#pricked

It was almost comical how a room that felt so big became hauntingly small. The echoes of his last words etching themselves in your bones until they ached where you sat. Immobile, like a frightened child that hears the creaking sounds of old stairs; threatening to make your heart leap at the thought of old monsters.

Mino couldn’t have meant it. Just like you knew, without a doubt, you were only pretending to be self-righteous. To care about an unnamed woman who should’ve never taken your place to begin with: a poor man’s replacement. A replacement you yourself tried to make of him. The whole reason you showed up here, now,  was to force him to choose you. Or else what had been the whole point of the large affair you’d created, if it wasn’t to lead to an end that favored you both. 

But this was where your self-righteousness ended. 

In the distance your ears could hear the shower running. You knew Mino was undoubtedly undressed on the other side of the door. His last words a farewell forever: a painful dismissal. 

How could you blame him? When your lips failed to move and voice refused to work. Because that self-righteousness flared back up and made you believe you could do the right thing. 

What was right? 

What could be right about losing him, and spending the rest of your life with the maybe’s and what if’s. All you needed to say was what you’d wanted, and allowed, the selfishness that rained over the past year to win. Because honestly, why did you decide now of all times to act so holy? You wanted to do the right thing, regardless of it being too little too late. To believe that self-sacrifice, being a martyr, would be enough to forgive yourself for choosing to hurt so many. 

But you were done falling on swords. Done playing games. If you didn’t tell him now, right the fuck now, that you couldn’t live with the idea of him waking up besides the wrong woman every morning, not you, some stranger who only saw what she wanted, knew nothing about how he used to hide his favorite snacks under pillows during his first year of training, and bleached his hair so badly it left his head raw for days. How he ruined so many school shirts with stains of ink from broken pens that drove his mother into an annoyed rant. She knew nothing of his past. What made him. She only knew what he chose to show her like a carefully wrapped present. But you - you knew all. Past and present. You wanted to know who he became in the future. To see the version of yourself he talked about with confidence reflecting in his eyes.

You knew, deep down, underneath the claustrophobic hands of fear, that you could be better for each other. There would be no more running. No more imaginative ‘What If’s’, to keep you at bay. 

You weren’t surprised to find your feet already guiding you towards the door of the bathroom. Your heart already knew where it was trying to go: it had just been waiting for your mind to catch up. And somehow, after all that mental pep talk, you still found your hand hovering above the knob. 

“No more caving,” you whispered. “I’m doing this.”

Without another moment spared to thought your hand closed around the knob and turned.Whether you were conscious of it or not, you were holding your breath. As if you would find something other than Mino’s naked body on the other side. 

Immediately, your body was engulfed by a hot breath of steam. The mirror fogged up to hide your reflection, and condensation dripped  from every surface. If the shower wasn’t strategically placed in the middle you were sure you could’ve gotten lost in the large high-end expanse of the bathroom. The showers glass enclosure covered a majority of the room and offered no privacy. Your eyes able to roam over every available inch of flesh that it left exposed, and you drank in the sight of Mino greedily. 

Even slumped with his hands splayed out against the patterned granite - body being drenched every second in a heavy flow of water - Mino was still able to command the room. Although, you knew by the heavy sigh between his shoulders that he was a man in mourning. A dull ache wormed its way inside your chest and threatened to bloom, but a memory batted it away. 

It was the beginning of spring; months after you’d begun your secret affair. Both of you pretending it was just something simple as convenience. A past history of being first loves and promises of fairy tale ever-afters allowing you the false ideal it would be over once either of you had your fill. 

You could see now, caressed in a fog of steam, what a lie it was. 

That day the humidity had been worse than the heat. It ended up like that a lot during the peaking days of summer. The two of you finding solace in the new studio Mino rented out; a private, safe place for his artistic ideas to flourish and die in a privacy only he knew. 

He’d rung you to come by. Mino’s voice tempting your body already with the sweetness of kisses and a promise of that honeyed voice that was held between those lips kissing its way between your thighs. You didn’t need much prodding after that.  Your fingers already on an app to hail the nearest driver. 

