Park Sungho prides himself in being a loyal soldier.

He believes that this quality earned him the shiny Pan Pacific Defence Corp badge he wears proudly and all the solo missions his seniors entrust him with. He’s got an in-ear keeping him in contact with the headquarters and a reinforcement team ready to intervene if things go wrong, but otherwise his unit trusts him to handle it alone. Namely, tracking down a Kaiju organ dealer who has been on their radar for a while now but PPDC hasn’t managed to catch them or even expose their identity. This cat and mouse chase has been going on for months and Sungho is about to change that tonight.

Earlier this week PPDC got an anonymous tip. It can be real or it can be a trap, but the superiors cannot let any lead go to waste. The government is already threatening to cut back their budget if they can’t clamp down on the sales of illegal goods like Kaiju Remedies. The black markets have been booming lately with these products promising cures for a wide range of illnesses or even claiming to give supernatural strength or healing abilities. Without proper research behind these claims however the products are deemed especially dangerous because naive people are desperate in these trying times. Sure, they could try to stop the organ harvesters in the first place but PPDC is already overwhelmed by having to do damage control in the affected areas after every Kaiju attack. Like this, the criminals often get to the aliens first to take the usable body parts before the decay process starts, hence the increase of questionable products circulating in the underground circles.

The Jagalchi market is an unassuming place filled with fresh sea products and generations-run oily street food stalls during the day, but behind the metal railings and plastic chairs, something much darker awakens in its hidden alcoves after the moon comes up and the daytime market quiets down. The sea still roars in the background, the tide coming in high, and the sounds coming from the ships in the harbour are frail in the wind of the night.

Sungho is nothing but a lithe black silhouette becoming one with his shadow as he slips into the dodgy back alleys behind the market. The air around him is thick with the smell of fish and oil as he passes by old workshops and storage containers. He squints, trying to make the most out in the dark passageways under the moonlight and keeping his steps light despite the heavy combat boots he wears. He has memorized the exact route to the meeting point they had been given. He has counted every turn and every step beforehand to make sure there would be no mistakes, no unexpected variables.

He doesn’t even flinch when he has to step over a drunkard lying on the cold, hard ground as he ventures deeper into the maze of gritty, scum-covered alleys. He’s far enough from the main streets now, so his surroundings are eerily quiet under the constant hum of the port city. He’s only a few steps away from the received coordinates, when he notices a black hooded figure emerge from a thin alley. He presses himself flat against the cold metals of a barred door and waits until the footsteps quiet down before following them. He watches from a decent distance away as the dealer exchanges two medicine bottles for a yellow envelope with a baseball cap guy, then hides in a shadowed spot of a side passage when the latter passes by him.

“The buyer is leaving towards the market. He’s around 170cm and wears a baseball cap. He’s having the goods,” Sungho quietly informs the backup team waiting nearby while he himself goes after the dealer. He can see their dark figure disappear between two worn down buildings and follows closely. He reaches under his jacket to grab his service pistol from its holster just in case and quickens his steps. He can still hear the faint echo of footsteps over puddles before he turns at the next corner and then immediately halts.

There’s nothing there.

It’s a dead end and the dealer is nowhere to be seen.

“Everything okay, Agent Park?” Lieutenant Choi asks in his in-ear, sensing his hesitation. They have been tracking his movements from the HQ and now his dot on their map must be frozen in a spot.

Sungho opens his mouth to answer while keeping his eyes on his surroundings – the shut garage door, the broken glass on the floor and another barred door barely hanging on one hinge – when suddenly a high-pitched loud shriek comes from the device in his ear. He rips it out, wincing at the throbbing pain in his right ear.

He’s still alert enough to notice a swift movement in the corner of his eye and doesn’t hesitate to point his gun at he black hooded figure standing a mere three steps from him. They don’t seem bothered by the weapon in their face. Their movements are deliberate and casual as they reach for the hood over their head and slide it down.

Despite the years of training behind Sungho’s back, his fingers tremble on the gun when he comes face-to-face with the dealer. It’s like seeing a ghost from the past. It’s like bleeding out on the dirty asphalt all over again.

“Hi Sungho.”

Your smile is one part sweet, one part mean. The ache in his chest expands like he missed it. He isn’t sure he wants to unpack that now.

How long has it been? Two years? Almost three?

Your hair is shorter now, but the glint in your eyes is the same. You take a step closer, bringing the flowery undertone of your light perfume with you and Sungho feels sick to the stomach. The echo of his heartbeat is loud in his ears when you close the distance between your body and his extended arm. You press close, until the pistol’s barrel digs into your chest right above your heart, but you act like it’s nothing. Like he couldn’t just pull the trigger and end it all.

He wouldn’t. And you know he wouldn’t. So you’re being reckless and daring on purpose now that PPDC isn’t listening into your conversation.

“You dyed it,” you say coyly, your gaze shamelessly raking over his body, lips ticked up in one sort of amusement and reach out to touch his blond locks. You only smile wider when he slaps your hand away with a tightened jaw and veins throbbing. “Still uptight, I see.”

