#sanccharine

A soft curse escaped your lips as you observed the meticulously decorated building in front of you.  

Granite statues of goblins guarded the front steps, which seemed like they were a second away from falling apart. Along with their pointed ears and wrinkled foreheads, they had a grotesque grin etched across their face, more to showcase their rows of sharp teeth instead of a welcoming smile. The worst part was their eyes, hidden away from the rain by protruding eyebrows, they were caved in and greasy, making them twinkle in the night. 

The stairs were also of the same stone, splattered with what you hoped was dirt and grime, leading up to the entrance of the mansion. Beside them, led a staircase to the right side of the house all the way up to the upper floor. It was a beautiful house, truly, with its high roofs and many windows. Maybe in its prime, you would have been able to appreciate its beauty, maybe even dreamed of staying in such a place. 

However, in the darkness of the night, the pastel pink walls turned into an ugly shade of grey similar to a trodden sidewalk. It didn’t help that the paint was cracked and peeling to show the large splotches of mould. Then there were the overgrown vines spewing over the railing beside the entrance and crawling up the walls, reaching the open windows which creaked eerily with wind, barely hanging on. 

It was the type of house the protagonist of a horror movie would have to move into at the start of the film. Even with cleardistaste for the house and the knowledge of its past from the neighbours or rumours, they’d choose to stay there. The mere sight of it had you wrapping your arms around your stomach and pulling at your overcoat. 

For a random haunted house at an amusement park, they had spent quite the money to make it look…convincing. 

Beside you, Jihyo’s torso heaved as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, allowing a misty cloud to escape her lips. When she was done collecting herself, she spun on the balls of her feet as she proclaimed. “We’ll do the dishes, Jeongyeon! And vacuuming! For a week!” 

Normally, you would’ve nudged Jihyo, gesturing that you wanted nothing to do with cleaning duties. What with Jeongyeon breathing down your neck for every second of it? Absolutely not, you did not have a death wish. However, considering your current predicament, between cleaning with Jeongyeon badgering you every second or entering this haunted house of horrors, you would easily pick the former.  

Nayeon scoffed at Jihyo’s pathetic attempt at bargaining which caused you to turn as well. Next to the oldest, stood Jeongyeon with her hands in her pockets, completely relaxed at the knowledge of her friend’s imminent suffering. Beside the pair, stood Sana and Momo, who clung to each other for any sort of warmth during this late October night. However, there was no warmth in their mischievous eyes.

When Jeongyeon’s face stayed as expressive as the stone behind you, Jihyo continued with hands clasped in front of her chest. “Seriously! For two weeks, then?” 

But, of course, Jeongyeon was not easily convinced. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a composed smile as her eyes moved from the begging girl to you, who remained as stiff as a board. “Neither of you can properly clean. It’s just more work for me.” 

Nayeon folded her arms as her eyes flitted to the ground to suppress the cackle that would surely burst out. Jihyo’s clasped hands parted, shaking as they dropped. The corner of her lip twitched as she straightened herself, the facade of a begging innocent transformed into a character dead set on spilling blood.  

Before that could happen, finally coming to your senses, you offered. “I’ll pay for dinner.” 

Jeongyeon tilted her chin up to consider. Even Jihyo turned, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’ll pay for tonight,” you nod, resolving yourself. You need to sound confident. “Dinner at the new restaurant that opened down the street. Tzuyu wanted to go there, I’ll pay!”

Sana and Momo started giggling like schoolchildren at the thought of free food, while Nayeon nodded her head with satisfaction, convinced. However, Jeongyeon only raised an eyebrow at the offer, clearly mulling it over. The only thing that could distract the group of demons you call friends is food, they were primitive that way. You turned to meet Jihyo’s stare, which was oddly inexpressive, but all of you knew better than that. It was all just a mask, to cover the rage simmering right underneath, waiting to be unleashed. 

“No,” Jeongyeon said with a clenched half-smile, one that would accompany an apology, but she looked anything but apologetic. 

Right next to you, a shrill yowl erupted that nearly shattered your eardrum. Instinctively, you shifted and threw your arms around Jihyo’s waist. Fortunately, you’d caught Jihyo just before she could pounce and tear out Jeonyeon’s bleached hair strand by strand. Although, with the way she thrashed in your arms she was only a second away from escaping and doing just that, maybe you’d even join in. Nayeon let out that cackle while Sana and Momo continued to giggle, all at the sight of their friend going absolutely feral. What must’ve irritated Jihyo even more though was that Jeongyeon stood in the middle, completely unaffected. 

“You set us up!” Jihyo shrieked, but the ringing in your ear didn’t deter you from your task. “Jeongyeon, you set us up!”

Joining Jihyo, but also tightening your hold on her, you agree. “She’s right! You purposely put Chaeyoung as the police and Dahyun as the doctor, while Jihyo and I were the mafia. Obviously, we’d lose!”

“Lies and defamation,” Jeonyeon shook her head before placing her hand over her heart, “I did no such thing. I would never, ever, do that.”

“Or maybe you’re just bad at playing mafia!” Sana said, sticking her tongue out. Momo let loose more giggles while Nayeon let out another hearty cackle, this time, smacking Jeongyeon’s shoulder in the process.

“As if you’re any better!” Jihyo growled, panting but still caged in your arms. “As if you–”

“What’s going on?” Mina’s small voice asked as she came over, holding two ginormous sticks of cotton candy. Behind her, the three youngest members of your circle followed like little ducklings after their mother. 

Dahyun was busy counting leftover change and checking bills to see if everything was accounted for. Chaeyoung and Tzuyu, on the other hand, lugged in more carnival food—enough snacks to skip dinner. Of course, they’d never actually skip dinner. They’ve bought buckets of popcorn as if they’re out to watch a movie, which was true in a way, your misery will be their entertainment. 

Sighing at the image, you accepted your fate. 

Momo eagerly took a stick of cotton candy from Mina, while Nayeon answered. “Jihyo and Y/N are trying to weasel their way out of their punishment, you know, like a bunch of weasels.” 

Nayeon shook her head with two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in feigned disappointment. Mina flashed her gummy smile just as a carnival worker came out to call you. Jihyo turned to offer a small bow, as your friends began to holler. The woman arrived with two selfie sticks in her hand attached to cameras and handed them to the two of you. She offered a kind smile, completely missing the dread swirling in your eyes.

“Welcome to Mysterious Mansion! Your objective is to find the four keys necessary to escape the mansion in under thirty minutes. That’s it!” She said with a small shrug and you narrowed your eyes at that obvious lie. “Once you enter, there will be a map of the mansion to your right as well as a few rules outlining the gameplay, please read them before proceeding. When the two of you are ready, just raise your hands above your head and you’ll hear a buzzer which will be the start of your time. 

“As for the rest of the group,” the woman leaned to Jihyo’s right to offer a kind smile to your already snacking friends, “please follow me to the back where you can watch them play the game.” 

When the girls hollered, you slowly turned to Jihyo’s stare. There was a mismatch of emotions passing through them, none of which you could make any sense of, apart from the fact that neither of you wanted to do this.

One last attempt at a saving grace, your eyes landed on the cost for one run of thirty minutes. It was quite pricey. “Damn guys, this punishment looks like it will be really expensive, instead I’ll just buy dinner—”

“Just go already,” Tzuyu deadpanned to your offer, her voice muddled as she munched on popcorn. 

“Plus, we paid in advance. All of us!” Dahyun added in her chirpy manner. 

“Right, of course, you did,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I even bother?”

What were the five stages of grief? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance? Yeah, well it was about time you accepted your demise. Jihyo must’ve come to the same conclusion after having gone from being scared to offering to clean to going absolutely mad, completely skipping the depression stage as an odd light filled her eyes. 

“Thirty minutes, right?” You snapped to your right at Jihyo’s words. “What’s the record time?” 

“Eight minutes!” The worker said in an unnecessarily chirpy tone. “Three guys made it out in a flash, best run we’ve seen!”

Jihyo mumbled something and nodded to herself while Nayeon began to snigger, completely aware that Jihyo’s competitive spirit would be a thousand times worse than whatever was waiting for you inside. 

Jihyo offered her empty hand and you sighed dejectedly as you took it, your fingers quickly entangling. Your so-called friends giggled and howled like the irritating children they were, offering encouragement that was mostly empty. You were sure Jeongyeon had a wicked grin plastered on her face, you didn’t have to turn around to know that. 

With a camera stick in your left hand and your right in Jihyo’s, the two of you approached the steps. You tried to drown yourself in the giddy laughter of little children visiting the carnival, the same overplayed pop music blaring from speakers, and the vibrant flashing lights adorned on various rides to remind yourself that the horror house you were entering was just another ride. None of it was real, and you were not going to get hurt. As the worker put it; just find the keys and escape, that’s it. Simple. 

With a final few rowdy howls from the young college girls, the entrance to the mansion closed behind you. To say the place was dark would be an understatement. You could just barely make out the grand stairs leading to the upper floor, and by baseless deduction, you assumed there were rooms on either side of the staircase because right now all you could see was black. Jihyo squeezed your hand and you stopped staring blindly into the abyss to stare at something you could see. 

As the worker had mentioned, there was a map to your right. It was lit up by flickering yellow light and detailed both floors. There were a total of six rooms aside from the three bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the main hall. Basically, the place was ginormous—again, quite the budget for an amusement ride. The exit was marked with a large red ‘X’ on the upper floor. 

Jihyo quickly read aloud the rules as you let out another dejected sigh, bringing up the camera to glare at it, you mumbled. “You know this is all your fault?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jihyo scoffed, turning to you before yanking her hand out of your clasp. “My fault? If anything, this is your fault?” 

“Oh, please enlighten me.” You replied, throwing your arms up, sending a scathing glare her way, though she probably couldn’t see it well. 

“If you didn’t look so suspicious, then—”

A loud buzzer sounded and the two of you froze—both of your hands had been raised, even if it was only for a second!—as the dim yellow lights changed instantly to hues of crimson. 

Jihyo’s hand grabbed yours and brought it down before interlocking fingers again. She then hissed as she took the first step. “If you didn’t look so damn suspicious, then you would’ve lasted more than two rounds and we would’ve won.”

“That’s just my face! If I smile too much I’m suspicious, if I don't smile at all I’m still suspicious! What am I supposed to do?” You hissed back, squeezing her hand tightly. Clearly, both of you have regressed back from acceptance to anger. “And what about—let’s go left—what about you?”

Jihyo turned left, dragging you along, and entered a grand dining room. In the centre of the room stood a large mahogany table, large enough to feed eight people and was neatly adorned with plates. If you squinted, you could make out the beautiful patterns on the plates and the intricate engraved details on the ends of the cutlery.

Letting Jihyo lead you around the table, you continued. “What about you, huh? The second Nayeon mentioned your name, you blew up. It was clearly a trap, and you walked right into it!” 

Jihyo sighed, leering over the table to check for a key among the silverware, and admitted. “I should’ve killed Dahyun after you were voted out.” 

Dahyun was too good of a doctor and managed to save everyone you tried to kill. If Jihyo had taken her out, that would’ve given the mafias an easy win. You grumbled your agreement while eyeing the strange baroque painting at the end of the dinner table. 