You’d arrived minutes before he’d asked, and found him surrounded by splattered canvases. A majority of them thrown to the ground, like an island of misfits. Mino was already working on a newer canvas, but the frustration radiated off of him and hit you in waves. You could see it in the way his teeth dug themselves into the wood of his brush, and the large strokes of his fingers, covered in paint, across the canvas. You could’ve sworn you could hear the brush beginning to snap under the pressure. 

Mino had always been this way. His drive for perfection charging his artistic nature, usually with him being completely unaware. He was in such a trance focusing on his work that he hadn’t paid any kind of acknowledgment to your entry. All Mino could see was the canvas before him and the irritating fact it wasn’t coming out like he’d wanted. 

You were more than ninety-nine percent sure if this had been anyone else, you would’ve been annoyed at not being acknowledged. But here in his artistic heaven you were just fine being ignored. It left you plenty of time to gawk at the mosaic piece that covered an enormous section of a wall. The bright pieces coming into the colorful shape of a cartoon man holding a wilting flower. The petals somehow becoming larger until they landed on the ground at his feet. The back wall displaying a dozen or so paintings. The theme of them all painstakingly the same. 

In one various arrays of color, he had the facial outlines of a man and a woman. You could only assume by the way the woman’s face was comforted and the way the lips of the man drew near to caress her lips, that it was a painting with the image of intimacy in mind. That feeling of intimacy causing your cheeks to flush and a yearning to be touched. Another showcased a couple outlined in white against the charcoal of the canvas. There were stars small as speckled dust that told you he’d brushed a single finger through the hair to obtain the effect. The longer you looked at it a stirring feeling of recognition began to ache in the back of your mind.

“It’s that night we spent by the Hongdae river.” 

Mino’s voice cut through your thoughts and brought you clarity. Your eyes barely shifting to acknowledge his body turned in your direction, before looking back at the painting. It seemed the second he mentioned it everything about it began to make sense. 

It was the moment he’d caught your gaze stuck to the bright sky. So bright and full of endless possibilities. 

“Do you remember what you asked me?” He questioned.

You didn’t even need to consider the thousands of possibilities. You already knew.

“Do you ever wonder if the stars miss each other. Millions of them are in the sky. You would think with so many, they would be close to one another, yet they’re so far apart.”

It wasn’t until your eyes took in the shape of dying dust behind a falling star that you finally turned to look at Mino. Your full attention on dried paint that scattered itself on his hands and arms; splattered in rainbow hues all over his shirt and pants. He resembled a piece of art himself, housed inside a room you realized held painted moments of past times together, and more recent. Through this act of whatever it was you’d both created, Mino made something beautiful out of it. He made something beautiful out of you. 

Looking at him now...you knew, Mino would forever stay a work of art that would take your breath away. And in that realization, your mind only came up with one solution to end his creative slump he currently found himself in. 

You didn’t think twice before your hands found the hem of your shirt and began to lift it over your head. Mino’s eyes widened slightly; no doubt enjoying the unexpected show you put on. 

“You’re having trouble painting today.”

It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need an answer, but Mino’s mind wasn’t truly listening to you. It followed his eyes as they watched your hand loop around your back and undo the clasp on your bra. 

“I’ve actually been unable to draw - paint - anything. No matter where I go or what I draw, it never comes out right.”

You were stepping out of your shorts when you nodded in acknowledgement. As the last article of clothing fell to the floor, you were left exposed, in all your glory. For some reason, as ridiculous as it sounded, being naked in front of Mino this way sent your nerves into overdrive. It took everything you had not to begin to fidget with your hands. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Use me.” 

You blurted it out so harshly it caused Mino to jump. This time you did close your eyes as the embarrassment began to burn against your cheeks. 

“Use you?”

By now, Mino was slowly moving towards you. The playful tilt of a smirk drawing up the side of his mouth as his eyes took you in. He radiated a heat that sent your body trembling; not in a bad way. No, no. Far from that. It was an undeniable urge for him to touch you. For his hands to leave burning trials of his exploration of your body on every inch of your skin. 

You had to swallow twice to be able to speak. 

“Yeah. Use me as your canvas. Paint on me and see if this helps break you out of your creative slump.”