You pat his chest over the tight-fitted black shirt in a condescending way and Sungho feels himself burn inside. He isn’t sure it’s from embarrassment or anger. He needs to put some distance between you, so he takes a deliberate step back only to hit a rain-soaked wall. You raise an eyebrow at him, almost in challenge, as you watch him lower his handgun.

“So is this what you have been doing all these years?” Sungho clears his throat and keeps his voice leveled. He can’t keep disappointment out of his tone though. Even if you used to joke with his moral superiority, he would have never imagined you to swoop so low as to join the black market trades.

Yet, you simply shrug at the clear accusation.

“We have never agreed on the methods to survive. We’re on two different sides of this war.”

“There are only two sides: humans and Kaijus,” Sungho points out bitterly. If you are not with them, you are with the Kaijus, anticipating the doom of human existence.

“And that’s where you are wrong,” you correct him like he was a school kid making a silly mistake in his workbook. You use a patronizing tone, one that you know will trigger him, and the fact that you tick him off so easily after so long leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. “There’s the Kaiju, then the naive people like you and the survivors like me.”

He can barely believe his ears. You disappear for years and then you refuse to feel shame over being so damn selfish? 

“So you’re making profit out of the war?” he frowns, not even trying to keep the judgement out of his voice.

“Humanity won’t last long. If you weren’t so blind, you would see it too,” you say it like it’s a fact, like you don’t even try to make it hurt. “I’m sure you noticed that the attacks are more and more frequent. Not to mention the Kaijus are getting more evolved rapidly. Jaegers can’t keep up for long. Look at what happened in Shanghai or Vancouver.”

Dread washes over Sungho at the memories of the recent big losses of the program. Two lost Jaegers, three dead pilots, entire districts of cities evacuated, water supplies poisoned by deadly toxin and it’s just the beginning. Still, people can’t think like this, like this is the beginning of the end. Humanity has never joined forces quite like this before, governments all over the world are finally working together to stop this invasion. There must be hope.

“So what? You gave up joining the fight and decided to make money from it until you can?” He spits, barely recognizing the girl he knew in you. Sure, you had been headstrong back then too, you had learned to take care of yourself long before you met him but when did you become so… selfish?

His harsh tone makes you flash him a glare.

“Unlike you, I never had the luxury to choose!” You snap back at him.

“You could have chosen me!”

Sungho’s eyes flicker away as soon as the words escape him. He didn’t mean to say it. He didn’t mean to tear up old wounds but your claim felt like a slap. He was hurting and he wanted you to take the blame for what he had been holding on.

“No, Sungho. I could not,” you whisper, full of sorrow and regret.

The smell of salt is stronger in the air when the rain starts. Sungho watches the first droplet land on your cheek and leave a glossy tear-like track on your face. When you pull the hood over your head again and turn to leave, he doesn’t try to stop you. He can’t. Not even after all these years.

“Was it you? Who sent the tip?” He calls after you before you could turn the corner. He needs to know. To know if meeting you like this was just a coincidence or something you wanted. He tells himself he only cares because he’s not fond of this new you and your new games but that’s a lie and it tastes a lot like bile when he swallows it down. 

“And why would I have done that?” You look back at him with furrowed brows, your confusion seemingly genuine. You take a step farther before turning back again. Almost like you don’t want to leave… Or maybe Sungho is just a fool all over again for hoping. “We both know you won’t snitch on me but if you are interested in buying some Kaiju products, you can give me a call. Strictly business.”

And then he just lets you walk away. Just like three years ago.

Sungho was supposed to become a Ranger.

He had trained alongside the golden boy Han Dongmin at the Academy and excelled in physical skills. He also had the determination and patriotism that it took to become a soldier willing to die in battle. However, he had a bit of a control issue. He just couldn’t let go. He never managed to pass a Drift test. When he got the evaluation after his third year, suggesting to transfer departments, he was devastated. It felt like he had wasted years of his life for nothing. He never felt more lost.

Coincidentally it was also when he met you.

You were just two strangers at the same place. Two people lost at sea. It was almost like you gravitated towards each other. At least he would swear he could feel its pull the first time he saw you. He never believed in fate and such, but ever since that first time when he spotted you alone at the corner pocha eating tteokbokki, he saw you everywhere he went. At the convenience store, on the beach, in his dreams. The first time he talked with you, you almost sliced his face with a butter knife and told him to mind his own business. How should he have known that you had been dealing with loan sharks long enough to know how to get away? And how could he have stayed away after he knew?

“I don’t need your help,” you told him, stubborn and defiant, but still let him clean the bloody scrap across your knees from jumping over a fence twice your height.

“I know,” he nodded and put plasters over your wounds. He hoped one day you would let him bandage your heart too.

It took a long time for you to lower your guards around him but you never let him in fully. You didn’t like to talk about your past but he put the pieces together like a jigsaw. You were alone and could only rely on yourself. You never mentioned your father but always talked fondly about your mother. You told him she would have liked him. Past tense. You blamed the devastating consequences of the Southern coast Kaiju attack on PPDC and the government. It sounded like something personal. It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.

