#retrcgrades

❝ since when do you care what my job is, you think i can't handle a few punches. ❞ ace loved his job, it brought in good money and so far he's still undisputed. what seemed interesting is them feeling concerned. ❝ took you out to dinner at one of those fancy fucking restaurants, you didn't say nothing then. ❞

“ you asked me to stay and now you're pushing me away, ” scoff bites under breath, digits brushing through messy locks. “ do you think that's fair ? i could be halfway across the world, if you really didn't want this. ”

“ are you sure you're okay ? ” with concern clad features, a hand raises to their forehead, hot beneath the surface. “ yeah, no — you're not. get back in bed, i'll get you some ibuprofen and a damp cloth. ”

⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀nobody ever warned hyeonju that loving a celebrity involved this much waiting. and most days, she didn't mind — understood the demands of success, considering own life revolved around impossible schedules and impossible people. still, there was something considerably irritating about standing alone at a gala one had spent eight months organizing while significant other was currently running a whole hour late ... not that she was counting, of course. aside from that, everything seemed perfect : the ballroom gleamed around, crystal chandeliers reflecting light across polished marble floors while guests drifted between conversations with champagne flutes in hand. and everything being perfect always meant something was about to go wrong — and, as if summoned by the thought, a commotion erupts near the entrance. a familiar wave of excitement sweeps through the crowd, and the socialite closes her eyes ; and when she opens them again, the other's fashionably late presence comes into sight. ❛ you are late. ❜ the words lack any real heat, mostly because far worse statements had been rehearsed during the last hour. she takes in their slightly disheveled hair and the unmistakable look of someone who had sprinted from one schedule straight into another ... and simply gives a smile. sharp, professional, like the ones reserved for the public and unlike the warm, gentle ones she'd give the other at any other time. ❛ usually people apologize before causing a scene at my events, y'know. ❜ a pause. without taking her eyes off them, a hand reaches up to smooth an invisible crease from their outfit, manicured nails lingering briefly against damp fabric. ❛ that was quite the entrance, though. i suppose i should say congrats on making the evening about you, huh ? ❜

“look, i’ll take the pull out; i owe you at least that much comfort.” the screen door slapped shut behind him, trapping pine scented dusk behind them. this wasn't exactly how he wanted to start of his summer but they were here now. “anyone object?” he asked the group, though his eyes snagged on just one face. a swallow. a shrug he hoped passed for chill. they could call his bluff —he half wanted them to.

he found himself in another party filled with people he knew, ones who could be potential clients with, maybe a couple of strangers. pretty much javier was enjoying the time but that all changed until one of his top clients appeared pinning his beautiful girlfriend against his side, cayetana. to every guy in the room she's untouchable but not approachable -- although he and her boyfriend had a good business relationship, javier wanted her. with his top client now distracted and socializing some where, cayetana was finally alone. small talk was the only way, now he complimented her skin tight dress, with a smile he offered her a drink. ❝ don't worry your boyfriend is pretty much distracted when money is concerned. but i'll admit that i'm happy that i got you alone again -- you've been on my mind ever since. ❞ stepping closer, whispering against her ear.

" it's not like i think about you any less . "

“ i  don’t  think  the  food  here  agrees  with  me, ”  she  says  with  a  hollow  chuckle.  she  isn’t  acting anymore.  the  nausea  is  a  physical  occupant  in  her  lungs,  a  visceral  sickness  born  from  the  realization  that  she  has  lost  the  map  to  her  own  deception.  lying  has  always  been  the  way  she  pays  the  rent,  a  fluid  movement  of  the  soul  that  never  left  a  mark  until  now.  with  every  passing  second,  she  realizes  the  performance  has  become  effortless  only  because  it  is  no  longer  a  performance,  and  the  love  she  was  hired  to  faking  has  taken  root  in  her  very  marrow.