That appeared to stop him cold. His feet no longer coyly bringing him towards you and the smirk now drawn in a thoughtful pout. The first real hint of fear hit your tongue and you tried to swallow it away. You hadn’t considered the fact Mino might call your idea ridiculous and, perhaps, stupid. You were about ready to tell him never mind when his hand motioned for you to move next to the canvas and paints he’s been working on previously. 

“Come lay over here.”

You couldn’t reply. Your head giving a curt nod in response as he moved to grab a blanket. It wasn’t the length of your body, but just enough to cover your more...precious parts from the dirt of the floor. Once it was laid in place, you moved to lie down and waited patiently for him to spread his paints out on the tray. Your mind going to counting sheep to pass the time. Around sixty-seven, a gasp of surprise from the cold of the brush against your skin. 

“Babo!” You shrieked. 

Your hand shot out to smack his arm, which only awarded you with the deep bass of his laugh. 

“Should I have warned you?” He asked playfully.

“Duh!” 

“Okay, okay. Lie back down and be ready this time, eh.”

You wanted to smack him again and it sent him into more hysterics. You did what he asked though and laid back with your arms out by your sides. 

“I’m gonna move the arm closest to me, alright.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I’m letting you know so you don’t smack me again.”

This time you chuckled to yourself as his hands took gentle hold of your arm and moved it into place. A few moments later the coldness of the brush touched down on your skin. You didn’t jump this time. 

You couldn’t tell how long you laid there. Mino moving around different points of your body; spreading different colors along your torso, down your legs, and under your breasts. The two of you making light conversation as he worked, until after a while he informed you he was finished. You were ready to move, but your body was heavy with relaxation and you settled on wiggling your toes. 

The sound of a Polaroid camera going off shot your attention back in Mino’s direction. His fingers snaking around to drag the film gently the rest of the way out. 

“You better not show anyone.”

Mino gave you a cynical glance over the side of the camera before snapping on more. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. I wouldn’t share you with anyone: not even as artwork. I just want to save these.” Mino set down the Polaroid and gave the two photos a couple last good shakes before he set them gently down. You began to get up when he knelt beside you, stopping your movements completely. “Y/N, I mean this more than anything. I think this is the best art I’ve made in a long time. What we’ve created together today.”

The compliment sent your lips into a humbled smile that you did your best to hide, but Mino refused to let you. 

“Mino-ah, I did nothing.”

“There you are wrong.”

He didn’t allow you to argue further: his lips crashed down on yours. His body collapsing against yours and hands moving in a heated rush to remove his clothes. You weren’t surprised to find your own helping. The two of you soon making love in a flurry of still wet paint that helped to create a new work of art against the studio floor. 

With the memory fading away, and leaving you to stand back inside the bathroom and Mino a few feet away, it filled you with renewed resolve. What did it matter if you hadn’t graduated from college yet. If you didn’t know a major to stick with, and you worked like a majority of everyone else in customer service jobs and not a giant firm. That your apartment wasn’t in an established part of Seoul. 

You were every bit as good for Mino. Hell, you were the right person for him. You knew that more than anything, and you refused to feel any less unworthy anymore. Without waiting another second to allow doubt to stop you, you reached out and took hold of the shower door and opened it to step inside. Mino turned at your entrance with alarm spread clear on his face and raised eyebrows. After his panic subsided, recognition began to lower his shoulders and formed a question in his brow. 

“Y/N,” he started huskily, “What are you-“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. Using the momentum you gained from entering the shower you pushed into him. The warm water from the shower drenching you both as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him to you. Your lips pressing against his the only answer that you needed to give. 

Mino matched your desire with his own. His mouth opening yours up to him allowing him to drink down every moan he could elicit from you. When pushed to move you back against the wall of the shower, you gave no protest. The need every placement of his hands made coursed through you and sparked like an electric current. Every tug on soaked fabric and delicate graze of teeth skimming down lips until a tongue lashed up to soothe it's haunting ache. Underneath the basic carnal need that plagued your body for Mino’s touch - his touch alone - you knew it was something deeper. 