When you first kissed him, it snowed. It was the dead of winter, shivering cold and yet, Sungho had never felt warmer.

That winter he moved out of the Ranger Academy’s dorms to split rent with you. Although housing prices dropped in seaside cities, Busan’s were still higher than average because of the nearby Shatterdome. The cheap place you could afford was barely enough for two people but you made it work. Sungho loved to watch you wake up all grumpy until you had caffeine. He loved when all the tension seemed to leave your body when he hugged you to sleep. He loved sneaking more groceries into the fridge without you noticing just so he could keep you well-fed.

Money had always been a sensitive topic with you because while he had a safety net of savings and well-off parents, you had neither. The only thing you inherited from your parents was debt. So you worked two jobs to make ends meet: afternoon shifts at a fried chicken place and night shifts at a convenience store. When you first started staying out more at night, he believed the excuses about the extra shifts.

He was barely over twenty and hopelessly in love. Who would blame him for being naive?

Sungho is running on three hours of restless sleep after the failed night mission and the morning briefing when he walks into the Shatterdome’s K-science wing. The pungent chlorine smell hits him the moment he pushes down the door handle to the labs. He immediately spots Kim Donghyun with his Ranger girlfriend in his lap enthusiastically showing her something under a  microscope.

Sungho pointedly clears his throat.

“Donghyun, can I have a word?”

The scientist boy unhooks his chin from the girl’s shoulder and they get up, springing apart like they have been caught doing something much more scandalous. Honestly, Sungho doesn’t care if they act all lovey-dovey in the laboratory as long as it doesn’t cause issues.

“I will leave you two to it,” the Ranger girl says with an awkward smile, briefly squeezing her boyfriend’s hand.

“You can stay,” Sungho tells her because he’s not about to discuss anything confidential.

“No, it’s okay, I should go before Dongmin has my head for being late from practice,” she rolls her eyes with a more genuine smile this time and waves goodbye.

Donghyun practically pouts as he watches her slip out of the room. He’s probably not even aware of the little sigh that leaves his mouth before fixing the collar of his lab coat and turning towards Sungho.

“What can I help you with, hyung?”

“I have a few questions about Kaijus,” the agent admits because your words have been plaguing his mind all night. PPDC didn’t issue anything concerning about the Kaiju evolution but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. Some things are better kept under lock from the public after all. “I know they keep getting bigger and more toxic hence the higher categories but are they actually evolving? Like getting smarter?”

“Yes, it looks like it,” Donghyun nods slowly, looking pensive as he digs out a thick dossier and flips through pages of identified Kaijus. “Look, each Kaiju is somewhat better than the previous one, or at least more aware of the weak points of Jaegers. They are the learning kind of predators. These are not brute force attacks anymore, they know what to target.”

The documents in the open folder show the destroyed Conn-Pod of Vicious Siege and the torn out main engine of Snow Leopard.

“How is that possible?” Sungho frowns. Kaijus are killed and often dismembered even before the decay can completely rot their bodies. How could they provide information to their species on the other end of the breach in the depth of the Pacific Ocean like this?

“Some K-scientists have the theory that they can communicate through distances. With a shared consciousness like Rangers do during the Drift.” 

“That sounds impossible,” Sungho mutters.

Donghyun shrugs.

“They are not anything like we have seen on Earth, hyung, and they are evolving at an exponential rate. That’s probably why there are attacks more often,” he says and your explanation echoes in Sungho’s ears again. He hates that you are right.

“Would it be possible to predict where they will attack next?”

“I don’t think so. They do seem to be attracted to big cities and they never attack the same area twice in a row but the Pacific Ocean is still huge. But…” Donghyun’s voice quiets down, eyes darting around, like he isn’t sure he should be sharing this. “The Hong Kong team is predicting a Mega-Kaiju coming. That’s why PPDC is pushing the new Mark-6 debut.”

Now, that sounds quite alarming.

“Is there anything that would help find new weak points in Kaijus?” Sungho asks because otherwise he feels quite useless in the light of the news. If what they are saying is true and a Kaiju of no precedent size and intelligence appears, the apocalypse might come sooner than he hoped.

“Actually, we have been trying to get our hands on a fresh brain but the organ harvesters usually get to that first,” the scientist shares and Sungho stills. He expected Donghyun to say a bigger budget or more people on the team, not something so… simple. Sungho is on the illegal Kaiju goods team after all. If he should be able to help with anything, it’s this. Especially now that he has possible contact on the inside. If you meant what you said about business, that is.

“Okay, I will see if we can help with that,” he promises and pointedly ignores how Donghyun’s eyes sparkle at the mention of a potential incoming Kaiju brain supply.

Sungho knows he shouldn’t.

Just this morning he sat through the second interrogation of that guy who brought the so-called Headchangers, a hallucinogenic substance made of the Kaiju’s cerebral tissue. The guy readily told the agents in charge that his dealer was a young woman but she wore a mask, so he couldn’t see her face properly. He also shared how he got in contact with you but the IT team failed to trace back the dark web site to any valid IP address or physical location.

