in the jumble of laughter and dancing you weren’t sure who said it.

The girls jumped and laughed their way back into Nina’s room and you stood frozen in that hallway next to the man who was also frozen in place next to you. From the corner of your eye you watched him. He looked ahead where the two girls had disappeared, looking pink faced and shellshocked.

A buzzing that you heard drew his attention down and he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, looked down at the number on display for longer than necessary before he quickly left your side. You couldn’t help but notice the look of tension you saw on the face that you had become so accustomed to.

You couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong when he went into his darkened bedroom and answered the call with a tense ‘Hello’ that didn’t at all sound friendly.

The door was closed, but you heard it. You could hear the unmistakeable angry tones, too quiet to understand the words, but the tone. He sounded nothing like the sweet, warm Jongin you had grown to love.

The talking stopped abruptly and he didn’t come out, not right away.

You waited, leaning against the wall of the hallway. You waited until you thought he might never come out. Finally your curiosity and your concern for him grew to overwhelming amounts and you approached his closed bedroom door with the smallest knock you could manage against the wood.

There was a breath’s pause before you heard a faint word from him.

“Yeah?” he whispered out followed by a cough.

“Jongin, can I come in?” You asked against the wood, your face against the seam where the door met the wall and you heard a bit of silence again.

“Yeah.” You heard and you turned the knob, pushing the door open you could see that the room was still dark. Your eyes adjusted easily, having spent enough time in the darkened hallway and you saw him sitting on the floor at the foot of his bed with his darkened cell phone in his hand and his face angled down.

His eyes were open but he was looking down between his knees at the floor.

When you reached where he sat you sat beside him, resting your weight against his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said quietly and you shook your head, refusing his silly apology for being upset about whatever just happened in that phone call.

“Nina’s mother is in town and is coming to pick her up for the weekend tomorrow.” He had a defeated, monotone quality to his voice as he spoke, as if somehow he could control the feelings inside of him by controlling his own voice. You nodded your head silently, to let him know you were there, and leaned your head against his shoulder as you snuck an arm around his waist from behind.

You saw a movement in his face when he turned his head in your direction and looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

“She–” he said, interrupting his own sentence by biting down on his upper lip. When he let go his hands were rubbing over his face and he was speaking again. “She will be okay. She’s gone with her before. The worst that happens is she bribes her with all of the candy and presents she can afford and sends her back with her head full of stories.”

You nodded your head against, still leaning against his shoulder with your eyes wide on his profile.

He was talking to reassure himself more than you. What did you know about what Nina’s mother did when she took her?

“She will be okay,” you reassured and you knew it was probably true, but what you really hoped was that Jongin would be okay.

The next morning your phone beeped with a text from your ex husband’s assistant letting you know the time she would be around to retrieve Nari.

You gave your little girl a hug and a kiss, zipped up her backpack and made her promise to behave herself and you closed the door to the silence of your apartment. This was normal to you by now and no longer felt that calm after the storm sensation that you often felt right after the divorce. When the wounds were still fresh enough to fill you with resentment at having to share your little girl with that man. Eventually you made peace with the arrangement after a few times of Nari coming back with surprising tales of trips to the zoo, or the movies; things he never did with her when you were married. Things you always wished he would find time in his busy schedule for. But now that he had limited time with her, you noticed the small changes in their relationship that seemed to benefit Nari greatly.

Not long after your door closed and you made your way around your home gathering up loose toys and the occasional sock left on the floor when you heard a soft knock against your front door.

You rushed to the door thinking that perhaps Nari forgot something but when you pulled it open, looking down for her face you saw someone’s knees. You followed a path straight up, lingering on the two familiar hands that hung limply at his side and the toned arms that attached to those hands disappeared under the short sleeves of his shirt.

Jongin was standing at your door and his face was grim. He blinked slowly and wore a severe pout on his lips that seemed to cover his entire head in a dark cloudy mood that you were sure meant that Nina was gone with her mother and he had been sulking alone since she left.

You stepped aside, matching his frown and he stepped inside, removed his shoes and walked silently through your home toward your living room where he found your couch. You heard a groan and he let himself fall face first into the cushions and you held your palm flat over your face to suppress you reaction. He took up the whole thing, and rolled onto his side with both of his arms wrapped over his head and he let out a long sigh.