The painting was of a woman in a silk gown, glancing to her left, wholly uninterested in the elaborate platter she held. Strange since the platter held a severed head. The man was bearded, his mouth frozen agape in shock as his sockets had been carved out, devoid of eyes. He was adorned with pomegranates, grapefruits, and plums—the juice of the fruit and the blood from his neck pooled and dripped down the woman’s hands, soaking into her sleeves. What a terribly morbid painting, it disgusted you but for some reason, you couldn’t look away. Deciding to search the table along with Jihyo, you opted for one last glance. 

Probably the worst decision you’ve ever made, as your heart nearly burst through your ribcage. 

The woman’s eyes in the painting looked straight at you. 

If Jihyo sensed you crushing her hand in a panic, then she ignored it. Instead, she shuffled around, tugging you, and aggressively prodded the table with the camera stick, prioritizing finding a key over a broken hand or the camera. Not trusting your voice, you nudged Jihyo to warn her, unable to break your gaze from the painting. Of course, completelyused to your irritating behaviour, she overlooked it. Jihyo only offered low grunts, much like a caveman, when you nudged her more frantically, panicking after you caught sight of the blood dripping from the painting and onto the floor. 

Jihyo was about to reach her limit from all your nudging, especially when she was the only one trying to find the keys. You knew she was preparing to give you a verbal lashing when suddenly she went taut under your grasp. Jihyo let out a guttural scream, loud enough to break the sound barrier, and jumped a meter into the air. In response to that, a horrid screech escaped from you and as you were still very much stuck to Jihyo, you were yanked harshly out of the dinner hall. 

“There was something under—something grabbed my leg!” Jihyo repeated frantically, shivers passing through her body as she ran back to the entrance. Jihyo let go of your hand, though with a lot of difficulty, to try opening the door. No such luck because the door was locked shut.

You swore profusely, before obsessively jangling the door handle with your now free hand. Rage had quickly enveloped your fear and this was the only way to let out your frustration—bullying an inanimate object. You sent a kick to the handle after trying to slam the door open with your shoulder. When these failed, you finally acknowledged what had already been proven. “Damn it, we have to find those stupid keys!”

“Should we split up?” Jihyo asked, already studying the map, while you glimpsed at the dining room. It was difficult in the dark, but you were sure you saw a shadow moving. “How about you take the ground floor, and I’ll take the other?” 

Jihyo glanced at you as if she was offering you the better option as if she was being generous. Yeah, the ground floor had fewer rooms, but that was only because the rooms were larger. Plus, the dining room, kitchen, and the main hall were all open spaces. Your only proper refuge would be the smallest bathroom, which was at the very far end to the right. 

You were just about to decline and suggest you stay together when something—well someone—came growling from the kitchen. The two of you screamed as much as your lungs would allow you. Without a second of hesitation, Jihyo bolted up the stairs still yelling, successfully leaving you for dead.

Well, guess you would be taking the ground floor then. 

Personifying the fight in the fight or flight response, you wielded your camera stick like a bat and stood your ground. You jumped side to side on the balls of your feet, swinging the makeshift bat as the monster came to a slow stop in front of you. It was too dark for you to make out the costume and makeup, but with the tufts of fur and leaves hanging from the torso, you’d assume this was some sort of swamp monster. Perhaps you would have criticised how a swamp monster took away from the immersive experience considering you were in an elaborately decorated mansion, but at the time, you were too busy screaming to think of such things. 

“I swear I will hit you—don’t come closer!” You shrieked, with only the stick in between you and your murderer. 

Whoever this poor actor was, was probably not paid enough to do this every night, especially with the makeup and heavy costume, but right now, that wasn’t your biggest worry. If this person were to make any sudden move, you were more than ready to whack the life out of them. You could live with that. Covering their medical bills and assault charges will be a problem for you in the future. 

The two of you circled each other until your back was to the dining room entrance and you let yourself be backed into the room. However, the second your back hit a chair, you grabbed whatever silverware you could find and hurled it in your attacker’s direction. Lucky for you, the cutlery was not attached to the table, or worse, made out of porcelain. The spoons, knives, and forks clattered to the ground while you dashed to your left, moving to the kitchen. 

There was a strange bubbling noise but you decided to return to this place when you’re not so close to being killed. You exited the kitchen through its proper entrance and opened the door on the left. It was a small storage room, littered with nothing but a few discarded canvases on the floor—you don’t remember this room on the map. 

Oh, also, there was a crying woman in white, huddled in the corner. 

Greeting her with a quick bow, you immediately shut the door before you could register what you’d seen. Ignoring the violent shudder that passed through your spine, you ran back towards the main entrance, just about to cross the staircase to follow through with the plan you never agreed to when a blood-curdling scream came from the first floor. 

Your self-sacrificing instincts kicked in and you climbed two steps at a time while cursing your feet which carried your body towards Jihyo’s screams. Crashing into the first door on your right, you burst into the room screaming all the while swinging your camera stick strong enough to make baseball stars weep… only to find Jihyo backing her assailant to a corner. 

You paused, chest heaving violently, as you witnessed Jihyo in her warpath. Her hands were clenched in tight fists as she stomped forward, making the poor actor back up. She let loose those guttural gnarls that would have one’s throat grating as if someone were pulling it taut. Surely, by the end of your punishment, Jihyo would end up with a sore throat that no amount of honey could cure. Her attempt at asserting dominance slowed down to snarls and hissing before she came to a stop at the sight of surrender. You would have been impressed had she not looked completely mad. 

Jihyo heaved and moved back to the enormous bed in the room, with her eyes still trained on the poor zombie, who tried to become one with the wall. When she sat down, huge plumes of dust wafted into the air and she began coughing violently but had no energy to move away. 

Catching yourself on the door frame seeing that Jihyo had saved herself, you whimpered out. “Got all your anger out now?” 

Both the actor and Jihyo stiffened at your voice before Jihyo said. “I’m going to kill Jeongyeon.” 

You cringed at Jihyo’s hoarse voice, which was nothing but air, she seemed to speak every word as if it pained her. You close your eyes to collect yourself before asking. “Did you find a key?” 

Jihyo wordlessly raised her hand, holding a whole ring of keys, glinting in what little moonlight the tattered curtains allowed. You gasped and walked forward, reaching over the bed to take them. Ignoring the dust being released when you dropped your camera stick carelessly, you counted the number of keys. There were exactly four, all seeming to be in different colours, shapes, and sizes. One of them even had the number three on it. 

Before you could ask, Jihyo pointed behind her and croaked. “Drawer.”

You repeatedly muttered okay to yourself, giddy to finally be free from this mad house. 

So giddy, that you failed to notice the traumatised actor in the corner shaking their head when you exited the bedroom. Getting a head start, you made it down the corridor and found the room where the exit was supposed to be. You opened one door and were met with four other doors. Two to your left, one to your right, and a metal one in front of you. Otherwise, the room was completely barren. 

This was not good. All of these doors were closed meaning you had no idea what monstrosity was hiding behind them. Hearing the muttered curses and stomping, you know Jihyo wasn’t far behind. Quickly, you pulled apart the ring, separated the four keys, and laid them out in the same order with key number three in its place. The door right in front of you was clearly the exit, as it had four coloured and numbered squares with keyholes in the centre.

What do you know? The colours of the keys matched the squares!

Even then, your mind in all its excitement failed to see the obvious trap, like it had failed to predict Jeongyeon’s plans to frame you and Jihyo. You hurried and put all the keys in their respective holes, some with difficulty, with you standing in front of keyhole numbers one and two while Jihyo was in front of the others. With one last glance at Jihyo, you tried the first key.

Except that it didn’t turn. 

“No,” Jihyo mumbled before harshly turning key number three which worked. She tried turning key number four but it wouldn’t budge, she pulled it out and threw it to the ground. “Damn it!” 

Right at that moment, the door on your left swung open revealing a person with the Jason Voorhees mask and a machete to match. Once again, in unison, you and Jihyo were screaming as much as your lungs would allow. However, this time, both of you bolted out the door you’d entered and Jihyo closed the door behind you just in time, so your attacker couldn’t come. Panting, you leaned on the wall by the door, hand wrapped around Jihyo’s own hand which clung to the door handle. 

“Swamp monster, crying ghost, zombie, and Jason,” you count out as you catch your breath. “Four monsters so far, you think that’s it? Four keys, four doors, four monsters?”

Jihyo, panting herself, nodded. “Has to be.” 

“We need to get those stupid keys,” you sighed. Even panicked and running high on adrenaline, you could feel your fear giving way to frustration. You were ready to get this game over with. “I didn’t find any, but I’m assuming it's two per floor.” 

Jihyo nods again, while her attention is on the door, pressing her ear to make sense of the killer behind. But it was silent. 

“Do you want to stay here, and I can find the keys on the first floor?” 

“I’d be a sitting duck,” Jihyo shook her head. “I’ll ransack the top floor, there are still the bathrooms.”

“Dining hall is a red herring with too many clues,” you said, unsure if the room was to be misleading, but it definitely was a waste of time. “I’ll recheck the kitchen and main hall.” 

You glance back at the door and frown. 

“Give me some time before running to the bathrooms, I don’t have places to hide downstairs,” you say and gently take your hand from the door handle, shaking off your nerves. 

Again, Jihyo nodded as she leaned beside the door, taking your place. 

Nodding back at her, you headed towards the stairs. Forgoing the steps, you sat on the railing and quickly slid down, landing easily at the bottom. Your first location was the kitchen. 

You knew the swamp monster had to be waiting in the dining room for you. As well as the crying ghost in the nearby storage room. You’d take your chances with the ghost any day. Taking the route from the back, you entered the kitchen. Walking to the nearest cabinet, you tugged on the handle—it was glued shut. Nodding to yourself, you squinted at the marble counters for anything, nothing seemed to stand out apart from the bubbling pot on the stove, lit up by a flame—it was a light, not real fire. 

A shuffle in the dining room, made you snap your neck to the left. Your eyes, like magnets, turned to the eyes of the morbid painting, glaring into you. Any moment, the swamp monster would return. Turning your attention to the pit, you lifted the lid to see stagnant liquid—so the bubbling was just a recorded sound—that helped break the immersiveness. Rolling up your sleeve and steeling yourself, you stuck your hand in the freezing cold water—or what felt like water. You were grateful for the low viscosity, anything else, and you would have given up finding the key. 

Speaking of, your fingers brushed against shaped metal and pulled out a handful of keys. Cringing at the metallic clangs and clinks as you dropped the wet keys on the counter, you easily found the only key that had a number on it. 

Just as you pocketed the key, the swamp monster made itself known. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered and tipped the pot over. They really should glue that down too. 

Water splashed onto the tiled floor, covering the space between you and the monster. Yes, there was another door leading straight to the main foyer from the dining room, but the distraction was all you needed for time. 

Taking the back entrance again, you sprinted out of the kitchen, past the main foyer, and into the room you’ve never been to before. The main hall. 

The moment you entered you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from shrieking.