Sungho shouldn’t have felt relieved hearing that.

If he was as morally upright as he would like to think so, he would have told his superiors that he knows exactly who the dealer is. But instead he lied. He told them that you got away after messing with the radio frequency of his in-ear. He told them that he didn’t see your face. He went against everything he swore not to do after being officially appointed as a field agent.

And here he is, about to break another self-made rule.

He doesn’t want to think about what it says about him that he kept your number to begin with. He also doesn’t want to wonder what it means that you know it’s him when he eventually caves in and calls.

“Ready to make a deal with the devil, Sungho?” You tease, your voice amused and playful. There is no ounce of surprise between your vowels, almost like you expected his call.

Sungho hates to be predictable but he hates it even more that you joke with referring to yourself as the devil. He might not think it’s right what you’re doing but he knows you’re far from evil. You’re just somebody who has had to learn to survive on your own by any means possible. 

“How much do you need to get a Kaiju brain?” He cuts to the chase, not wasting time on small talk. It’s also easier like this to keep this as strictly as the business transaction it should be and not let the past plague him.

“That’s a bit ambitious of you. It’s ridiculously rare,” you scoff but don’t tell him that it’s impossible to get one. “I’m lucky if I can get you a part of a brain for 8 million won, if not more.”

Sungho grimaces because while he expected it to be expensive, he also knows that PPDC would never pay that much to an unofficial supplier, much less somebody from the black market. Especially not after the budget cuts. He guesses it doesn’t hurt to try and negotiate a bit.

“No discount for old times’ sake?”

“Don’t act cute now,” you click your tongue, unimpressed.

Sungho’s a bit afraid that you’ve taken his words in the wrong way, as if he was trying to guilt-trip you when it wasn’t his intention, but you don’t call him out on it nor do you hang up.

“Is it an official procurement or are you going behind PPDC’s back?” You ask, sounding curious.

“Does it matter?” Sungho pushes back on the question because admitting out loud that he’s acting in a grey zone feels like admitting guilt, but you know him all too well.

“So it’s the latter,” you hum, sounding a bit surprised because it’s very unlike him, he knows it too. But it might be worth it because you eventually sigh and give in. Maybe your past is not something you completely regret. “Alright, 6 million and you buy me dinner. I will text you when I have the swag.”

Sungho’s still holding the phone after the beeping signals the end of the call. He’s a tad bit dumbfounded and a lot confused. Merely a week ago you told him he can only call you for ‘strictly business’ and now you are suggesting dinner like you were just old friends? What are you playing at?

+82-010-xxxx-xxxx [location shared] be there at midnight i don’t have to tell you to come alone, right? sungho aren’t you afraid there will be an ambush? +82-010-xxxx-xxxx if you wanted that, they would have caught me already you’re not as heartless as you think, sungho

It’s not that Sungho thinks he’s heartless – out of the two of you, it has always been you – but he would like to be, just this once. But whatever bitterness and hurt he feels, he still can’t make himself to throw you to the wolves. He knows very well how it would go if he gave you up to his superiors. You have the kind of background that people take a glance at and decide your character in a heartbeat: high school dropout, family debt, underage petty theft and now distributing illegal goods. Despite all that, he believes that you never meant to use him as a stepping stone. Despite leaving him, he believes you loved him. That you were happy with him once.

Sungho shakes his head, closing the lid on the Pandora box of his memories with you. Thinking about the past is futile and he has a business deal to handle.

The coordinates you sent him are not far off from the place you have met almost two weeks prior. When he disappears between the familiar passageways, momentarily he wonders if he should expect an ambush. He cannot be sure after all whether you’re working alone or you have somebody looking out for you. Despite the thorny feeling the thought awakens in him, he would prefer if you were protected rather than reckless but he also knows you. He knows how hard it is for you to trust others and how much you hate to depend on anybody else other than yourself. He knows because it was one of the reasons why you broke up with him.

The alleys are darker this time because the moon is barely a crescent, its light pale and sporadic. It’s been a few days since it last rained, so without the rich scent of petrichor in the air, the smell of rotting is clearer. It’s the kind of place girls shouldn’t go alone late at night. The kind of place he would like to keep you away. But wasn’t it part of the problem too? That you never wanted him to keep you safe?

When he gets to the meeting point, there’s nobody there, but you show up right on time. You wear all black again and when you unhook the mask from your ears, you flash him a smile in greeting. Last time he was too busy convincing himself that you’re real and not just a ghost from his past or a hallucination from the lack of sleep to pay attention to the details. Now, even in the dim lighting he can tell that there’s a spark in your eyes that he missed. Back then it used to be very rare with how much life has weighed you down, so he always treasured the moments when you looked this alive. Who would have thought it’s possible as a wanted criminal?

When you wordlessly hold your hand out with your palm up, it’s most likely not as an invitation to hold hands but his heart skips a beat nevertheless. He doesn’t give you the money just yet.

“I want to see it first,” he insists just to make sure, but it makes you scoff.