The idea of soulmates and fate seemed  like a fairytale of pleasant dreams meant to keep the boogeyman of life at bay. That there was some hope of a Disney ending, definitely not G-rated, far from PG, but still somehow attainable in life. The thought alone used to be enough to make you roll your eyes. In the end, you couldn’t allow your cynicism tarnish the truth you knew was true between you two. 

How could you deny the power of the universe when the cosmos rested solely in his lips? The way his name was written in stars along your skin. For fate to align itself over and over until you stood face-to-face wrapped in each others arms in a tangled connection that refused to make sense.

There had to be a reason for all this chaos.

Mino and you were swollen lips and ragged breaths. His naked body pressed against your soaked clothes stirred a desire to finish what you’d started in the other room. Mino, apparently, hadn’t shared the same sentiment. His lips suddenly breaking free of yours only to lead you in a daze from out of the shower. 

When you came back into the room, he didn’t bother with a towel. Instead, Mino opted to struggle his wet appendages into the legs of his jeans. He gave small hops of hope that he used to wedge the fabric up his hips. The whole ordeal already making you fight back the rising fit of giggles, only to end up as a losing battle. The shoulders of his t-shirt becoming trapped around his head; face peeking out through the open collar enough to look ridiculous, and finally broke you down into hysterics.  

When Mino finally was able to get his shirt comfortably on he walked over to where you’d collapsed onto the bed. You were soaked and the sporadic dry patches on your jeans were annoying. Your body still vibrating from your earlier outburst and you watched as he moved to kneel beside you. Not caring that both of you resembled drowned rats. Mino reached out to calmly take both of your hands. The angle he was at giving you perfect clarity of his face. Perfect enough to be able to see a decision rapidly being made in the softness of his eyes.

“This is gonna sound nuts.”

You reached out to cradle his cheek in your palm. Your thumb rubbing lightly to try and calm the storm of emotions that whipped his eyes frantically back and forth searching your face. 

“Mino, this whole year has been crazy. I don’t think anything you could say would surprise me.”

“Marry me.”

Okay. You were wrong. His outburst did surprise you. Your body went still in front of him and your thumb no longer grazed against his lips. You were going into shock and he was taking your silence as denial. 

“I mean, I know it’s stupid. It’s a stupid idea, Y/N, and you deserve a better proposal than this, but I don’t want to waste another moment without you and-“

He was rambling. The both of you knew he was and only because the room swelled with the panic of finality you both felt. That terrible chance that if either of you stepped out of the room, whatever spell of courage happened between you both would end. You could see the pleading in his eyes and could only think of doing one sure fire way to bring his frantic speech to a close. You took his face in yours and gave him one good kiss. When you pulled back he was stuck in place looking for all the world like a wound up doll who’d run out of juice. 

“To answer your question, Mino: yes.”

It took his ears a second to register what you’d said, but the minute he heard it Mino broke into a smile so big you couldn’t help but smile back. He rushed to close the small space between you and wrapped his arms with a constrictors grip around you. Only pulling back to kiss you rapidly all over your face raising giggles from your throat. 

“Yes? Yes! She said yes!”

“Ya, Mino,” you chided playfully. “You act like someone is going to hear you.”

“I don’t need anyone to hear me. All I needed to hear was your answer. Come on,” he urged rushing to grab both of your jackets. “I know somewhere that’s still open that they’ll do the ceremony right now.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you moved hand-in-hand to the front door. This was it. You were on your way to get married. Nothing and yet, everything was about to change. Mino shot you one last smile over his shoulder before he ripped open the door. The both of you coming to a halt in front of the woman, closed fist raised to knock, frozen in shock before you. 

You didn’t need Mino to tell you who she was. By the way her face crumbled like all the cheated souls before her, you knew this was his fiance. The look of pain replaced itself with something much colder and harder. The anger coming in waves to steel herself against the pain you no doubt swimming inside her like a monsoon. 

“How long?”