You had no idea he had such a capacity for dramatics like this, but strangely, the display seemed to fit him quite well. You risked a few steps closer to where he had deposited himself on your sofa, having his pity party of one, and you were sure he heard your approach because you heard him sigh again and mumble out some words you could just barely make out.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you were sure he said after replying the whiney sounds in your head a few times and you carefully positioned yourself on the tiny spot of sofa that was left just next to his head.

The couch dipped some and he lifted an arm from his face, glancing at you through half opened eyes. You smiled down at him and he closed his eyes again as he shifted himself. You felt him moving up higher, placing his head on your lap, you relaxed into the couch and let him wiggle until he got comfortable.

His arms moved around your back and you felt a pull as he pushed his face into your belly with the smallest moan.

You felt the moan vibrate inside your body and strangely it took a weird pathway up your spine and tingled at the back of your neck.

Why did he have to make a sound like that? Why did the weight of his head on your thighs and the breath spreading heat against your belly have to make your mind wander in that direction? Couldn’t you just comfort a friend without immediately recalling the heated kiss you shared with him in his home yesterday?

You felt powerless against this man and you lifted your fingers to run through his hair slowly. Lightly at first, you used your fingertips to comb a path away from his forehead down his scalp down to the nape of his neck. You moved slowly, starting at the top again when you reached his nape, over and over and you could feel the firmness of his arms that held you tight against his face relax some. You could feel the steady breathing into your belly slow down and change after a while and you figured he must have fallen asleep.

You wondered if he slept at all last night, with all the worrying about today he surely had been doing.

He shifted his head in your lap, giving you a small glimpse of his pretty face and you saw the lines between his furrowed, worried brows. With your fingertip you trailed lightly over his eyebrow, traveling down the length to the edge, down to his cheekbone and you watched his face relax under your touch.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” You whispered into the space below you and he inhaled a slow breath.

You heard two small hums from back of his throat as he sounded out his response to you. No. He hadn’t. He also didn’t seem to be asleep right now, just comfortable in your lap with your hands on him.

“Because you were worried about Nina?” You whispered.

He inhaled again and made the same sound as before, two small hums, answering no to your question.

Your focus remained down at his face and your fingers stopped the brushing through his hair as you pondered his confusing response. What other thoughts could jongin have running through his mind that would interrupt his sleep other than Nina’s visit with her mother.

“Why couldn’t you sleep, Jongin?” Your whisper wasn’t as soft now that you knew he wasn’t asleep and you saw him squeeze his eyes closed tighter with the breath he took.

“Because.” he said with his eyes closed.

Was he really going to answer this way? Both you and him knew that the word ‘because’ was a cop-out of an answer. You knew he wouldn’t accept that as a response to a question in his class and you definitely wouldn’t accept it as a response to a question you asked your daughter.

“Because why, Jongin?” You prodded and he wrinkled his nose and peeked at you quickly out of one eye before he glued them shut again.

He shifted again, hiding his face against you again you felt the hot sigh against your skin underneath your shirt.

“Because of the way you say my name.” He mumbled against the fabric. “And the way you dance with me.”

You closed your own eyes as you took in his words. Their impact hit you hard, like an earthquake and you could feel that familiar humming inside your chest that made breathing feel difficult to do smoothly. You felt like gasping for oxygen when he spoke but you settled for the tiny inhale you took as you tried to steady yourself.

You felt his arm move behind you and he opened a hand and laid his palm over your back. With a small wiggle you felt him nuzzle his nose into you and he let out another sound from the back of his throat as he breathed in deep.

“Because of the way you look in my shirt.” His hand was moving and you felt warm fingertips push your shirt out of the way and his fingers danced against the skin of your back.

Your own breathing felt out of control very suddenly as he hit you with another aftershock. He breathed you in again.