Every corner of the room, every shelf, every breathing space from the mantle of the fireplace to the couch to the emptyspace of the majestic piano were seated with antique dolls. Dolls of all kinds, and colours, and clothes with their glassy eyes and rosy cheeks and perfectly brushed hair. Not to mention that all the oil paintings of young girls, similar to the antique dolls taking up every inch of the walls. 

Somehow this was worse than the painting that dripped blood onto the floor. 

But much like that painting, it was like all their eyes followed you. That couldn’t be. 

The dolls’ eyes were all looking in one direction, up at the paintings. And the paintings looked up at the ceiling, following them, your head tilted up. 

If you didn’t have trypophobia before, you certainly did now. 

The ceiling was filled with magnificent glass-painted lights, barring the eye-like structures all clustered to look into a direction. Letting the hairs on your neck raise, you followed down the ceiling to the back of the room, once again met with paintings on the wall as your eyes landed on something marginally worse. 

A clown. 

Gulping so loud, you stayed frozen. 

Had the actor just waited until you figured out the eyes?

Their grin widened as their head tilted in an almost robot-like manner. 

Trypophobia and clowns were not fears you expected to gain tonight, but life works in mysterious ways. 

“Come on, man,” you hoped to sound a little relaxed, but with the way your voice shook, you’re doubtful cool confidence came across well. 

When the actor’s grin only widened, you let out a pained whine, like a child throwing a tantrum.

Regressing to your throwing habits, you glanced at the dolls. If they weren’t glued to their places, and also if they weren’t porcelain, you could kick a few to the ground as a distraction. However, touching or holding any part of the dolls matched with those lifeless dead eyes, chubby rosy cheeks, and coloured pouting lips was a thousand times more revolting than facing discount Pennywise. 

“I will swing the camera stick and I know you’re not getting paid enough to take that,” you bartered instead, both hands on the camera stick, once again like a bat. 

The actor chuckled and shook his head. “It happens more often than you think, even though it's against the rules.”

“Rules?” you question, camera stick slightly lowering. 

“The ones under the map,” he offered. 

“Shit, yeah. No, we didn’t have time to read those,” you frowned, completely dropping your stick to your side. “Assuming, we’re not supposed to throw and spill stuff either?”

“Generally, not proper etiquette but it happens,” he shrugged. The casual action was so odd when he was dressed as a horrifying killer clown. 

“Really sorry about that,” you frown deeper with a sigh but he only shakes his head, dismissing your apology with a wave of his hand. 

“You’re all good,” he smiled. Now, you knew he was trying to be friendly and accommodating, but in his make-up, his grin was chilling. It was exactly the reminder you needed. 

Lifting up the stick, almost as if going into an act yourself, you steeled your nerves. The clown followed you as he lowered himself, his eyes narrowing while his grin widened. “Where’s the key?” you asked. 

You were sure he was about to recite some quote from the source material, or just something to elevate his performance. However, both of us were distracted by the ear-shattering scream that could only be Jihyo’s. Perhaps, you’d have jumped the couch and run to her, that is if she wasn’t swearing like a sailor. 

Knowing she had herself covered, you used the distraction to run. The clown followed. 

Maneuvering in a room filled with dolls was difficult, but it was difficult for the clown as well. Following the eyes and where the clown had just been was key number two, all the eyes had been pointing towards it. Such a simple find, but the dolls and clown were such huge deterrents. 

In a sprint, you made a grab for the key notcaring as you rustledsome dolls and exited the main hall. Swamp monster, much like a game character, was waiting at the entrance to the dining room, and themoment he saw you run to the stairs, he was activated. 

“Jihyo, get to the door!” You screamed climbing the stairs two at a time and ignoring the fact that swamp monster and Pennywise himself were on your trail. Jihyo’s answer was only a snarl back, no doubt fending herself from Jason Voorhees. 

Making a quick right, you entered the room and sprinted straight to the metal door. Jihyo was in some circling match with Jason Voorhees as you slotted in key number two and turned it. When you slotted key number one and turned, the swamp monster, the clown, and the zombie piled into the room. 

“Jihyo!” You shoved open the door, which to your embarrassment, while coloured like metal, was not metal, so you nearly planted head-first into the ground when it swung open with ease. 

Catching yourself on the corroded metal railing, Jihyo followed you out and slammed the door shut. Both of you panted, staring at each other as noises from the carnival once again surrounded you. The back of the mansion was… barren to put it kindly. 

None of the money that was spent at the entrance and inside was spared for the back. It looked merely like a storage container. 

You crumpled to the floor, leaning on the railing, and sighed. Your camera stick fell by your thigh with a thunk as Jihyo closed her eyes. You were done. You made it out. 

“Well done, losers!” 

You looked over your shoulder, following the taunt and the clapping. Nayeon giggled as Jeongyeon slowly clapped from the ground. 

“Come down!” Jeongyeon said with a blinding grin as you pulled yourself up to stand. By the way, Jihyo held her jaw, you knew she was seething. However, she was far too exhausted to do anything. 

The pair of you took the stairs down and headed into a smaller shed by the mansion followed by Nayeon and Jeongyeon. Inside, the rest of your friends were gathered as well as the worker who had greeted you. The room was filled with cameras inside the mansion, two screens still transmitting from your camera sticks even as you handed them over.  

“Good job!” The worker said with a forced smile, though you glanced behind her. One of the cameras caught the swamp monster pulling off his mask and taking a seat on one of the chairs while Jason Voorhees just flopped to the floor, his head tilted to the ceiling. All the while Pennywise and the zombie helped clean their respective rooms with the help of cleaners. 

“We’re sorry,” you sighed, Jihyo only nodded, her eyes were still narrowed. She looked anything but apologetic, but you knew she was. “Adrenaline just—poof, you know?”

“It’s alright,” the worker sighs, her taut smile dipping more into a genuine one. “It happens.”

“Yeah, Pennywise said that,” you gave her a small smile. “Good experience, good game. Terrified the shit out of us.”

You ignored the way your friends laughed behind you.

“Please rate us well on the website,” you nodded as the worker pointed out a QR code printed out on the wall. 

While Jeongyeon pulled out her phone to do that, Jihyo sighed and stepped forward. “What was our time?” 

There was no point in asking. The pair of you definitely did not beat the eight-minute record. 

With a frown, the worker answered. “Twenty-seven minutes and fifty-four seconds—”

“Twenty-eight minutes,” Jihyo’s entire form deflated like a burst balloon. You rolled your eyes at her while your friends laughed. 

Instead, you asked a question that bugged you most as you studied the camera screens. 

“Where is the fifth one? Ghost lady?” 

The worker frowned as your friends became silent. Both you and Jihyo looked around to meet everyone’s faces, their expressions ranging from confusion to apprehension. 

“The one in the storage room? She was crying,” you prompted again, glancing back at the cameras to see the four monsters now all in the dining room picking up the utensils you spilt. 

When the worker cleared her throat, you and Jihyo turned back. Her face ashen as she gulped. 

“There is no crying ghost.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i believe the house was based off of coraline house and the painting i described was judith slaying holofernes by artemisia gentileschi :] gonna go binge gose now, good day/night everybody !

“Babe,” Momo’s voice was soft as she came down the stairs and into the kitchen, “there seem to have been some changes to my schedule.”

“Hmm?” you forced yourself to turn away from her and got busy with fixing a fresh pot of coffee.

She didn’t need to see the smile threatening to spread across your face, or the fact that you had been up until two last night coordinating new flight details after a hastily sent email by HQ.

“Yeah, so the new warehouse opening doesn’t actually need me there after all. My flight’s been postponed.” After a few more taps to her phone screen, she set it aside to lean against the kitchen counter.

You finally smiled as you came closer, handing her a mug of freshly made coffee.

“Well, that’s good news! That means you can accompany me today.”

It was only then that her gaze landed on the heaps of baked goods neatly packed on the counters.

Her eyes widened. “That’s today?”

“Yep,” you smirked, before downing your coffee in one go.

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

And just like that, internationally feared assassin Hirai Momo had turned into a whining child.

You smothered a laugh as you gestured for her to hurry up with breakfast. “The poster said the events start at nine, but we need to get there earlier so I can set up.”

By the time you had changed out of your pyjamas, made your bed, and rushed downstairs with sunscreen in hand, you found Momo still at the counter where you had left her.

She sat there picking at her singular slice of toast as if having to attend a community sports day was the biggest trial of her life. 

“Hey,” you nudged her shoulder from behind. “It’s eight thirty, come on.”

She heaved a deep sigh, clearly not prepared to face the entirety of the neighbourhood and have to interact with them for hours.

You rubbed her shoulder gently as you continued, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather spend more time with me than at some warehouse in a random city?”

The tension left her shoulders at that, and she turned her head to place a quick kiss upon your knuckles. “You’re right, I’ll go get changed.”

You hummed to yourself as you went over your checklist one last time, making sure you had all the items needed to set up your stall. When the event had first been announced, you had immediately volunteered to take responsibility for the snacks, knowing in advance that Momo wouldn’t have been there on that Friday. As luck would have it, however, her canceled flight from last night meant you’d just have to handle both the stall, and participate in whatever shenanigans Momo came up with on the sports field.

The subject of your thoughts rounded the corner just as you ticked off the last item, leaving you to stare at her unashamedly. Momo was dressed in black cargo pants, with a matching black sweatshirt. Under the sweatshirt, you could make out hints of her favourite exercise crop top, just in case it got too hot. To top off the all-black ensemble, she was also sporting a black wristband on her left hand. 

As your eyes looked her over from head to toe, you slowly began. “You do know this is a community event, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe a little colour wouldn’t go amiss?”

You were met with a glare as she flipped you off over her shoulder and went to lace up her shoes. While neither of you sported very flashy wardrobes and preferred a more minimalistic style, you hadn’t expected her to come out dressing like that.

Although you supposed, as you looked at your own black and white tracksuit and navy baseball cap, you probably weren’t much better.

“Help me out with these, will you?” you said as you handed over containers filled with cupcakes and croissants. 

You giggled as you looked at her in the process, her outfit catching your eye once again. “You look like –” an assassin, you had almost blurted out. Shaking your head, you grabbed a few containers of your own and locked the door behind you.

As you headed down to the local high school where the sports events were being held, Momo peered into the boxes stacked in her arms. 

“Why are they all chocolate croissants?”

“Because of you!” You gestured as much as you could without dropping everything you were holding. “You’ve been obsessed with them ever since you got back from Bordeaux!”

She hummed in agreement. “They really are the best thing I’ve ever had, but I love piano chocolate more now that you make them.”

You smiled at the sentiment but couldn’t resist correcting her. “Pain au chocolat.”

“That’s what I said!”

It had been an hour since the events had begun, and Momo was nowhere to be seen.

To be fair to her, she had helped set up your stall, and had hung around for a bit before ‘deciding to take a walk around’. Since then, you’d been too busy to keep an eye out for her. Your baked goods were in high demand; with most people having skipped breakfast in their excitement, your stall was naturally the first place they beelined towards for their morning quota of sugar. 

You smiled absentmindedly as you watched children run around with spoons in their mouths, and hop in jute sacks. Their events had begun first, and the games for adults were only just being announced. Just then, you spotted someone walking around like they were cosplaying the  Grim Reaper. Ah, so there Momo was.