Her voice trembled in a way that would have made anyone consider it to be sadness. Anyone else, besides you. You knew it was simply the sound of her choking back on a heartbroken rage cocktail that was brewing deep in her chest. Her tears scolding while the judgement her eyes held a very clear hatred for you. Her world slowly falling apart as she drank you both in. Clothes still clinging to your body like a second skin with both lips puffy and red from each other’s kisses. Her world was collapsing into ruin in quiet milliseconds of betrayal before her.

Mino finally let go of your hand and stepped towards her. She instantly retracted from his touch and swatted away his hand as if it were a pest. 

“Don’t touch me!” She shrieked.

“Jang-mi, please,” he protested. This time Mino didn’t make the mistake of trying to touch her. His hands simply motioning for her to come into the safety of the room. “Let’s discuss this inside the room. Not the hallway.” 

Her face turned a bright red, and you understood why. Mino sounded like he was coddling a tantrum throwing child. Not a woman who just had a brutal awakening of her soon-to-be husband’s affair. Jang-mi took on last reproachful glance in your direction and moved to go inside the room; taking careful steps to touch neither of you.

As soon as the door to the room was closed, she whirled on you both. Maybe it would’ve been better to remain at Mino’s side to seem like a united front. But you couldn’t bring yourself to give her another theoretical smack in the face with that. So you kept a few inches between you and your head cast downward at the carpet.

“How. Long.” 

Jang-mi enunciated every word. Her small fists now in tight fists as her eyes scanned from one face to the other. Waiting for one of you to find the courage to answer. You wanted to let out a sigh of relief when Mino finally spoke: “Close to a year.”

That answer wasn’t what the other woman wanted. The air appeared to be knocked out of her, as her knees collapsed from under her and she ended up sitting on the bed. 

“I should’ve known,” Jang-mi began with her voice breathy as if she was talking from a memory. “That day in the alley. When I seen you two together. I knew by the look on your face.”

She looked up at you then, and you didn’t dishonor her by looking away. You held her gaze and knew you deserved what she thought of you. For in Jang-mi’s story, you were the villain. The one who came and stole her ever-after and did it without apology. You wouldn’t ask her to offer forgiveness for your selfishness. 

“His mother has a picture with you in it still. When you were younger at Danah’s eleventh birthday party. I know you were his first love. It’s clear on your faces, but make no mistake, I am the one he chose to marry.”

Jang-mi found her strength to stand and it was against you. You admired her fight but, in this, you refused to let her win.

“That can change,” you snapped. 

Your response surprised her, but she made it clear in her squared shoulders and upturned chin she wasn’t backing down. 

“How? For a year, you were nothing more than a girl kept in the shadows. No better than a whore-“

“Jang-mi, enough!” 

Mino cut in and went to shield you. You stopped him with a hand to his shoulder and stepped around him. Mino could be your knight in shining armor any day - but not today. Today, you would do it for yourself. 

“Think what you want, but I will be what you can never be: the woman he loves.”

Your cheek erupted in flecks of pain that radiated along the side of your face. It was so intense, your eyes blurred with unshed tears. This time you didn’t stop Mino from stepping between the two of you. Their arguing words drowned out to the ringing in your ears. 

“You need to choose Mino: right here and now! Either me or her, and you better make the right choice.”

You knew her threat wasn’t empty. It was backed by outrage with need for you to be proven wrong. That she was the one that held his heart; not willing to admit to the fact she might never have to begin with. Tears were freely streaming down her cheeks now as she reached out to hold onto him. Mino’s guilt leaving him unable to look away from the tears she tried to claim were of anger, but really a reflection of her breaking heart. 

The small room erupted in silence, and it began to make doubt creep into your thoughts. There was always the off chance Mino could choose her, and that was something you couldn’t bear. With your cheek still burning and eyes roaming back and forth between the both of them you didn’t notice Mino moving to stand beside you. His hand moving out to gently take yours in his, while his eyes sadly took in the woman before him. 

“I’m sorry, Jang-mi for being a coward and not telling you sooner. I love you, but I’m not in love with you and...because of that I cannot marry you.”

If things had been different, you would’ve went to her. You were sure that you were the last person she would ever want to comfort her. Not when the two of you stood mockingly the day before her would-be wedding. You knew Mino didn’t want to leave her this way. That he would carry the guilt of what transpired here tonight, and maybe he should for now. No one should go without acknowledging their own wrongdoing in someone else’s pain. Before he could say anything to Jang-mi, however, a sudden knock came at the door.

