#rmarceline

@rmarceline

some cacophony or another later and jaewon is a drunk mess. he might’ve played too much beer pong ( and lost ), or got himself in a drinking game ( or two, or three ), but who can blame him? it’s a pre-requisite of being a dog, a hound, a more acceptable kind of monster: the kind that smiles and makes friends and pats the backs of others in passing, and wears gloves to keep the real kind of enemy from seeping into anyone else’s skin. and he passes by them all, one by one, drinks and laughter and sharp words barked at each other in a series of unfortunate words, until he finds himself stumbling outside with the ghost of a laugh hardly-swallowed.

and this is where he finds her again.

he could have sat anywhere, but he decides to be next to her. ( he always does. ) there’s no drink in his hand, now. not anymore. his lungs have been begging for reprieve, and when he situates himself by her side, his hands are flat against either side of him – on the spaces where she isn’t – and he looks at her with all the familiar comfort of a fresh breath of air.

@rmarceline

someone less patient wouldn’t have waited an hour before leaving a rendezvous point, but they would also have had to be a tad smarter than jaewon. he, on the other hand, remained as loyal as any dog, and hoped, until the last minute, that jennie would change her mind again for the nth time – but, of course, this did not happen just because jaewon hoped it would be so. the outcome did not fall to him; the decision was entirely up to her, and hardly ever something he had a say in.

and that was okay. or he could find a way to be okay about it. that was jennie’s thing, and jaewon thought, after a while, that it wouldn’t be too bad to keep the chocolate he bought for her in the fridge for a while longer, provided that none of the alphas touched it. ( and it was starting to melt, anyway. )

so he tried to make his way back to the house as quick as one could, careful to keep the box of chocolates properly in his hand to make sure that none of them were jostled around, but, as one might expect from someone who couldn’t keep his nose in his own business, and be as self-absorbed as one could dare to hope, he saw a familiar head of hair, and an opposing male wearing, undutifully and seemingly embarrassingly, the colours of his own legacy.