She neared the stall while you were in the midst of assembling an order for Mrs Kapoor, stopped briefly to pull her sweatshirt off, and tied it around your waist in a single swift motion. Before you could manage to get a word out of her, (or get a look at her toned arms), she had already pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Is she joining the games?” Mrs Kapoor asked with a smile as you handed over her bag of croissants. You could only stare back in response.

There’s no way.

There was no way that Momo would willingly join in silly community games with the other adults in this town. The same Momo who had groaned and sighed her way out of the house this morning. And yet, you watched with growing disbelief as she positioned herself into a row with a handful of other parents, surrounded by a gaggle of screaming kids. The first game was nothing out of the ordinary, just a simple race around the track with Momo being leagues ahead of all the middle-aged parents whose only exercise was keeping up with the energies of their children. 

The track ended just a few meters away from where your stall was set up, allowing Momo to conveniently jog up to you, not even so much as having broken a sweat.

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me! What are you doing?”

She looked confused. “A run? We were just warming up for the–”

“We? I didn’t think you’d take part in these, Momo.”

She scratched her head. “Oh. Well, yeah as I said, I was just taking a walk around, but then I think some kid from the other day recognised me?”

“Can I get three of the chocolate croissants, please? I’ve heard they’re delicious.”

The two of you froze as your neighbour Mr Jones’ voice interrupted Momo’s explanation. 

Curse that old man and his timing.

You turned your back to Momo and hurriedly shoved three croissants into a paper bag. You had been right to make extra last evening, as you knew they’d be popular. Although what the old man was risking with this much sugar, you didn’t want to think about.

By the time you turned back around, Momo had moved closer and was twisting open the cap of a water bottle. You could tell from her face that she had forgotten where her story had been interrupted.

“So…kid from the other day?”

“Right.” She snapped her fingers. “From the basketball court. He came up to me and asked if I was going to be in any of the games. And obviously, I said no.”

She paused to take a sip from her bottle.

“But then! He said his dad was a faster runner than I was, so of course I had to show the little punk how wrong he was.” She smirked, tossing her hair behind her for effect.

She looked at you with gleaming eyes, probably expecting some congratulations for her race. Instead, you could only laugh at her. 

“You’re telling me you entered into a race because a ten-year-old said you couldn’t win?”

“Well, I, I…” she started indignantly but then sputtered off when she realised she had no real defense.

Still chuckling, you moved to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Are you going to enter any other games? Any more kids you need to prove wrong?”

“Don’t tease,” she pouted. “I couldn’t tell you right away because the race was about to begin.” In the distance, another game between the adults had already started; some pairing off of sorts was occurring between the couples taking part.

The two of you watched it unfold as Momo finished off the rest of her water. Two elementary schoolers ran up to the stall, and you readied yourself with paper bags, assuming they’d want some cupcakes. 

Surprisingly, they completely ignored the sweets and tugged at Momo’s hands. “Come on! My mommy doesn’t have a partner!” 

Momo’s eyes widened, and so did yours. It seemed like her athletic feats had spread amongst all the children, and now everyone wanted her to take part in the events. It seemed like a strange sort of deja vu as you watched her be dragged away once again, the empty bottle still in her hand.

You resigned yourself to her absence as you finally pulled out your folding chair and took a seat behind your fast-depleting table of snacks. You had to admit, having a first-row view of whatever Momo was doing out there was pretty entertaining. You watched as she finished whatever the partner game was about and tried to leave the track only to get surrounded by children pushing her back in. After a couple of attempts at pushing through, she caught your eye and mouthed ‘help!’.  

You could only shake your head and smile, busying yourself with setting out more containers and stacking all the empty ones. You didn’t really need to do all this organising, but you felt fidgety without Momo there to hold your hand.

Knowing she was oceans away and at work was one thing, and you had learned how to live with the distance, but having her right in front of you yet far away was a new experience. You shook yourself out of such codependent thoughts and decided to take a quick walk yourself if only to see what everyone else was up to.

To keep the kids from getting too distracted, a combination event had been organised. Adults were standing with baskets, trying to catch the balls the children threw at them. You circled around to where Momo was, dodging more balls than she was catching. 

“This looks fun,” you said nonchalantly.

“Y/N! Hi, this game… is so much… fun.” You could make out the sarcasm even as she said the sentence through punctuated breaths. 

A whistle signaled the end, and everyone on Momo’s team crowded around her to count the number of balls in the basket. Despite how terrible she was at catching, she was somehow better than all the other adults, and the kids rewarded her with loud cheers. 

Gently disentangling herself from the crowd after a short break was announced, she hurried up to you and grabbed your arm. “Let’s go home!”

“What, now?”

“Yes,” she shook the arm she was gripping onto. “Come on!”

“Momo, I said I would hold this stall until lunch. That’s still an hour and a half away, we can't just leave.”

She deflated. “I just don’t know how to say no to the kids,” she whispered.

“Take a break with me,” you walked her back to your stall and opted to settle onto the floor in lieu of the singular folding chair that had been provided. You broke off half a cupcake and held it out to her as she sank down next to you with a tired groan. 

“Does this beat being on a plane or…?”

She chewed thoughtfully, “The silence on a plane is definitely better, but you’re here with me so,” she bumped your shoulder with hers, reaching for a croissant next.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure this is better than having to deal with new employees at that warehouse.”

She fixed you with a pointed look. “Yeah.”

You leaned in to steal a bite of her croissant, playfully shoving her as you stated, “These are for the players by the way, so don’t finish them off.”

“Technically, I am a player too. That means I can eat as many as I want.”

Eventually having had her fill, she brushed the crumbs off her pants before standing up and stretching her arms. You leaned back on your arms if only to stare at her more comfortably. “Are you headed back to the field?”

She nodded, pointing towards nothing in particular. “Tug of war is about to start, and where would the team be without my strength?”

Well. You couldn’t really argue with that, so you bid her adieu with a chirpy ‘good luck!’.

The sugar in her system seemed to have helped, as she jogged back to where teams were beginning to form. As soon as she was near enough to be spotted, the surrounding children started clapping and hollering once again, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind about who the winner of this event would be.

Stationed at the very end of the rope, Momo easily led her team to victory in tug of war, followed by dragging around her unsuspecting partner during the three-legged race. Dodgeball saw the opposing team moving muscles they had not moved in years, as they jumped and dived in an attempt to avoid her fiery attacks. As you enjoyed your view from the sidelines, one of the parents came up to you. 

“That wife of yours, she’s really into this, huh?”

You smiled in sympathy. From his flushed and sweaty face, he had probably had the misfortune of being in the team against her.  

“She can get pretty competitive I guess,” you shrugged. “Here, have a cupcake, you look like you could use the sugar.”

He scoffed, before grabbing the cupcake as though it had personally offended him.

The games soon came to a halt. It was time for families to grab some lunch (with a side of socialising). You looked at your empty containers stacked neatly along the side of the table, with the exception of the last pain au chocolat you had been saving for Momo. The break had come perfectly in time.

“Behold, the reigning champion!” you called out loudly as Momo waved goodbye to her young fans and approached you.

She swatted at your arm to shut you up before leaning in closer.

“Hi.”

You smiled at her nuzzling into your shoulder. “Hello to you too. I saved you the last ‘piano chocolate’.”

She lifted her head from where it had been resting before narrowing her eyes at you. “It sounds different when you say it like that.”

“Anyways, you don’t happen to have a hair-tie, do you? It’s starting to get really hot,” you were rolling the sleeve of your tracksuit back before she had even finished her sentence, showing her the two hair-ties you always carried on your wrist.

“A lifesaver,” she muttered, grabbing one and shaking her hair back.

Her eyes roamed the milling crowd as she tied her hair. “Oh no, Mr and Mrs Yu.”

“Hmm?”

“They’re coming this way, we need to hide.”

Momo’s sentiments of going unnoticed by them were warranted. A couple with three children, Mr and Mrs Yu had never failed to mention the joys of parenthood in every single conversation you had with them. And you just knew that after Momo’s interactions with the children today, they would have something to say about it.

You watched Momo as she, in turn, watched the approaching couple with growing panic, before hastily looking around her for somewhere to hide. She grabbed one of the empty containers and attempted to…lift it up to her head to…block out her vision?

Just what was she trying to do?

You could only gape at her as the Yus were temporarily slowed down by their youngest child tripping on the ground.

“Momo!”

“What, are they here yet?” she whispered, frantically gesturing at you to pick up a container too. For all her evasive maneuvers and disguises as Agent 64, she was being incredibly dense at this instant. 

You tugged her around the table, ignoring her whispered shouts of ‘they’ll see us!’, and struck up a quick conversation with a surprised Mrs Kapoor, who had been sitting to the side with a sandwich.

“Hi Mrs Kapoor, hope you enjoyed the croissants.” You plastered on an all-too-big smile, side-eyeing Momo and hoping she’d get the memo.

Thankfully, she caught on after a split-second. “Yes, I hope you liked them. They’re my favourite recipe that Y/N makes.”

Mrs Kapoor smiled politely and put her sandwich away. “The sweetness of the chocolate was just perfect! I might order some for when my daughter comes home from university. The spring break is about to begin you see,” she said by way of an explanation. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Mr and Mrs Yu retreating; now that their childless targets were busy, they had no one to preach to.

“That’s great! I’ll surely keep that in mind, and feel free to call me whenever you want them.”

“I might even get some for myself before she comes,” Mrs Kapoor laughed.

“Of course, I’m pretty sure I’ll always have ingredients on hand because,” you nudged Momo, “as she mentioned, they’re her favourite.”

With that, you graciously said goodbye, and the two of you headed to the main street to get yourselves some lunch.

It seemed that you two weren’t the only ones who had decided to eat at the town’s lone burger joint. As soon as you walked through, a bunch of pre-teens in the middle of their lunch turned their heads to where you were standing, and beckoned Momo over.

Your incredulous, ‘They know you by name?’, was heard by no one as the kids spoke over each other to talk to Momo. You sighed and took it upon yourself to order for Momo too, seeing as she was currently busy.

She looked a bit awkward trying to make conversation with twelve-year-old girls, but you had to appreciate the effort she was making. You walked over with the tray holding your burgers and she immediately made space for you on the tiny bench she was occupying. 

“No pickles, babe,” you handed over hers before digging into yours. Momo hummed appreciatively as she unwrapped her packaging.

The two of you had barely managed to take a few bites before one of the girls gushed, “Where did you buy your clothes from, they look so cool!” 

“Oh, um,” Momo looked surprised at having been asked this mid-bite, “I don’t exactly remember. They’re not from one specific place, I think the pants are from Prague?” She looked at you for confirmation as the girls ooh-ed at her response.

“The all-black is so cool, you look like a spy taking down bad guys!”

You froze halfway through wiping your mouth with a napkin as Momo almost choked at that declaration. Her wide eyes met yours, out of instinct surely, why else would she want to share the surprise of this remark?

Recovering just as quickly, she turned away and swallowed hard before flashing a small smile towards the girl vibrating in her seat out of excitement. “Spies are cool, indeed.” 