“Mino, are you there?”

The sound of Mino’s father at the door immediately made him stiffen. The anxiety evident on his face, and here it was Jang-mi saw her opening to share her grief with someone new. 

“He's here with another woman!” 

“J-Jang-mi, is that you?” 

Mino’s father sounded perplexed and you couldn’t blame him. He probably wasn’t expecting to hear his future daughter-in-law yelling about another woman. A tight squeeze into your hand reminded you of Mino at your side. Throughout this whole moment, Mino remained calm and allowed Jang-mi to react how she felt, because he knew he’d given her one of the greatest forms of betrayal. But the quiet understanding he’d used to compose himself was now gone. Now he just looked plain pissed off.

“You have no right to bring him into this!” He snapped.

“He deserves to know the kind of man his son is,” Jang-mi retorted. Her disdain dripping off of every word. 

“Mino! Open this door! Is Jang-mi in there with you?”

“Oppa, everything is alright!”

“No everything is not!” 

Jang-mi screeched the last word high enough it made you wince. She moved forward and slammed an angry fist down on Mino’s chest. You moved to grab her, but Mino simply shook his head and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. 

“Jang-mi,” he began sadly, “this will not make your pain hurt any less.”

“No, you’re right. It won’t.” She moved her hands to rest on his arms and stayed there. Just for a moment. Her looking up at him, Mino staring back, and you feeling like the odd third wheel in what seemed like an intimate moment. Suddenly, her gentleness turned cold and her arms shoved his away and stepped back. “But if I can make you feel any ounce of humiliation that I feel, just for one second, then it’s worth it.”

The room swelled with tension of the unknown before Jang-mi opened her mouth wide and let out a scream. Her mascara running down in droplets that reminded you of the matchmaker in Mulan. For all the world she had passed her pain and went start to rage and called out the worst things. That you were assaulting her. That Mino has struck her. It was enough to send Mino’s father into a frenzy outside the door.

“Fuck this,” Mino growled. 

He reached out his hand and clasped it securely around yours. He didn’t wait to grab your coats or cellphones. Mino moved straight for the door not caring for the howling woman at your back and opened the door to startle his father, and a few gawking hotel guests. 

“Mino, what’s going on?”

Mino didn’t answer his father. He pushed past him and forced you to do the same. The Song elder finally noticing your presence and his confusion only aging him faster. 

“Mino. Stop!”

But he didn’t stop. He kept running you both down the hallway and to the stars. The sound of his father and others rushing to catch up to you. Mino was running down the stairs at a speed that forced you to jump two at a time to keep up. It should’ve been odd. Maybe embarrassing, to be seen bursting from the stairwell into a fancy lobby. Your abrupt entrance startling guests waiting and checking in. In truth, it caused you to laugh. 

It didn’t matter what strangers thought as you moved through the prestigious double doors with people from the bridal party giving chase. Not even seeming crazy that Mino, or you, had any idea where you were going to run too. You just kept running, hand in hand, until he finally spotted a bus a few yards ahead. 

The both of you started waving the driver down in hopes he would see you and wait. There was a brief moment your heart dropped when it seemed he was about to shut the doors, but noticed his annoyance at having to wait for you written plainly on his face. You silently wished him and his family a thousand blessings as your feet took the small steps loudly. Mino and you digging like crazy around in your pockets to find the exact change to put it. 

You both couldn’t present it fast enough when his family came tearing into view, causing Mino to take the wad of money and shove it towards the driver. 

“You can keep all of it if you’ll just shut the doors and take off now. Please.”

It didn’t seem the older man was going to comply. His wary eyes moving from the money to both of your sweaty figures gasping for air and damp clothes. You were almost about to step back off the bus when he motioned with his head for the two of you to sit down. You were ready to hug him, but didn’t want to push your luck. 