“Because of the way you smell, and the way you taste.” He was moving now, you felt him rolling and pushing off of you and his other hand moved to hook fingers just under your knee as he pulled you into him–pulled you below him where he laid on the couch and the movement was swift enough for you to gasp out loud. Despite being underneath him now you could feel the tension in his arm muscles as he supported his weight just above you. The move surprised you enough to make you open your eyes and the view, just below his warm body was nothing short of breathtaking. How you would survive this man you would never know, but you felt completely overwhelmed by the view you suddenly had.

He sat up on his knees, pushing away from you. His eyes were open and he looked down at you. In those eyes you could see it, this was desire. You weren’t the only victim of the earthquake and he must have decided that you weren’t positioned quite right because you felt strong hands reach just below your thighs on both sides and he pulled you down, closer to him. Closer to where he kneeled in front of you and when you settled, you realized he was nestled right between your parted legs now.

Hot hands ran slowly up your thighs and you could feel warmth spreading over your head, down your chest, flooding through your belly and landing like a lightening bolt.

“Please tell me you want me as badly as I want you, because I’m going crazy here.” You couldn’t quite form words, but you nodded your head and he was falling into you as you pulled the stretchy fabric of the shirt he wore over his body until he got the message enough to come to you .

You needed his lips again. That tease of a kiss last night wasn’t nearly enough for you and he reached for you with his mouth, covering your lips with his own you felt the instant heat in that kiss. The desire that flooded through his mouth into yours felt like a fever consuming the both of you. His mouth sucked against your lips, your tongue, his teeth nibbled and those hips pushed in between yours legs. You could feel the heat and the stiffness between his legs below the layers of clothing he wore.

“Jongin,” you whined into his hair. The ceiling fan blew strands of his brown hair against your face and he was somewhere lower, his mouth tasting the skin below your chin, along your jawline and when he bit down lightly against your earlobe you sighed out a quiet whimper.

“Hmm?” He hummed though lips pressed against your neck.

“Too many clothes.” You heard a small giggle from him. The first hint of brevity since he’d arrived and he giggled as you whined and complained. When you squeezed your thighs around his waist and wiggled your hips, you heard a low grunt from him before he was pushing up from you again. This time he rose further, all the way up in the sky on those long legs you frowned from all the way down on that couch and he smiled wide.

He reached for you, his hands interlocking fingers between yours and you felt the pull to your feet. You gave into him. It always came too easily, giving in to Jongin.

“Take me to your bed,” he said with a small tug and you stumbled against his chest. His hands let go of your fingers and griped your face gently and you were pulled into him again for another kiss.

“I want to be naked and surrounded by your smell–” his lips returned, needier and more demanding this time, “–I want to smell you on my skin for days.”

If he wanted smell, you wanted skin. Your hands slipped below his shirt again, fingertips gliding along smoothness until you pushed it up higher and higher and suddenly the thing was gone completely. You felt greedy with your exploration of the expansive plains of Kim Jongin. Of course the guy would have well defined abs. That was so like him. The leanness of his body bent and flexed below your prodding fingertips and he giggled when you reached his flank, clearly ticklish in the tempting space around his ribcage. You had been traveling through your home as you explored him, shedding garments as you moved until you felt only the heat of his bare skin and the cool softness of your bed sent a shiver up your back as you were warmed from above by his body heat.

You felt other things as well. With each pass his lips made across your skin, there was the wetness of his tongue or the nibble of his teeth.

Was this real? You gasped out a tiny whine when you felt him playfully bite down somewhere over your thigh and he moved to the other side and did the same. Hot hands ran over your legs and you looked down at him through your half closed eyelids. You felt too affected by him already and the nervous anticipation of this flooded through your consciousness like a tsunami. You felt shaky yet certain. You wanted this, and he definitely seemed to want this and, when his hands slowed near that spot just between your legs, you felt the edge of his finger make a pass against you.

His smile was long gone, yet his eyes remained glued on your face and when he moved his hand again, making yet another approach you felt as if you might just die from anticipation. The build up alone was enough to make you pass out from how difficult it was to get enough oxygen into your lungs. He leaned his head down, placing a small kiss against the inside of your knee. You felt the pad of his fingertip slip inside your wetness and his lips moved higher up your thigh. Something bumped lightly against your clit and your legs trembled when you felt wetness between yours legs. You couldn’t watch anymore. You were already too worked up by the time you felt the soft warmth of his tongue between your folds and way he worked his tongue against your clit made you feel like an unstable rickety shack trying to hold up to a hurricane. The suction from his mouth coupled with the flicking of his tongue quickly made you lose your mind and when he hummed against your skin you reached for his hair, gripping tightly with both hands you could feel yourself falling falling falling into that bottomless pit that was Kim Jongin.