Once the burgers had been demolished, the burger joint eventually emptied out as everyone made their way back to the high school track. Having no more baked goods to give out, you were technically free to spend the rest of the day as you wanted, but there was one last event to be held. 

The heat of the morning had been replaced by a steady breeze, and you untied the sweatshirt that had been around your waist this whole time, draping it over Momo’s shoulders. As you walked hand in hand with Momo, you observed the new changes to the track. Over the course of the lunch hours, the space had been transformed into an obstacle course. Not as elaborate as ones you’d seen before, obviously, but still pretty remarkable for a town of this scale. 

“Woah, I wonder if this is a team game,” Momo seemed as in awe of the course as you were.

The two of you split ways as she went to inquire about when the obstacle course was starting, while you quickly ran back to your stall to fetch the croissant you had been saving this whole time.

Wrapping it securely in a tissue, you briskly walked to where Momo was standing, alone for the first time the whole day. It seemed that the course had two parallel lines running together, and although it wasn’t a team event, two individuals would be able to do the course simultaneously. 

“Dessert for your thoughts?” you held out the wrapped pastry.

She shook herself, seemingly clearing her head before taking the croissant from you with a kiss to your palm. Whatever she seemed like she was about to say was interrupted by a whistle, announcing the beginning of the course. 

You waited at the sidelines as she devoured the croissant on her way to where the crowds had begun to gather again, hoping to cheer her on properly this time. However, as she neared the starting line, no one else seemed to step forward. There was a slight unease through the crowd, as though they were afraid of being asked to race against her. You watched her come to this realisation too, as her eyes darted around the parents standing together in a huddle. 

In a second, your mind was made. Never mind the fact that you hadn’t properly warmed up for any athletic activity, you wouldn’t let Momo do the obstacle course alone. You separated from the sidelines and jogged over to the second line of the course; Momo, seeing you approach, immediately positioned herself on the first. You grinned at each other as the rules were quickly explained. 

Just before the whistle signaling the start of the countdown was blown, you shook hands as Momo turned to you with a shine in her eyes. At that moment, you suddenly understood what she had been thinking about just a few minutes before—she had wanted you to take part in the course too but had not known how to spring it upon you. 

Well, you thought, tightening your cap over your head, it was all too well that the rest of the adults were too scared to go against her. It afforded you the opportunity to participate in an activity right alongside Momo, bridging the space that had circumstantially persisted all throughout the morning.

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

@cfvgbhndun-new-blog

Chaotic gay. Simping for so many people I can't keep up. Down bad for Dr Kim. Likes to give me heart attacks with gifs of pwetty girls. Called me a toddler.😤

@someone-who-likes-broccoli

Chaotic twice stan. My #1 fan. Second command of my depresso army. Is an orphan child with cats that are looking low-key traumatised. My favourite grandma.

🐯 Anon

My bestie. Chaewon's gf. We live in Delululand together. Best Chaotic Bi duo. We're giving each other tattoos, one will def be worse than the other.

@siyooungi

Super sweet! Amazing writer! Occasionally likes to make me gay panic. Helped me name my plant child. Teases too much for my heart to handle.

@sanccharine

So much in common. Food without spice is literally flavourless, don't fight us on it. Coloniser haters tgt. Both lost children who just wanna go home fr.

Hanahaki Anon

We have dream parties! In a chaotic lego building group with the fimmies and 🐯 anon. Enjoys teasing me. Simp anon with a death wish. Is dying of love for Mina.

@foolish-sparrow

Siyeon simp. Gives me a heart attack every time she appears. Was kinda smooth sliding into my dms /j. Amazing writer! My first follower.

@perfectsunlight

We're in cahoots, spoiler besties. FEEDING THE GAYS 24/7. We always talk in all caps cause we're chaotic. Yu Jimin's wife- (she made me write that smh).

@dark-night-insomniac

One of the sweetest people! Lets me ramble about bs. Has the most adorable pup. Another good writer.

@starrynini05

Looking forwards to seeing her writing! Good vibes! I will find out more about her one day!

@hwangyejissnacks

This was a scene you would never find yourself in. Loud music, dimmed lights, unfamiliar bodies moving along. A college party like every other that is described in every movie and book alike. You didn’t know anyone here. Well, that wasn’t solely true. 

This wasn’t Tzuyu’s regular scene either. For the most part she’d been hesitant to go when she received the invite. Her one saving grace was that she could bring a plus one; that was how you ended up sticking to a corner from where you could see the whole party unfold. 

 A collection of people thrown across the couch and floor, playing cards. Another group on the patio by the illuminated pool. There were a few by the open kitchen, pouring drinks and munching on finger foods in between. Then the most obvious crowd; a mangle of bodies on the dance floor. 

To some extent, it was admirable. The current song playing is not one you would consider exactly danceable, but people found a way. Couples intertwined, close and embracing, far and grinning, pulled close and thrown apart. But having fun, nonetheless. The slight envy aside, about them being so free, it was entertaining to watch. 

When Tzuyu came over to your corner, she’d returned with a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. She also wore a grin that bordered on imaginary. You know she had friends here, a lot of them. You know you were mostly body support, and more probable, a safety accommodation for transport after the party. So it makes sense she’d be having fun, even if she doesn’t necessarily think she belongs. 

“You okay?” she asks, head tilted to the left. The question was softer than her usual tone. 

“Checking up on me again?” you scoff, though there was no derision. Every so often, she’d make her round back to you. Sometimes with food, maybe another drink that she’d leave behind for you to finish, mostly to ask that same question. “I’m fine,” you reassure her, “you don’t need to keep asking.”

“Yeah, well, I want to,” she huffed out, running her hands through her hair, mussing it up. 

The silky waves she’d spent an hour styling were losing shape. And you wouldn’t admit it to her, not unless she’d send you a death glare, but they looked more alluring now. Inviting, even. 

Without a second thought, you raised your hand to fix a strand which defied its position, sticking out far too much. Tzuyu stilled, a delicate smile pulling up her perfectly tinted lips. 

“Better?” she asks, with a twinkle in her gaze that bordered on mischievous. You just nodded, going to pull your phone so she could check for herself. She pushed the hand away. “I trust you.” 

Her hand lingered, making a path down your wrist and entwining your fingers with hers. Holding her hand is nothing new. It was the look she was giving you that made your head spin. Though it could be all the alcohol, too. 

She tugged and you stumbled a step closer. Tzuyu’s grin grew and you just about pieced what she was up to. Not that it mattered to her. She used her free hand to grab your empty solo cup, the one you’d been nursing despite it being empty and chucked it aside. 

“Uh! Littering!” you turned, gasping with mock offence, hoping she’d let you go. Instead, Tzuyu grabbed your other hand and pulled you to the edges of the swaying crowd. “Tzu—”

She only shook her head, another yank had you teetering into her. Tzuyu only laughed, head tipped back and eyes closed. There wasn’t much you could do but grin at the sight of her. 

Most of the initial dancing, if you could call it that, was just swaying. Finding the beat that kept changing, it was an interesting playlist. Though it wasn’t reason enough to escape Tzuyu’s grasp. 

“Relax,” she ordered, as if it were an easy task. 

Tzuyu’s presence near you did help.  

Then it was conjoined hands, some mockery of waltz, with the occasional twirl where you ended up laughing when it ended up clunky. You were finally loosening up. When the tempo kicked up, a song you recognised, the pair of you jumped. Singing along to the words. Moving came about easier. 

That was all it took and before you knew it. Your own forehead was perspired, hair in your face, and clothes out of order. Worth it. 

It was your turn to pull her closer, hands wrapping around her hips as if they knew their place. When your fingers tugged at her tank, a mere brush against her ribcage, her smile widened. Knowing. 

Tzuyu didn’t waste time. 

First, it was a gentle press of her forehead to yours. The last, was the feel of her lips on yours. A mere brush, tender in all its heart. A simple act. 

Chuckling, you hooked your arms completely around her into a hug. Tzuyu pressed one last kiss to the junction where your jaw meets your neck, before melting into you.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: kiss your friends guys !

It was too much. 

Too much. 

The weekend is almost over and what have you accomplished? 

After the encounter with San, it was hard for you to do anything. Not to mention just turning back into your house brought you to the sight of the horrid living room and just everything it meant. In addition, your mother called again. You didn’t pick up. Perhaps she’d called to ask how the bedframe was coming along, which in reality was a mess of planks and screws in your bedroom. 

Thus, it was another night on the couch. 

Even as you closed your eyes, you could feel your forehead overheating like a decade-old laptop with an overworked cooling fan—dysfuntional at best, beyond repair at worst. 

There was so much to get through. Everything with your house, the unpacking, setting up your home, what was supposed to be shared with your then soon-to-be spouse had just fallen right through your hands. Now there was sorting the mess that was left behind. 

You were grateful that you weren’t actually married, divorce lawyers and a court hearing and the like would have just about ended your life. But then, you were stuck in this weird limbo where nothing has stopped but yet nothing is moving either and it makes it all so very frustrating.

That’s not taking into consideration how people around you will take to the news. How much longer could you continue postponing your calls with your parents? How much longer could you convince yourself that you lied to your mother successfully? How much longer until your father has the chance to say he told you so? How long could you stall until you prove that your hardwork, whatever that meant or whatever it was, was all for nothing?

Your life merely an empty point, taking space as you work through the slog for the sake of it. 

And then to tie it altogether, there was your neighbour. A mounting one-sided dislike based on interactions that barely lasted a few minutes. You could feel it. That itching and clawing in your throat, the irrational torrent of thoughts which were borderline corrosive, all of it so immature. Unfortunately for him, San was at the wrong place at the wrong time, prodding a dormant mine in a forgotten field. 

Every sentence, every thought, every notion that arises around him has to be deliberated. Filtered, even. He was one more knock away from instigating a breakdown, of what nature was anyone’s guess. 

Deep down, you knew he was merely a scapegoat. Taking out your anger, your shame, your regrets on an innocent man who just so happens to be in the vicinity. You needed to avoid him. If not to hurt his feelings, then to at least preserve your dignity. 

So that is what you did. 

Sleep escaped you. Ruminating on every single mistake was preferred to your mind, and there you were, locked on your couch. Your eyes drooping without ever closing, your body overheating, almost feverish, as the sun rose. 

For the better part of the day, you stayed on the couch, almost comatose. Then there came a moment when hunger was unbearable which forced you to get to the kitchen to grab something from the fridge. Though it was nothing close to a meal. Just something to satiate the pain you felt in your stomach. 

By the time the sun had set, your mother called again. You declined the call. 

You tried building the frame again. The frame fell apart. 

You sorted out your clothes. His joined the rest of them on the floor. 

The sight was horrendous. Overwhelming. 

Too much. 

It was far too much. 

When you inhaled, your breath hitched, the beginnings of a breakdown you couldn’t afford. 

It was there. 

Almost. 

Then your doorbell rang. 

Your attention turned to your door, an exit point that seemed to grow further away with every second you stared at it. When your feet didn’t move from their spot, the door bell rang again forcing you to wade through the mess that was your living room to get to that door. 