“Aww, you don’t trust me?” You coo, mocking, and it’s a kick in the stomach. He would like to trust you, but he feels like he doesn’t even know you anymore.

You don’t seem to really mind though. You unzip the backpack you brought with you and take out a transparent glass jar with an airtight lid, very similar to the one Sungho’s mom uses to store kimchi in the fridge back in Wonju. This jar however doesn’t have spicy cabbage in it, instead it has a faintly pulsing, blue-veined, salmon-colored piece of Kaiju brain, the size of his fist, floating in greenish water. Sungho has to look away before nausea could set in.

He hands you a thick bundle of 50 thousand won bills once the jar is back in the safety and cover of the backpack.

“How did you get it?” He can’t help but ask even though he doesn’t expect an honest answer. A part of him just wants to stall time.

“I have my ways,” you smile, secretive and dangerous, and Sungho is enthralled without meaning to be. He has always been so weak when it comes to you.

“So you bought it from somebody who stole it,” he mutters under his nose. He knows how the drills go after a Kaiju attack. PPDC sends soldiers and agents to help keep the public safe. They also send the disaster relief team to handle the release of noxious Kaiju Blue and reverse the damage caused by the aliens’ acidic blood in the waters and wherever else the monsters reached. By the time the cleanup unit makes sure there is no lasting toxic effect on the locals, the organ harvesters have usually already gone through the Kaiju’s breaking down body and PPDC can barely do anything against them because they have bigger problems at hand during those times.

“Stole it?” You echo his words in disbelief. “Kaijus are an alien species. Who says their remains belong to the governments? I say finders keepers, it’s a free market.”

That’s not what the law says but Sungho doesn’t argue, he has more disturbing topics to tend to.

“You… you aren’t actually the one digging inside dead Kaijus, right?” He asks because just thinking about you, even in protective gear, climbing inside a barely killed, still warm monster to cut it to pieces when one wrong move is enough to end up dead doesn’t sit well with him.

“No, Sungho, I have people for that. I’m a businesswoman now,” you deadpan but catch onto the concern in his voice quickly. “Why? Are you worried about me?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, pushing his buttons. You’re playing with him like a lazy predator nudging its prey and Sungho tries so hard to keep his composure, to not let you have the satisfaction of seeing him snap. But it’s all tumbling down when you touch him: teasing, on the chin, tilting his head up. His hand shoots out to grab your wrist before he can stop himself and a moment later he has you pinned against the dirty, molding wall. Your eyes glint like a cat that just got the cream, like you’re exactly where you want to be.

You look up at him, defiant, but still smiling. You didn’t used to be this playful before. It’s almost like you had some invisible weight lifted off your chest and it’s not a bad thing, but Sungho doesn’t know what to do with the situation. He feels your rapid pulse under his thumb and he sees the way you look at him. Under all that play pretend, the big words and confidence, there’s something vulnerable shimmering underneath, something threatening to break. He knows because he knows you, the version of you that has always been the deflecting, avoidant type.

“Did you miss me, Sungho?” You ask in a whisper and tip your chin up, you breath fanning against his chin.

He can tell it’s meant to be playful and teasing but it comes out fragile, like a wish made upon a falling star. He wants to call you cruel. He wants to tell you that you don’t get to leave him and then ask him that years later. But instead, he lets go and takes a step back, putting the much needed distance between you.

Your expression immediately sours.

“Buzzkill,” you say with a pout, your lower lip jutting out.

The moment you disappear down one of the shady side passages, Sungho’s already missing you.

Sungho isn’t stupid. He’s well aware that he can’t just walk into the Shatterdome with a Kaiju brain without questions asked, so he goes to the Marshal first. He explains that instead of putting the black market dealer they have been looking for behind the bars, they should recruit her as PPDC’s official supplier when it comes to Kaiju organs needed for research and development. The Kaiju brain could be a sign of their goodwill and a proof of their competence. The Marshal doesn’t like that he has been acting on his own but he knows that Sungho is a good agent and he also knows when a deal is beneficial. He adds a few conditions of his own but he has a contract drafted up as soon as the lab confirms that the lump in the nasty water is indeed a real Kaiju organ. Sungho can’t wait to tell you the news.

sungho can we meet? i have an offer strictly business +82-010-xxxx-xxxx same place same time

“What’s this?” You hold up the printed, stamped, stapled papers like it’s a personal offence.

“A contract,” Sungho explains plainly and he doesn’t even try to be sarcastic about it but your eyes flash at him like he was.

“Seems like a trap to me,” you say, defensive, and it hurts more than he expected. He knew you wouldn’t jump on the opportunity because he knows your stance on the war and how you don’t think it can be stopped. But he also knows that you’re smart and it’s a good opportunity for you. You may not trust PPDC but why can’t you trust him?

“Do you really think I would do that to you?” Sungho recoils, his broken heart bleeding once again over the pavement. “We don’t have to be enemies, Y/N.”

You blink slowly, watching his expression closely like you’re trying to read him. You’re looking at him like the concept he’s talking about is a daydream. Something you can’t allow yourself to believe in.