You landed hard with a scream out, a tightening of your muscles around his head, a clenching of your hands inside his hair, and a trembling in your body that radiated from the inside. He was relentless. He didn’t stop until every last bit of trembling in your body quieted down and his mouth changed direction, leaving behind your sensitive spent core for your hips, your navel, that spot just below the fold of your breast and in between them.

You were breathing much too fast and the hand you placed just over your chest did nothing to slow it down. He was too much. Everything about him was too much for you and when you peeked a single eye open to look at him his eyes were on your face. His lips parted and the tip of his tongue peeked out over his bottom teeth. He was breathing just as fast as you were, yet from the glance between his legs you could clearly see how unsatisfied he still was. He was rigid, a stiffness that matched the firmness you saw in his tensed muscles and you sat up suddenly as you reached for him.

Perhaps you pushed a bit too hard and the grunt of surprise you heard from his chest as he fell over onto the bed was evidence of the force you used but you didn’t care. the bed was soft and he would be yours now.

You crawled over him and his wide eyes closed tightly the second you reached for his hardness. You heard a sinful moan when you squeezed a hand around the base of him and the shuddering gasping sound he made when your lips made contact with his head was encouragement enough to last a lifetime.

His hands flew to his face and before he covered the beautiful expression, you saw parted lips and quick breaths escaping through the grimace. He was struggling for control nearly instantly and you smiled because dammit, this was fun. His taste was salty, manly, and the smoothness of him slipping inside of your mouth, over your tongue as he tensed his thighs below the palm of your hand made you want to pull. Suction and wetness and a small moan and you felt strong hands grip you hard as he sat up. He held you by your shoulders and when you let go the look on his face was nearly manic.

“I swear to God, if you make me cum before I get inside of you I’m going to lose it.” The intensity you saw in his eyes matched the look you saw sometimes when he danced. It was concentration and determination and he pried you off of him with those strong muscles, you were moved carefully and placed onto the bed next to him. As soon as you were far away from him, and he was out of danger you tried once more to reach for him. The temptation was so great, he was right there. A tiny tick of his tongue as he caught you and you felt him reach for your hands and pull them up and away from him.

You pouted and you saw it, the smirk. That sexy fucking smirk that sent chills down your spine and a fresh jolt between your legs and he switched his hands, easily holding both of yours with a single hand you felt him between your legs. His body weight and his heat moved over you and with a knee you felt him push your legs.

His hips rolled and you felt him bump in between as he pushed. Definitely not inside, definitely nowhere near, but the small brush felt significant. Significant enough for you to wrap your legs around his waist and pull and he gave in, pushing harder between your legs, you knew he could feel your wetness against his hardness now. All he had to do was slip inside, yet he rolled with his hips again. The action made the muscles in his body flex and stretch and you felt mesmerized by him watching him while simultaneously impatient with his teasing.

“Jongin, please–” you pulled him into you again with your legs and his eyes were on your face. He gave a small smile, much too innocent for what he was doing to you and yet he still didn’t give in. How could he be so strong? What was this self control? Was it merely for the sake of teasing you or was he actually going to make you beg?

“Please what?” A single eyebrow lifted and you wiggled your hands within his strong grip.

“Do it,” you said through gritted teeth and he dropped suddenly. You felt his breath against your neck, his hand released your wrists and moved to hold your face and lower, slipping over the sensitive skin around your neck with featherlight fingertips.

“Do what, love? What do you want me to do to you?” He pushed his hips again, lining up more you felt him slide within your folds, bumping against your clit and you gasped.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He was moving his hand down between your bodies now and you nodded your head, unable to hold the eye contact. He was just too much.