Please don’t be San. 

Please.

Your pleas were answered but at a deadly cost. 

The moment your door opened, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

“Let me explain,” he said but you were already shutting the door. 

But much like last time, he caught the door to prevent it from shutting. 

“I’m sorry,” he tried again. His voice, the nerve of it to warble like he had any right to be in tears. “I made a mistake. I was wrong—just let me speak, will you?”

Along with his hand, he now had a foot in the threshold. But you blocked most of the entrance to your home with your body, your weight on the door. You were not letting him inside. He had no right to be here. 

“I need to explain—”

“No, you need to leave,” you said, leaning on the frame, not giving up on the fight with the door. 

Simply put, your ex-fiancee looked haggard. An image you have not been privy to since the rough final nights of your university years. His hair was a mess, far removed from the gelled back pristine look he usually wore to his office. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he’d lost sleep. Looking at him made you bring your hand to your own, fearful of how you might look. Then there was the matter of his clothes, which were oddly tight in all the wrong places. He’d probably stayed over at his friend’s place for the last two nights before making his way over here again. 

There was just a small sense of comfort of him being stranded and naked. But it was short-lived. 

“I know you like space after we fight, I didn’t want to call—didn’t want to give you some time, to process, to think over,” he paused his rambling for a moment to catch his breath. “To reconsider what you said.”

Fight? Process? Reconsider?

“Us,” he added, reading your mind flawlessly. 

That’s what happens when you spend years with someone. They tend to learn every small detail of how you tick. They learn your little quirks, the microexpressions, the words, the silence. They become a walking instruction manual on how to put you together. Which just so happens to be the manual that allows them access to completely tear you apart.  

He was right. Annoying as it is, he was right. 

You liked your space. Especially after fights. You needed the time alone. To process what was happening, what you were feeling, only so you don’t explode violently. And he’d done just that. Give you space. Now that you think about it, you don’t remember any calls or texts from over the past twenty-four hours. Not that your memory serves anything, considering you ignored most of your calls and texts… but he really hadn’t reached out. 

Because he knew. 

He knew you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You wished you could say he looked or sounded insincere. But it was that small voice of his, shaky and barely there as he said those words that made you feel a mixture of things. But he must know what you were thinking. 

“Please don’t end this.” 

He uttered the words and you let them float in the air for a moment. 

Here he was, begging you to reconsider the relationship—not that it existed anymore—when you don’t even know why you were even listening to him. 

“You ended it.” 

“Don’t say that—”

“You ended this!” your voice was a hoarse scream, fracturing in real time much like a magma cracking solid rock. “You did this!”

Your ex raised his hands, taking a step back, a feeble attempt to placate you, not that he ever could. He’d miscalculated, both on how hot your anger boiled and his leverage on the door. Taking the chance, you slammed the door so hard the frame rattled. 

Just in time too, because burning tears fell down your cheeks, endless since no amount of wiping them away dissuaded them. Unable to do much than pace around your house, you hoped the action will, plus the tears, will tire you out. Your ex still remained, forgoing the doorbell for his fists. You don’t know what was worse. 

Wait him out, that was all you could do, but even after twenty minutes you could hear your ex’s rambling. In your frantic pacing, you missed the glint on the messy ground of your living room. 

Swearing, you pulled up your left foot to check the sole. Hard metal had been crushed underneath, cutting into your skin and considering your house was a mess of nails, you were not in the mood to contract tetanus. 

You still had some luck left in you. A screw hadn’t lodged itself into your skin. You turned your attention away from the impression on your skin to the silver on the ground. 

No.

Wrong.

Your luck was still depleted. 

Your wedding band, the one you’d hurled previously, made itself known. Mocking you. 

A hiccup left you, all mangled between a sob and a cough. 

When a faint buzzing was heard, you clamped a hand over your mouth. It was incessant. 

And worst of all, there was a knock on the door. 

It was too much.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: say you and your best friend get a tattoo together, what tattoo would it be ? personally i was thinking my little pony cutie marks but then it has to be character appropriate you know ? and yes this question definitely has to do with the fic, i need ideas :]

masterlist | chapter 3 | chapter 5

taglist: @eternallyghosting  @marvolos  @dawn-iscozy  @vannerriin

“Good work in Johor Bahru, 64. The organization wants you to leave for Bergen right away. Proceed to the airport immediately. I’ll be sending over travel details soon.”

You were met with silence.

“64? Can you hear me?” Momo didn’t answer. 

You sighed, “64, I know it’s a bit of a long flight.” That was the understatement of the century. “But at least that’ll give you some time to recuperate before the next mission, right?”

“I don’t need to recuperate,” Momo mumbled. 

You hesitated for a moment. Clearly, she needed the rest, you didn’t know why she wasn’t being honest. 

“Listen, 64, I know it’s hard—” you began.

“I don’t think you do,” Momo let out a derisive laugh. You swallowed the rest of your sentence.

“Alright, I’ve obviously hit a nerve but I think—”

“I’m not asking you to think! Or sympathise! Or whatever it is you’re trying to do,” Momo spat. “Maybe just do your part of the job and I do mine, yeah, Hippolyta?” 

This was a new development. But not unfounded.

“Sorry,” she said after a few seconds of awkward silence, the waver in her breath caught by your sensitive earpiece. “Sorry, I’m just tired, alright? Please go on.”

“Uh, alright, as I was saying. After this, your Costa Rica mission has been pushed forward by a week. The client wants the cartel taken out as soon as possible,” it was difficult to give her the next order. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave for San Jose as soon as you wrap up in Bergen, 64.” 

You tried not to let the disappointment show in your voice. Your organization was currently going through an overdrive, which meant more missions kept piling on, leaving no rest for Momo. It had been weeks since you had last seen your wife, last hugged her, or held her. 

She reflected your disappointment as she just sighed. It must be harder for her. 

“Hey, 64,” it was so hard to be personable when you couldn’t say her name. You hoped your voice made up for it. “I’m sorry, I know—”

“You know nothing!” 

Whatever calm had come across her in the last few minutes instantly vanished. 

“You know nothing of what it’s like! What it’s like to be out here for hours on end! To stalk and hunt and kill! Actually, you know, it’s not even about lying in the dirt, or carrying around heavy weaponry, or eating shit for days just to stay undercover. That I can deal with,” Momo let out another scoff. “It’s the waiting that gets to you—it’s the travel, it’s the constant seeking of approval just to get back home… ” 

Once she started, it was hard to control everything bursting out of her. Although she had become pretty comfortable with Hippolyta, and often shared random conversations with them, this was the first time she had let anything personal spill. You couldn’t help but startle initially, but now you just sat there taking the verbal lashing. This wasn’t your fault, you were aware of that much. So why did it feel like it was?

“Mo… hmm, I—” you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying her name. Your heart ached for her. Not just because she was away from you, but also because you couldn’t share this burden with her. You couldn’t help her lighten the load.

Not as her handler. Not as her Y/N. 

You waited for Momo’s breath to even out. When she didn’t say anything, you decided to start again. 

“I may not know what it’s like being out on the field,” you had to tread carefully here. “But I do understand what it’s like being away from your loved one.” 

Your breath hitched when you admitted that. Neither of you had ever let something this personal come into your agent-handler relationship before.

“It’s just the kind of job we signed up for,” that’s all this was. A job. “I won’t deny it’s a shitty situation, but after that one week, you’re done. You can go home. I promise you that.”

The long silence almost had you double-checking the connection of the call.

“Hey, 64, you there?”

You were met with silence.

“Agent, I need an affirmation.”

“... Alright,” she whispered.

It wasn’t much, but you’d take it. After all, Momo had never strayed from official orders before. Not enough to risk her job, at least.

“Wait, what? So you’re telling me—”

“Yup, I’m in Bergen right now.”

“Woah, how did that happen? That must’ve been an insane journey!” you sounded fake to your own ears. You hoped Momo didn’t catch on.

“Yeah, remember when I didn’t answer any of your texts a few days ago?” Momo let out a laugh, there was no mirth to it. “I was on a plane the whole time.”

“I just assumed you lost track of time playing Candy Crush or something.”

That did bring a real laugh out of her. 

“Well, that too,” she said. “Did you know I’m on level 651 now?”

“Real impressive, babe,” you said toying with the earpiece, discarded on the coffee table from your last call. “But anyways, when are you coming back from Bergen then?”

She paused. You saw her pacing around her stuffy hotel room as she hesitantly answered. “Well, actually, I don’t think I can come home right away. They’re sending me to Costa Rica tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” you couldn’t help but glance at yourself in the tiny box on the screen from time to time. You hated how fake your expressions looked, how you couldn’t be honest with her even when she needed you most. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s some internal management thing,” Momo let out a frustrated groan. “They need someone who’s at a higher position to open up the San Jose branch. Just my luck it happened to be me they chose.”

Momo’s disappointed tone broke your heart. You knew this was coming, of course you did, but hearing it once again from your wife’s mouth made the distance much too real all over again.

Still, you tried for a smile. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure San Jose will be fun. I’ve heard they have amazing museums there!” Knowing how upset Momo was about the constant travel made you want to try harder to be supportive. “Maybe you can go and take goofy pictures in front of the sculptures like we did that one time in Prague, remember?” 

Unfortunately, it seemed that no efforts to cheer her up would work this time. She let out another long groan and threw herself on the bed. Bringing the phone really close to her face, she said, “I really just wanted to come back home. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you.”

Shit. Of all the times to have video called Momo. 

Averting your eyes from her teary ones so that you wouldn’t cry too, you attempted to comfort her. 

“I know how tiring it must be to constantly travel, don’t beat yourself up over it, Momo. And don’t worry about me, okay! I’m fine, truly! I’ll keep everything up and running here while you whip rookies out there into shape. It’s what we do, right?” you were trying to convince yourself instead of her. “Besides, Mr Jones invited us for dinner and I know you really don’t want to have to sit through that again, right?” 

“Still, though,” she whispered, “you shouldn't have to go through that by yourself. I'd rather sit through that than here all alone.”

Oh Momo. If only she knew that you were aware of what she was going through.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll distract him and ask about his ‘good ol’ golfing days’. That’ll have him chattering on for hours,” she chuckled at that, although it was muffled since half her face was pressed into the pillow. “And I’ll also go down to the store and buy those berries you like so I have a pie ready for you when you come home. We’ll spend our time relaxing. How does that sound?”

She nodded sleepily. Momo must be exhausted to the point of falling asleep right there on call.

You doubted she heard you but said it anyway.  

“Have a good night, Momo. I love you.” 

[11:52] Momo: im boarding now Y/N: Have a safe flight! See you soon <3 Momo: me too, cant wait to be home aaaaa Y/N: I’ll be waiting with your pie!

[16:37] Momo: just landed! Y/N: How was the flight? Momo: eh Momo: were you gonna pcik me up or should i take a cab Y/N: You’ll have to get a cab, sorry. I tried rescheduling it but the town committee meetup is at our place tonight. Momo: omg i legit forgot they still did those Momo: i can take a cab dw Momo: you must be so busy Y/N: Yeah, I’m just making sure all the snacks and drinks are ready. Y/N: Might have to make one more grocery run actually.