“I don’t get what you’re trying to do,” you admit with your voice turned bitter. He can see your pupils widen, like you’re afraid. Of what? Of him? Or of the reason why he doesn’t push you away? “Are you still trying to save me?” 

“What? No. I–” Sungho protests in disbelief, words betraying him as you turn your back to him.

So this is what it’s about? You think he’s treating you like a charity case? Like you’re a damsel in distress in need of a hero, to be saved from yourself and your demons? But he never thought of himself as a hero. If anything, you were the one who gave him a reason not to give up when he felt lost. You loved him when he felt the least worthy of it.

You’re already a few steps away, half-hidden by the shadows when Sungho breaks.

“Did it ever occur to you that you might have not needed me but I needed you?” He calls after you, his voice raw and desperate as it echoes off the walls. So vulnerable he shakes from the sheer force of trying to keep himself together.

You falter. He sees your steps slow down, the way you hesitate at a corner, the way you curl your fingers into a fist. He briefly closes his eyes and turns the opposite direction just so he wouldn’t have to watch you leave. Not again.

+82-010-xxxx-xxxx [photo attached] i want these two points modified if ok, i will sign it

After five days of radio silence, Sungho started to think you wouldn’t reach out, so the sudden texts surprise him. At the same time, he feels relieved. He runs the requested changes through the Marshal and by the evening he has a new version of contract with him on his way to the seafood market.

He gets to the new location earlier than the usual time and for the first time since these late night rendezvouses, he’s nervous. It’s not just about his job anymore. Or your criminal record. He’s lucky the Marshal didn’t fire him the moment he mentioned his idea. He should have given you up the moment he recognized you. He should have been a loyal soldier instead of going behind the PPDC’s back again and again. But he couldn’t. Because he still cares.

After all these years, he still loves you.

And now, it’s out in the open. You know. You must know.

Sungho’s steps halt in the middle of the rain-soaked asphalt. He hesitates. Maybe he should cut his losses now. He isn’t sure he could take losing you all over again.

“Let go, asshole! No money means no stuff, you know it.”

“You’re just a girl. Think you can stop me?”

Sungho’s head snaps up at the voices. Yours, angry and agitated, and a man’s, arrogant and mocking. He moves without thinking: ducking into one of the side passageways and running until he spots you with a taser in hand, targeting a guy with a small, paper-wrapped package in his grip. He’s at least a head taller than you but it doesn’t seem to scare you.

“Give it back until I’m asking nicely.”

“You can ask me much nicer, dollface,” the dude grins and when he takes a threatening step towards you, something snaps in Sungho. He knows you literally have a taser, that you could most likely handle it, but there’s some kind of satisfaction in the way his fist connects with the nose of this self-assured guy and he can smell blood in the air.

The buyer swears under his nose and throws a punch at him. Sungho manages to block the hit and pushes the guy up against the wall. He wishes he had his service gun with him just so he could scare him a little but there’s something about his knuckles hurting that make it more satisfactory. He has never liked violence but seeing someone attacking you has awakened something raw in him.

“She asked you to give it back to her,” he says hoarsely, adding pressure to his arm digging into the guy’s chest, keeping him securely up against the wall.

“Fuck both of you,” the dude mutters and lift his hand with the hand-wrapped package up… only to smash it right against Sungho’s face. White powder explodes in his periphery and it makes him cough so hard, his grip weakens. The guy slips away while he’s still partially blinded by the white matter in the air. But when he moves to catch this jerk, you pull him back with a hand around his wrist.

It’s the first time you touched him like this since you met again. Not teasing, not playful, not out of necessity. It’s a simple touch, a touch to ground, the kind that anchors him. Sungho feels some of his tenseness melt in his veins as he turns to you. Your hair is in your face, messed up from the confrontation, and there’s still fire burning in your eyes as you stare after your could-be-client.

“Are you alright?” He finds himself asking, despite knowing your tendency to deflect even when you’re shaken up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Not the first asshole I had to deal with,” you shrug casually like it’s really something you’re used to.

Sungho hates it. He wants to argue that you shouldn’t deal with it, but no words leave him when you finally turn to look at him properly. He sees from up close as your eyes soften and you reach out to wipe some white powder off his cheek. Your touch is gentle, tender, and he holds his breath because he fears the moment would break lest he so much as inhales a bit loudly. He never wants you to let go.

But reality comes crashing in anyways.

“Oh, shit,” you whisper, almost horrified, as your eyes widen and you drop your hand.

“What?”

“It’s Kaiju Bone Powder. What he wanted to buy,” you tell him like it’s supposed to explain why you’re trying so adamantly to get rid of its remains by wiping your palm into your clothes.

Sungho furrows his eyebrows in confusion. He never cared to learn what these so-called Kaiju Remedies are said to cure or enhance. It never seemed to matter as long as they stopped the illegal sales. Is it expensive stuff? Did he just get you in trouble for practically wasting an entire box in the air?

“I will cover it for you if that’s wha–”

“No, that’s not why. Let’s go,” you cut him off and grab his hand to pull him after you.