The both of you moved to sit at the far back of the bus. Mino taking the window seat and you curled up against him with your head resting on his shoulder. The two of you stayed silent for a long time. Neither of you commenting on his father and, maybe, the groomsmen or the brides’ family, slamming their hands against the door just before the driver merged into the Seoul traffic. 

You listened only to the sound of his heart beating. The way it began to ease into its natural rhythm after the storm passed. It’s what helped you sort out all the thoughts that raged for purpose inside your head. The main one being the only one you chose to speak out loud.

“What now?”

Mino let out a sigh as a lazy hand moved to stroke over your hair. He remained quiet a while longer before he spoke. 

“Now? Now we just live out our happily-ever-after.”

A snort of laughter left you as you looked out the window; not wanting to move less it caused him to stop playing with your hair. 

“Oh, is that all?” You teased.

“Forever is simple. It’s the in between of getting there that’s hard.”

“You saying I’m hard?” 

You looked up him and took in the wistful smile that danced behind almond eyes. His finger moving delicately to trace the outline of your face. 

“No, jagi . You are the part of getting to forever that makes it all worth it.”

The water was getting cold, but you grew numb to it. To all of it.

At first you considered that a good thing; guy you met at the bar, black hair falling over his eyes, countless piercings on both his ears, eyes that appeared indifferent when you’ve never in your life seen a gaze so piercing— you knew how this kind of thing worked.

He was handsome. He was staring at you. He had a gun.

His friend was playing with a pocket knife, long, slender fingers carefully twisting the blade, looking at the weapon like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

You knew something was wrong then. His friend looked harmless. But not him.

He had a velvety voice, a voice that he used to play tricks on people— on you. And he had words, pretty words, and a smile made only for angels, pearly white teeth and full, kissable lips. Yes, he had all of that and you fell for all of it enough to forget about the gun.

So the guy you met at the bar became Taemin, and his friend introduced himself as Onew, glancing at you, brown hair styled, strands falling over his forehead, and soon enough you went home with both of them, trying to ignore the black .45 tucked into the back of his black jeans.

Home was a shithole, with fluorescent lights, and the least amount of furniture possible. Home was empty bottles of whiskey and vodka and soju, a mattress with white covers on a corner of the only room the house had, a couch full of clothes across from an old TV, and a smashed kitchen.

“Go home, you punk,” Taemin chuckled at Onew as he kicked him out of the living room, with Onew smirking lightly, his black coat dancing around him.

“Careful with this one, Lee,” he warned, and with a wink he was gone.

Taemin’s face sobered after that comment, but he said nothing. A man of few words. He unbuttoned his silk shirt, exposing pale skin and fragile collarbones.

“You should undress,” he said after taking a look at you. His voice soft, words falling off his tongue like a lullaby. “I have to do something.”

He fucked you that night, and from that point on he started showing up out of nowhere, scaring your friends away when you’d gone out for drinks with his cold gaze, waiting for you on his motorcycle after classes, knowing where you live and what time you went to bed.

He fucked with your mind a lot. Acting like he was your boyfriend, but always taking you to that place of his, undressing you and taking you from behind like you were a stranger.

You two weren’t strangers. It didn’t feel like that from the beginning. But at the same time, you didn’t know him at all. You knew he was trouble, you’d seen the evidence, you knew you should run or maybe put a restraining order on him for stalking you like that, only you knew. You felt a pull towards him—his grip was too tight.

And it was too frustrating during the nights he’d talk, bottle of liquor on his hand, faded blonde hair a mess.

“Leave,” he’d said when you refused to have sex with him. “Walk out on this.”

“It’s been three months, Taemin.”

“So?” When he looked up at you, dark circles surrounding his brown eyes, you knew he was daring you. “If you have something to say to me, say it.”

You didn’t. You wouldn’t pretend; you were trapped. Your gaze fell on the gun on his nightstand. He didn’t have to look to see what you were staring at.

“You saw that on the first night, too,” he grinned like a cat at the wall. “Now it scares you?”

The numbness? That mindset about it being a good thing? It wasn’t. It shouldn’t be. Maybe it was for him, maybe that’s all he knew, but you? This was just your fault.

You let it go too far and now there’s no back tracking. Not with a guy like him.