[17:20] Momo: found a cab Momo: should be home in 40 mins

She sighed. You must be really busy or else you rarely left her on read.

As the cab neared your street, she could see a crowd of people already gathered around the house. This was what living in a small town was like. Everyone knew each other, and so of course, offered to get together to help for any event you held, no matter how small. 

They have nothing better to do with their lives.

Okay. Perhaps, that was a bit harsh. 

Thankfully, Momo managed to slip into the house, unnoticed by all the townsfolk laying out chairs and tables filled with plates of snacks that you had made. Her stomach grumbled upon seeing all the food, but she hurried upstairs into your shared bedroom before dropping her suitcase and rushing to change out of her travel clothes.

What she really wanted was a long hot shower, maybe even a soak in the tub, but fresh clothes would have to do for now. On her way out of the room and down the stairs, she bumped into you.

“Y/N!” she yelled the same time you screamed. “Momo!”

This would be an incredibly stupid way to die, the voice in the back of your head said, you shushed it quickly and leaned on the stairway railing. The shock had subsided quickly and was replaced by elation; you hugged Momo as hard as you could with the cutlery in your hand.

You broke apart apologetically. “I’m sorry, I wish you could take a rest but the meeting’s starting soon and we’re still missing a few things.”

“No worries,” Momo shrugged it off, though there was no energy in her voice. “Anything I can do to help?”

You passed over the handful of cutlery to her as you hurriedly stated, “Yeah, could you just lay these out for me? And I think we still need to pour some juice for all the kids.”

Momo nodded and went down the stairs two at a time. As she rounded into the kitchen, she wished she’d taken a minute to mentally prepare herself for all the questions the neighbours would no doubt ask her.

She was right. As soon as she went over to the table, she heard. “Oh Momo, when did you get back? Y/N was telling us how you were away for really long.”

Momo forced on a polite smile, she had no idea who she was talking to. Perhaps having files on her neighbours might help, she thought to herself. She made a mental note to ask Y/N how they remembered all these people. “Yes, I had to travel quite a lot for some business-related things, but I’m just glad to be home now.”

“Where was it you went to? Malaysia, was it?” Momo’s vision blurred for a second. “I remember Y/N telling us we had to cancel the meeting two weeks ago.” 

“Mhmm, Malaysia. Then Norway. Now, I just got back from Costa Rica.” Might as well just tell them everything. Sure, why not. Momo tried not to be scornful, she really did. 

“Good Lord, Momo! How do you even manage all that?” That was something Momo wondered herself. “It sure is nice you have Y/N to manage everything here for you while you’re away.”

A burning sensation grew at the corner of her eyes, she would’ve rubbed them if her hands weren’t full of forks and spoons. 

It was a seemingly unharmful statement. 

Well, no. 

There was a bite in there somewhere, Momo was just too exhausted to dissect it. 

Momo ignored the scratchy feeling in her throat and turned away hurriedly, mumbling something about getting the juice out. As she approached the refrigerator, she unceremoniously dropped the cutlery on the counter. She opened the fridge, the cold air doing little to alleviate her tension. When she pulled out the carton of apple juice, she was undertaken with the sudden urge to leave. Being at this gathering was taking more of a toll on her than she had thought.

Momo needed to be alone. Now.

She walked into the pantry and into the cabinet Y/N made sure to leave empty ever since they’d found out about her meditation space. Well, Momo thought bitterly, it wasn’t just a meditation space now, was it?

Momo crouched down, hugging her knees and seeking comfort in the familiar darkness. She could still hear the faint voices of people as they rushed around the house, but this was the best she could do right now.

When Momo closed her eyes, she could feel every muscle pull taut. A headache bloomed at her temple, building down her face until even the act of breathing felt painful. She tried to focus on the warm scent of the ciabatta loaves you always had stocked up. How the bread broke and crumbled as she took a bite. How adamant you’d been to get the best stand mixer available. How you took your time to shape the dough and how Momo had flattened it with one motion. 

What she wouldn’t do to just have a simple sandwich with you. 

No loud music. No clanging cutlery. And definitely no nosy neighbours.

Just the two of you.

The pain seemed to slowly ebb away, she could finally breathe. Momo had no idea how long she stayed like that. She didn’t want to leave but she couldn’t even text Y/N to apologise for leaving them alone because she’d forgotten her phone with her luggage.

However, she didn’t have to wait long before the pantry door opened. 

Momo hid herself deeper in the cabinet when a knock came on its door, an excuse ready on her lips should she be found…

“Momo,” your voice was soft, she wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t pressed to the door. “It's me.”

Momo visibly relaxed when she heard Y/N.

“Can I come in?”

The answer was the opening of the cabinet door.

As soon as you lowered yourself onto the floor, Momo launched herself into your arms, clutching onto you as though her life depended on it. Confused by the sudden outburst but also suspecting what could have brought it on, you just gathered her closer and gently brushed her hair with your fingers.

“How did you… ”

“Find you here? Couldn't see you in the crowd so I figured,” you shrugged.

“Can we... can we just stay here for a moment?” she sniffled, burrowing her head into your neck.

“Momo, you don’t even have to ask. I’m here for you.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time intertwining your limbs against each other. You rubbed up and down her arms gently, taking deep breaths so she’d mirror you and relax.

When her breathing returned to a normal rate, you pulled back slightly to look at her face. Although still pale from hunger and exhaustion, she looked considerably better than she had a while ago.

“How’re you feeling?” you whispered.

“Still tired, but I’m okay now,” Momo said, her voice raspy. “Thanks for staying with me.”

You took a moment to take her in. The dim light couldn’t hide the bags under her eyes or how bloodshot they were. She had a pallid complexion, something you would’ve rushed to treat, but instead, you had this stupid meeting to run. But even then, Momo tried to put on a smile for you, as small as it was. Smiling, you pulled her in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

With a sigh, you pulled away from her. Her face was held up by your hands. “Although there hasn’t been any yelling or crashing yet, I don’t think it’s right to leave them without a host for too long.”

Momo languidly nodded her assent even when the rest of her body reacted differently. She pressed her forehead to yours until your noses were touching. 

Momo deserved to rest. And you wanted that for her too. If possible, you would have stayed here like this all night long. But alas… 

“I should probably head back,” you whispered. Momo only hummed. “but you can stay here longer if you—”

“No,” Momo mumbled. 

“No?” you asked, not wanting to pull away first. 

Momo did it for you. She exhaled a deep breath before pulling back, her eyes finally looking at you. 

“No, that's fine,” Momo said, shaking her head before helping herself up. Then she extended a hand to you. “We should host together, shouldn’t we?”

“We really should,” you took her hand and pulled yourself up. “I’ve already canceled this three times, I think they’d flip out if it was only me out there,” you said with a grimace. 

Holding hands, you exited the pantry together.

Thankfully, everyone was too caught up in the snacks you’d made to comment on your disappearance. Momo just ignored the few stares thrown her way. Making your way to the front of the living room, you called for everyone’s attention and began the town meeting, steadfastly holding onto Momo’s hand the entire time.

Although the townsfolk had also helped in clearing up after the meeting, there were a few things only you two could rearrange as the people living in the house. You wanted Momo to go upstairs and rest while you quickly cleaned up, but she was as stubborn as ever and refused to leave your side. Fortunately though, having two people definitely made the job go quicker, and before long, you were heading into the en-suite to draw a bath for Momo.

You turned off the hot water at the temperature you knew Momo liked most before adding a spoonful of lavender bath salts to the water, your gift to Momo from when she had returned from a mission complaining of sore muscles. She smiled gratefully at you as she slipped into the tub, leaving you to once again sit on the cold floor beside her. Not that you minded, you’d take any proximity you could get. The both of you just sat there, basking in the comfortable silence as Momo relieved her weary body.

Eventually, you spoke up, making sure to be cautious in the way you approached this topic. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?”

Momo looked at you with a look, a knowing one, but she turned her eyes away quickly. 

“What? About Hector?” Momo managed to laugh, it almost sounded real. “Yeah, it was funny when he stood up and demanded we vote for a stop sign near the corner store, only to realize we’ve had it all along and he needed to change his glasses prescription.”

“Momo,” you took her hand that was laying on the edge of the bathtub. “Seriously.”

She finally turned to face you with a sigh, deciding not to run away this time. 

“I was doing as you said, the cutlery, that is,” Momo’s finger intertwined with yours, she trained her focus on your joint hands. “Someone was asking me questions, I don’t know who, asking about my job and where I’d been and whatnot… and then suddenly,” she paused to take a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears.

You brought your other hand to engulf hers and rubbed your thumb across the back of her hand in circular motions.

“Suddenly, out of nowhere, they said something about how I’m lucky to have you manage everything around here while I’m away,” she trailed off, a small scoff escaping her. Momo mumbled, but you caught every word. “Well, not out of nowhere, they are right. I am lucky. I’m never here.”

“Momo…” 

She continued, talking through her tears, not bothering to wipe them away as they slipped down her cheeks. 

“I just… you’re the one who always has to manage things around here. I just feel bad, you know?” Momo straightened, turning her whole body to face you as an odd resolve washed over her. “Like, I’m always busy flying around somewhere but you always accommodate me and my work. But I don’t do anything like that for you? Actually, what do I even do?” At that, you wanted to stop her, but she kept going. “I guess I feel incompetent? I’m just equal parts grateful for you but also, I feel guilty.”

That was a lot to take in. Momo was never one to bare her soul, so for her to say all this meant she had been bottling it up for quite some time.

“Well, I see it differently,” you leaned in as you formed the words in your mind. “You’re doing all this to provide for us and you work so hard for it. This house, everything we have, is all possible because of you. I could never be upset about that, Momo.” 

“I guess,” Momo sounded unconvinced. “But like maybe I could do more local work? That way, I could stay at home with you and work?”

“As tempting as that is, I can’t ask that of you. I can’t say I don’t miss you when you’re gone. And of course, I love having you around.” 

You spoke slower so the words sunk in. 

“But you’re doing what you have to do,” you tried to be as vague as possible when saying the next few words. “I mean, your company sends you all over the world because you’re a hard worker, and a really good one at that. No one is going to be able to do what you do anytime soon and I’m proud of that. Of you.” 

Momo didn’t say anything, she was staring at something behind your head. Her eyebrows were furrowed together; for once, you couldn’t tell what she was thinking. 

“But the work itself… ” she trailed off, still staring into the distance.

That confession, if that was what she was planning it to be, had you on alert. You had to be careful here. Somehow, you had to glean Momo’s feelings about her ‘actual job’ without asking outright questions about it. 

“What about the work, baby?” you asked. The term of endearment felt sour on your lips. Momo didn’t look at you. 

You had to bite your tongue from interrogating her. Is it monotonous? Is it stressful? Are you having second thoughts about killing? Do you want to be transferred? What’s wrong? What can I do? How can I fix it?

She didn’t speak for a long time. 

Panic was beginning to sink its claws into your skin. You were a good liar, but not that good. 

Fortunately for you, Momo began once again. 