You felt the head of his dick teasing against your entrance and he slowly pushed and pushed and you felt him fill you. How long had it been? You felt the stretch and you gasped at the fullness and he held very still with his arms around your shoulders and his face at your neck.

He suddenly came to life, pulled himself out of you and pushed in again, still too slow, still too fast, still too much. Time stood still in the moments when Jongin was inside of you, and when he pulled out and pushed in again his mouth found yours. The pace of his hips quickened and the dizziness overcame you in an instant. You felt your walls tightening and you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him inside harder. His pace was less steady, more shallow and the slickness you felt in his skin from the sweat made the heat rise in the bed to near uncomfortable levels. Not that you cared, you were lost in him. He was lost in you and you half heard a whispered question.

“F-Fuck, I’m – can I cum inside of you?” You nodded as your brain remembered the pills you took daily, and you held him tight, refusing to budge when he tried to pull away and you felt your own tightening inside as you cried out. He was trembling with you, falling with you, crying out with you and he trembled and shuddered, pulsing inside as he came.

He released the breath he was holding and dropped closer to you for a moment. His breathing hard and heavy, you felt the heat building to sticky levels as you tried to catch your own breath.

Giving in to gravity he rolled off of you, slipped out and you winced at the mess that you felt between your legs. Before you could process too much of the discomfort he was wrapping arms around you tightly as he pulled you close to him. You felt his heat on you again and you gave up trying to cool down anytime soon because his mouth was back. His kisses moved over you much slower this time, sweeter and with a sleepier rhythm. The softness of his lips gave easily to your own and you could feel yourself falling harder and harder with each kiss.

Eventually he stilled and you could feel the weight of his arms as they relaxed their tight hold on you. You recalled the tiredness you saw in his face as he snuggled up against your belly on the couch earlier and seeing him falling asleep in front of you made you smile.

Perhaps you could just lay here with him. Perhaps the house cleaning and the laundry could wait. Perhaps you only needed the weight of his arms around you, that coating of sticky warmth that covered your skin was beginning to cool off under the breeze from the ceiling fan and you actually began to feel cool. You stretched, careful not to wake him from the quiet sleep he was now in, and you reached a few fingers out trying to grab the blanket that laid in a mess at the foot of the bed.

It was just within your grasp and you pulled, feeling the sudden blanket of warmth cascade over both of your bodies and you watched his face carefully as he furrowed his eyebrows in his sleep, then relaxed with a contented smile.

“Can you be mine?” He said in a half asleep whisper and you looked into his face for signs that he might have been talking in his sleep.

When his eyes opened you looked back at him with wide eyes for a moment before you realized what he had asked you.

As if you had any other answer in the world for him. You always gave in to Kim Jongin too easily. Your bright smile and exaggerated nod of your head was all he needed.

The contented sigh before he drifted back off to sleep was all you needed.

–

The next time you heard those words from his lips was at least a year later. Despite the months of dating, the dances, the movies, the dinner dates and trips to the zoo with your girls. Despite the chicken, all of that chicken that you were sure you would soon grow tired of, yet somehow never quite did, despite the familiarity and the love declarations and the kisses, despite everything that signified the love you had with Kim Jongin, you still saw it in his eyes.

It was that look again. The look of shyness and uncertainty behind those beautiful brown eyes was back and this man who oozed confidence in all aspects of his life had the nerve to look nervous with you.

You wanted to laugh as you looked down at the ring he held out in his hand. You wanted to jump and dance and throw a party, but more than anything you wanted to grab him and shake him because of course!

“Of course I will, Jongin!” You reached for him before you reached for the ring and his face relaxed and you kissed away every bit of doubt you saw on that face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two little heads peeking around the edge of the doorway. They both wore knowing smiles and as Jongin slipped the ring onto your finger you saw him reach into the pocket of his slacks and pull something out.

When he opened his hand you saw two necklaces each with its own twin heart pendants and you looked up into his face to see the sweet smile you loved so much.

“This one is for you to give to Nina.” He lifted one of the chains and dropped it into your open hand and you instantly understood. “This is mine, for Nari.” He said softly against your ear and you tried your hardest to keep your emotions in check. Again and again, his thoughtfulness surprised you.