Sungho is stunned. You’re not the type who allows her distress to show and now you’re clearly worried, he just doesn’t understand why. But you’re holding his hand instead of leaving him behind and he has wanted it for so long, it almost removes all the sane thoughts from his head. Almost.

“Talk to me, Y/N. Tell me what’s wrong,” he tugs on your hand. You pay him no mind, not until you drag him into a van with darkened windows and a driver who doesn’t ask questions, just steps on the gas when you tell him to.

When you let go of his hand, Sungho burns. His hand itches to reach for yours again. He needs to curl his fingers to hold himself back. When your shoulder brushes his at a turn, he wants to mold himself against you. When he so much as catches your eyes, he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

“Y/N…”

He sees you gulp and let out a shaky exhale. He wants to swallow it down. Every sound and every breath that leaves the seam of your lips.

“Don’t,” you whisper. It’s a warning.

So Sungho burns.

The rest of the ride to your place is a blur. It’s all the restraint and control he has mastered since becoming the nation’s soldier. By the time you open the door to an apartment with sea view in one of the nicer parts of the city, Sungho has a good guess what the drug does.

“It’s an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?” He asks to confirm once it’s just you and him between four walls. He doesn’t move from the door. He barely dares to look at you.

“Yeah. A strong one,” you let out a sigh and return with a glass of water and a pill. You seem to trust him more than he trusts himself because the lack of distance has him reeling. He wants to pull you close. He wants to feel your body’s warmth. He wants so much. “You just need to sleep it off.”

He takes the pill from you, pops it into his mouth and finishes the glass, yet his thirst is not clenched. Just a brush of your hand is enough to lower his inhibitions and you don’t move. It’s driving him crazy.

You should shut yourself into a room. You shouldn’t stay so close. Because Sungho is good at control… until it comes to you.

“Y/N,” he mutters and this time it’s him warning you. Because he won’t touch you, not unless you touch him first.

Your eyes flash, dark and pupils blown. It’s like facing his desire in a mirror.

“I missed you,” you murmur and it breaks down every defence Sungho has built up over the years. He says your name like a plea and when you kiss him, it’s burning like wildfires.

The day when you broke up with him was a perfect autumn day: sunny with a gentle breeze, no dark clouds. You asked him to meet you on the beach which was nothing unusual. With the Shatterdome being right by the shore and the apartment you shared also within the Kaiju Danger Zone, it was a common meeting point of yours. You were waiting for him sitting on a bench, watching the sunset on the horizon.

He should have known something was wrong when you refused to look at him. When you spoke up, your voice was cold and tired like November rain.

“Sungho... I think we should stop.”

“Stop what?” He blinked, not catching on yet.

You cast your eyes down and went quiet. He reached out to hold your hand while you gathered your thoughts but you pulled it back into your lap before he could have touched you. The rejection stung and Sungho was so, so confused. What did he do?

“Pretending that it works. Us,” you clarified but he didn’t understand anything. Sure, you had your differences and both of you had your secrets but he thought you were good together.

“Did something happen? Whatever it is, let me help–”

“You can’t save me, Sungho,” you told him bitterly, one part angry, another part desperate. It took him years to understand what you really meant was: I need to save myself.

“Let’s end it here, hm?”

You didn’t even wait for his answer, just stood up and walked down the beach. Sungho fumbled as he got up too, barely processing what happened. Naively, he thought that it would be alright, that he would give you space and you would talk later. You still lived together after all, it couldn’t have been a goodbye. 

But when he got back to the apartment, it was already empty. You must have packed up while he was at work. Even the silly photobooth pictures you took together were gone from the fridge. Along with every single trace of you in his life. Just like that, you left.

When Sungho wakes up, he’s instantly disoriented. The smell, the light… nothing is like he’s used to. Opening his eyes, it takes him exactly two seconds to realize that he’s not in his PPDC-assigned room and two more to remember why. It comes to him in flashes: the grounded Kaiju bone extract in the air, your lips on his, hot and insistent, and your hands under his jacket, slipping it off. Then the sleeping pill’s effect kicked in suddenly and he remembers you helping him to bed, tucking him in. With burning cheeks, he remembers catching onto your wrist and refusing to let go. He remembers falling asleep next to you.

The pillowcase still smells like your flowery perfume but the bed beside him is empty and cold now. It’s not like he expected anything else but having his hopes crushed like this still hurts. He groans as he throws the blanket off and massages his throbbing temple. Yesterday he didn’t pay much attention but as he looks around in the bedroom, it’s obvious that you can afford a much more comfortable lifestyle now than three years ago. Selling illegal goods must pay well. It makes him wonder if financial freedom makes you happy at all. If you miss that shitty little apartment just because you had him then.

Sungho doesn’t find any overly personal decorations in the tasteful design of the room but he still feels like a creep for prying. He gets out of bed like others get ready for the walk of shame even though he still wears his clothes from yesterday which means nothing much could have happened beyond what he remembers. It’s for the best but there’s embarrassment prickling down his spine anyways because of how clingy he was.

Gingerly, he steps out of the confines of the room and immediately spot you on one of the kitchen bar stools. You have always wanted to have one of those.