“The work… I mean, sure, every job has its own boring routine and mine does too. It is exciting at times and I’m good at it too, which I can’t confidently say for a lot of other things,” you wanted to interrupt her and tell her how wonderful she was, but she spoke over you. “And I don’t really want to quit right now because we’re also earning decently.“ 

“Enough for an early retirement in the Swiss Alps, right?” you uttered before you could even think about it. 

When she had first been accepted as an agent by your organisation, Momo had excitedly jumped around your tiny one-bedroom flat. Making big talk about how the two of you would buy a cottage in the Swiss Alps and go skiing every day in the winter and strawberry picking every day in the summer.

Reminiscing about the memory bought a real smile out of her. “Exactly.”

But the smile slowly faded as she kept talking. “I just… wish I didn’t always have to keep traveling. I barely get a few days with you before I have to fly out again. And I know that’s a part of my job, it's just that this time around was too long.”

You silently agreed. What was the organisation thinking, making an agent go three weeks out in the field, one mission after the other. You don’t even recall how many cups of coffee you’d downed just to keep up with the time differences. 

“Well, you’re here now,” you placed a kiss over your joined hands. “And we’re going to make the most of it. Hopefully, you get more than a few days this time.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she repeated, although she sounded anything but.

You bit back the long sigh and nudged her instead, looking for a way to divert her attention. “I couldn’t tell you before, but your pie’s waiting for you in the fridge.”

Momo sat up at that. You jerked back to narrowly avoid being splashed by water. “Me too! Well, not a pie but I did manage to bring back a dessert called Cajetas this time. I didn’t have time to taste it but the lady selling them told me they’re a staple.” 

Her eyes finally regained their usual shine at the mention of the two of you sharing desserts. It had been a longtime tradition for you to bake her favorites when she came back from a long journey, and for her to get local items you both could try together.

“Unfortunately, I’m too stuffed now,” she finally relaxed into the tub, tipping her head back. “Those finger sandwiches were delicious Y/N. What did you put in them?”

“Love,” you said dreamily, before pressing another kiss to the hand you were holding. Momo pulled away and cringed. “What, too much?” you laughed, “besides, I don’t think they were that amazing. You were just really hungry,” you said, poking her shoulder.

Momo just hummed as a comfortable silence fell over the pair of you.

Although the bathwater would’ve been cooler by now, she looked too comfortable to be asked to move. 

By the time Momo finally got out of the bathtub and into the towel you were holding out for her, the water had gone completely cold.

“Ugh, my skin is all wrinkly now”, she complained.

“Hmm I don’t know, it’s giving me a good idea of what you’d look like in another thirty years.”

“And?” she twirled around. “What do you think?”

You gave her a once over. “I think… I think I’ll stay with you for more than thirty years if that’s what you’re going to look like.”

After a quick change into your respective pajamas for the night (with you having to change again due to a mock water fight you two had), you ushered Momo into bed.

“Are you not sleeping now?” she asked, when you didn’t get into bed with her.

“Just about to, don’t worry,” you replied, straightening her edge of the comforter, effectively tucking her in.” Mariko asked for an order of cupcakes for her kindergarten class next Tuesday, so I’m just going to make a note of that before I forget.” 

She pouted, drawing out an arm from under the covers and pulling you down by your sleeve. Leaning down, you had no choice but to look right into her puppy-dog eyes, nearly shutting from exhaustion were it not for Momo resisting her body, fighting to stay open. “I wanted to cuddle but I’m already,” she broke off into a yawn, “falling asleep.”

You kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, I’ll be back before you know it,” you whispered.

“G’night,” she mumbled with drooping eyes.

Your demeanor changed the minute you left the bedroom, gently closing the door behind you. Throughout the evening, you’d noticed how burnt out Momo seemed, and this late-night conversation further proved that she desperately needed a rest. You grabbed your laptop and keyed in a call to your organization, late hours be damned.

“Hippolyta to HQ. Calling in regards to Agent 64.” You waited for the call to go through.

After a few minutes of having to listen to the ridiculous call tone they had put in (seriously why on earth would someone want to listen to that Piña Colada song while they waited to make a serious report), you were about to pull out your earpiece and give up when a bored robotic voice answered, “Hippolyta, your call has now been cued. State your report and wait for an agent.”

You cleared your throat before saying. “As her handler, I believe Agent 64 is in need of a short leave, allowing her time to recuperate and be mentally on track for any and all future missions.” Hopefully, that should be enough to get an agent connected to you.

After another couple minutes of listening to the godforsaken song, a voice sounded on the other end. “This is Baklava to Hippolyta. Your report has been recorded. Do you have other details you wish to share?”

“It’s exactly as I said before. I noticed a change in Agent 64’s behaviour and mental state through her last couple missions, and I believe it would do her good to take a temporary break.”

“Agent 64, huh? Let me see, I’ll pull up her file here.”

“Oho,” you heard after some shuffling on the other end of the call, “so this is the infamous Agent 64 and Hippolyta. I see. Well, I’m afraid I have to deny your inquiry and cannot grant her the break.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, surprised that a decision had been made so quickly. “Why?”

“Clearly, her being your wife makes it a point of personal interest. We can’t really have that, so she’ll continue on her missions as usual.”

“Excuse me, but in all these years, I have never let personal feelings get in between our working relationship.” You could feel your anger rising and had to be careful not to raise your voice too much, lest Momo wake up. “In fact, as her handler, I have made sure to push her exactly as much as she needed to get her missions done. She has a ninety-eight percent success rate, only possible because we don’t let personal feelings get in our way.” 

“Nah, but in this case, Agent 64 has not filed for a break herself. You doing this on her behalf shows vested interest.” 

You didn’t know if it was because of the late hour, but this conversation with Baklava was going nowhere and you were starting to get frustrated. You sighed.

“What’s the matter, Hippo, going soft for your wife? Is that it?” the voice sneered.

You saw red. No one except Momo was allowed to call you that. 

“Grant Agent 64 the break or else you’ll lose not only your best assassin but also one of your best handlers,” you gritted your teeth.

The line suddenly cut.

Fuck.

You didn’t really want to have to go through the whole process of reporting your inquiry again, but for Momo you would do it another hundred times.

Just then, a new voice was heard through your earpiece.

“Hippolyta, this is Shooting Guard. Your report has been transferred over to me.”

Shooting Guard… the name was familiar to you.

“Hippolyta speaking. Not sure how much of my report was transferred over but it’s in regards to Agent 64.”

“Oh yes, I know about your wife, Hippolyta. What’s the matter?”

It suddenly hit you. Of course Shooting Guard was a familiar name. He had been an agent a year above you at the training centre, a hardworking and calculative senior, but friendly once you got to know him.

“Well, I know the organisation has been working through some things right now—” you heard a scoff on the other end, “but 64 has been on individual missions for three weeks straight. She would never say this outright but I can tell the constant travel is getting to her. As… as her handler of course, not her partner,” you hurried to add, lest you were misunderstood once again.

To your surprise Shooting Guard said, “I believe that being her spouse makes you all the more attuned to how she’s doing Hippolyta. And with your spotless record so far, having a spouse as a handler doesn’t seem to be working negatively at all.”

“Does that mean you can get her leave approved?” you asked, hopeful.

“Well, that’s the difficult part. In your words, the organisation is working through things right now,” he chuckled without mirth.  

“Please, just get her a psych eval or something. Anything that grants her a break,” you were coming across as pleading when you should have been firm, but Momo’s wellbeing was at stake here.

“Let me see what I can do.” You heard him hum as he clicked on various files, rearranging calendars and rescheduling appointments, no doubt, before he finally broke the silence.

“I can give her two weeks. That fine?”

“More than fine. Truly, thank you, Shooting Guard,” the stress visibly left your shoulders.

“Don’t mention it. The agents around here need a fucking break anyways.”

You logged off the call once you got the final approval that your report had been accepted. You couldn’t wait to see Momo’s joyous face when she would break the news to you tomorrow. But for now, sleep was calling.

As you made your way back upstairs, a smile spread across your face at the thought of spending the next two weeks with your wife. When you entered your bedroom, Momo was fast asleep, sprawled across the large bed, somehow taking up enough space for two people. You shook your head fondly as you turned off the lights, slipping in beside her. As if sensing your presence, she pressed herself closer to you, wanting to be together even in sleep. You looped an arm around her torso and held her tight. 

Yes, you certainly were excited to spend two weeks with her. But most of all, you were glad your bed would be warm with her presence again.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: so that poll... y'all be impatient as fuck (and i be lazy as fuck bc i think i was the only one who voted for this being split JLDFKSHFK) anyways happy misamo day and have a good day/night !!

You stand by the pier, watching dark waters move into the sand, pulling as it smoothens the land, before then receding back into its original form. 

Perhaps, you shouldn’t have come. 

Nayeon watches you with a frown. Her lustrous dark hair, stray strands whipping past her face with the salty wind even when she’s tucked it behind both ears. She usually hates it when it isn’t in place as she prefers, though for some reason, she does not bother to tie her hair back. 

“You’re certain?” She asks, her voice small, barely audible in the night. 

You look away from the waves that flatten the sand and up into her determined gaze. Her eyes were a well of emotions; frustration, hope…desperation. When she looks at you like that, you wonder how you ever find it in yourself to say no to her. But then, you also loathe it, how she weaponizes your weakness for her. Moments like this make you wonder why you even let her convince you, talk to you. 

Though, you suppose that's what the sea is like. An unpredictable force, a nasty current that pulls and drags you under if you are not careful. That was Nayeon. 

“Please,” she steps towards you at the same time you take a step back. A dance the pair of you have perfected. “Please.”

Nayeon’s frown deepens. When her pleading goes unanswered, her feelings of desperation give way to the simmering frustration just beneath the surface. Anyone can tell, Nayeon wears her expressions with no masks. You can tell just from the way she pursed her lips, her jaw locking in place as her eyes darken, growing stormy, just by a fraction. 

Besides, look at the water; almost glowing under the light of the full moon, the tides increasing in speed just enough the sea foam begins to froth as it crashes into stray rocks, eroding them into sand before your very eyes. 

Nayeon asks again with her hand extending out to fill the chasm between you. 

“Please come with me,” she pleads like no child of Poseidon should. “Please.” 

When you only stare at her hand, Nayeon tries one last time. 

“I can’t do this without you.” 

The sounds of waves crashing against the shore, against the pier, fills your mind. 

The smell of salt stings your senses, making you teary-eyed…yes, the salt. 

The biting cold of the droplets that fall at your bare feet reminds you where you stand…in front of whom you stand. 

“I can’t do this with you.” 

You don’t give her a chance to speak. To yell. To convince. 

To drag you in like the current she is. 

With a snap of your fingers, the mist hides Nayeon completely from your vision. And in turn, you from her. Powerful enough, it could be an illusion…powerful enough, a child of Poseidon wouldn’t be able to take a step forward to find you. 

You don’t take pride in tricking her—protecting her—whatever you think it is you’re doing. But it is something you must do. 

When the ocean comes to a near still, the waves half the force they’d just been…you knew this would be the last you’d see of Nayeon.  

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i might like writing guys, that's crazyyyyyy anygays hope you have a good day/night :]