When you started undressing, he laughed, his eyes disappearing. You hated him then.

“Guess not,” he mumbled, watching your every move. “I’ve killed people,” he stated, trying to catch your eyes. “I’ve been carrying a gun with me since I was nineteen years old,” he continued. “I’ve dealt drugs, and I’ve a shit ton of money.” He paused, like he was waiting for something. Then he huffed out a laugh.

“But you don’t care about that, do you? You probably know I’ve money. You know I can afford better than this… what’d you call it? Awful place. You never say shit,” his whole face was smiling. You took off your skirt and knelt down on the mattress. 

“You continue going at your boring little job, getting the same shitty salary you’ve been receiving since high school, and you do grocery shopping and regular meet ups for beef with your innocent little friends, and your life is just so goddamn normal and boring until my shift of being scum is over and I whisk you away into the dangerous night. Is that it? Have I got this right?”

He was smirking at the tears that had gathered in your eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, soju long forgotten. There was bitterness in his tone. Jealousy.

“What do you want from me?” you ask in a small voice, your lip trembling.

“What do you want from me would be the better question.”

You never answered. He attacked your mouth and before you knew anything else, he had you under him, fingers wrapped around your throat, mouth moving downwards.

You had no idea how much he was keeping from you, at what lengths he’d gone to keep everything about him far away from you and your life, always making sure you saw him and nothing else, nothing beyond the p.m.

Until then. Until you started questioning that numbness you felt around him at times.

It was six months, then seven, eight—a year had gone by. You had almost moved in with him. That house had remained empty. There would be nights where people would come over and wake you up, music and smoke slipping under the door. You’d hear girls giggling and deep voices cursing.

The gang. All five members, just outside that door. So close you could just open it and finally meet that horrible doom-like feeling that’s been hanging over Taemin’s head for God knows how long.

That was when you heard it. His voice—that seductive drawl of his words, the trap made of velvet, the one he used when he wanted something. You focused on it. And then everything was clear.

Someone—Key—said, “Careful,” and you didn’t need another word. 

“Don’t you have a girl or some shit?” said someone else.

You sank deeper into the water. The water was burning your skin. You welcomed the pain.

“She couldn’t keep up,” you heard Taemin say.

“I can,” a girl —the girl— chirped.

“Yeah, baby?” Your boyfriend had words; pretty words.

He also had a facade to keep up. But you couldn’t know that.

“Dude, you’re fucking up…”

“Shut the fuck up, Minho. Or get the fuck out.”

“Your girl’s gonna walk the fuck out if you don’t cut it off. Have fun, but be careful.”

Taemin must’ve figured out you were home then, quiet as you always were, ‘cause he barked for everyone to get out. You sank completely into the bathtub, holding your breath, wondering why, why, why—

He’d got a deal. A bigger gang wanted him with them. More money, six feet deeper than he already was. He was a good shot—that’s what that paper said. Good collection of guns, flawless aim. Connections. A full list of who he’d killed and why.

You’d searched for more. You found it. A mission for a mafia in Busan. Someone called Ravi had written exact orders and a time and place for a meet up. Six figures. 

You released your breath. You couldn’t hear anything except your own heartbeat.

Everything was documented, it was all there. You could’ve smelled the blood if you tried to.

You knew when he opened the bathroom door. He called your name—you kept your eyes closed.

Hands pulled you up and you gasped for air, coughing.

“What the fuck? What the fuck, (Y/N)?” he screamed at your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

He’d got in the bathtub. Water was everywhere. He kissed you till you felt your lips bruising.

You closed your eyes again.

“Are you okay?” You could feel his gaze searching your body up and down.

“Twenty people dead. A successful shoot-out. Ten kilograms of cocaine,” you rambled, shaking his hands off of you.

“What?”

You met his intense eyes, at last. “I think I’m finally okay with living my boring life, Taemin.”

He let you get out of the bathtub, he let you walk naked in the cold apartment, and he still hadn’t stopped you when you gathered whatever you could carry in your bag, dressed in clothes not suitable for the weather outside, hair wet and cheeks stained with silent tears, walking out of that awful place. Walked out on him.

He let you. He was the one.