So you both took your places and knelt in front of the girls as you asked for their blessings.

Their answers?

The rush that comes with the chase is always something that you enjoy, especially while you sit on the top of the seats with Jongin driving like a bat out of Hell and the sounds of sirens following behind you. “Hurry baby, they are catching up.” You tease as you pull the pin from the grenade you have in your hand and throw it behind you. The explosion makes you laugh loudly as you look back and see the mess you made – some cops needing to move quickly to avoid crashing. “Oopsie.”

“You are a little riot, sweet cheeks.” Jongin looks up at you and pulls you down so he can kiss you, swerving dangerously over the road but you don’t care, neither of you do, this is the rush that you crave, need, thrive off like a crack addict looking for its next hit. “How much did we manage to get before they bought in the heat?”

You lean over the back of the seat, Jongin playfully slaps your ass in your tight little shorts as you squeal in delight. “The bags are both full, Nini” You sing as you sit in your seat and kiss his cheek. “We are rich.”

“I’ll buy you anything you want, baby girl. Name it – it’s yours.”

“Oh, pookie!” You wrap your arms around him, cooing and nearly causing him to run into a pedestrian.

You blast the music, laying your head on Jongin’s lap as he speeds through the streets and rests your feet on the door, kicking off your shoes – even though they go flying away and you’ll never get them back. “So, we got the cash but now, how are we gonna get away? Planning on skipping town and hitting the next place?” You look up at your husband, your partner in crime – literally.

You and Jongin had been dating for a while before either of you decided that a life of crime was going to be your way of making money. He worked as a builder and you were that sweet, innocent girl who worked behind the counter at the coffee shop he always visited. Love at first sight, many people called it, and it was – Jongin soon became your entire world and he would have done anything to see you smile. It started off small, little things here and there from places he worked while you didn’t ask but the more time you spent together, the more you became like each other, and soon you were skimming money from the register while Jongin was scouting out a bank that he was doing work on.

It didn’t take long for you two to end up being known as the modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.

At first, you would wear masks, favouring the Joker and Harley Quinn but once you established a good amount of money and fame – you decided to lose the theatrics and show who you really were. You both thought you were untouchable; the power trip having gone to your head and because you were deemed unpredictable and dangerous by the media – you basically were.

But all good things come to an end.

Once you manage to outrun the police and drop your cash bags off at your safehouse, Jongin drives you back home so you can pack to run away for your new life. “We are going to live like kings, baby.” He laughs as he holds you from behind and kisses your cheek. “We can go anywhere in the world and with the money we have, we’ll never get turned away.” You giggle, turning to kiss him deeply and he pulls you closer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You say against his lips and turn to stuff more clothes into the bag but as you’re about to close it up – you hear sirens in the distance. “Shit.” Jongin grabs your hand, leaving the bag behind as he pulls you to the car and starts it up, peeling out of the driveway and narrowly missing the car pulling around the corner.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. This is it. They had worked out where you lived and everything you had worked for - you are going to lose. Jongin concentrates on the road, holding your hand tightly as he heads for the bridge. You both know that they would have a blockade set up but what are you going to do otherwise? Drive around the city until you ran out of gas, no, you need to make an escape.

“Ride or die, baby.” He says and you nod. The blockade comes into sight and you place your hand over your heart, feeling how fast it is racing. You always talked about what to do if you got caught, there was no way either of you would survive it so you decided to go out on your own terms and as Jongin aimed the car in the direction of the wooden barrier of the bridge – you know that this is it.

“The infamous couple were believed to have stolen millions of dollars’ worth of cash and jewels over their three years of activity. We have footage of them taking a plunge off the bridge, seemingly to evade being captured and tried for their crimes, but their bodies are yet to be found. It is speculated that the strong currents below have dragged their remains away but it’s been three weeks since the incident so police aren’t confident that they will find the bodies at all.”

“They won’t.” A lady says as she sits at the hotel bar and sips her cocktail, “it’s been three weeks already, honey?” The man sitting next to her hums, nodding his head and checking his phone when he hears a ding. “Is that all of it?”

He hums again and smirks up at his wife. “Fresh start, baby.”