“Hey, how’s your head? First time users usually get a headache,” you look up when he approaches and Sungho notices two things: first, you have changed from the all black badass clothes you wore yesterday to something more cozy and second, you’re pretending. With how obviously you avoid his eyes, you can’t be as unaffected as you would like to show.

“I’m okay,” he mumbles, ignoring the dull ache in his temples and taking a few more steps closer. That’s when he sees the contract on the kitchen island in front of you.

“I did some digging in your backpack, sorry,” you say when you notice his gaze dropping to the papers and slide the papers towards him. “All signed.”

It’s a bait, a distraction, but Sungho is not falling for this. He doesn’t take the supplier contract, just keeps looking at you and for once you’re the flustered one when your eyes meet.

“Do you want coffee?” You get up and turn to the coffee machine. “I can make you some while you shower. I know how much you hate going to sleep without washing up but…” You trail off, clearly not wanting to explain why the circumstances were special last night. But this time Sungho doesn’t want to beat around the bush. He doesn’t want to assume things and just let go. You told him you missed him. He needs to know if you meant it.

“Y/N… about yesterday–”

“It was just the powder’s doing, it’s fine. Let’s forget it,” you cut him off, shoulders tense, gripping at the kitchen counter’s edge still with your back to him.

“No. It wasn’t just that for me,” he argues because he refuses to leave without actually addressing the matter. He won’t make the same mistake as three years ago.

At least his sudden stubbornness is enough to get you to look at him.

“Sungho…” Your eyes beg him not to make it harder, to not make you say it, but he has spent too much time wondering only to back down now.

“Why did you leave, Y/N?” He finally asks the question that has been keeping him awake for years. He went over scenarios, what ifs, but he just couldn’t get it. Not really. “I thought you just needed some space and then we would be okay but… What happened to us?”

After you left, it took him a long time to pick up the pieces. Moving back to the Shatterdome helped. Throwing himself into work helped. Getting his ass beaten on the mat on the regular by either Dongmin or his co-pilot helped.

But nothing could help him forget you.

You don’t break eye contact for a long, long time. Then you give up with a sigh and start talking:

“I used to be so insecure,” you admit and knowing your pride, it must take a lot of you to say it, so Sungho doesn’t take it for granted. He listens closely. “You were there with me but sometimes I felt so alone. I thought that I’m dragging you down with me. In my eyes, you had everything: supportive parents and a secure job. I never understood what you saw in me and I hated feeling inferior even though it was never you who made me feel like that. I just… I was so afraid of losing my independence if I accepted your help.”

You take a shaky breath and he notes that you talk in past tense. He hopes it means something. He hopes that the fact that you would be willing to work with PPDC means that you don’t really think he’s ‘trying to save you’ this time.

“I stumbled upon organ harvesters dealing by accident in the back alley near the convenience store where I worked and I saw the opportunity to make my life easier, to not have to work multiple jobs just to get by but… It was around that time when you mentioned wanting to introduce me to your parents and I just felt so unworthy of your love. You were planning our future while I was actively jeopardizing your career behind your back,” you say with a bitter grimace. “Back then I didn’t want you to know because I didn’t want to put you into a situation where you had to choose.”

To choose between you and PPDC, between loving you and staying loyal to his morals. But what if he doesn’t need to choose?

“What about now?” Sungho inquires and you look at him with wide eyes.

What changed? He wants to ask because the signed contact sits on the kitchen island and it's proof that you don’t have to be enemies without either of you giving up on what you do. Frankly, he doesn’t care how many sides this war has as long as you and him are on the same one.

“Ask me again,” you tell him and he furrows his brows. He has asked so many questions you dodged before. How could he know what to ask now?

“Ask what?”

“Whether I sent that anonymous tip or not.”

Sungho tilts his head with a little smile in the corner of his mouth. He knew it was too big of a coincidence to just run into you like that.

“Did you?”

“I wanted to see you again,” you confess quietly, mirroring his smile. “I was curious if you grew to hate me over the years. At first, that was all I wanted but now…” Sungho holds his breaths and waits. He looks into your eyes and knows that he would wait forever if needed. “Now, I’m selfish enough to want it all. I’m still not easy to be with but I want to stay. If you want me to.”

Sungho doesn’t want easy. He just wants you and that’s everything he has ever wanted: you staying. Suddenly, the kitchen island is too big of a distance between you. He still takes his time as he goes around it, relishing in the way your gaze follows him, the way you lift your chin to keep eye contact.

“Tell me again,” he uses your method on you and you smile because you recognize it.

“Tell you what?”

“That you missed me,” he helps you out.

It’s a test, the desperate kind but he wants to hear it again, he wants to know it’s not something his drugged up mind conjured out of nothing. You roll your eyes and for a moment he thinks you will tease him about his request, that you won’t say it aloud just for the sake of being difficult but then:

“I missed you,” you tell him, sincere and full of longing, and Sungho is only a man.

He crosses the distance between you in a long stride, not caring about seeming overeager. He slides a hand onto your nape, feeling the heat of your cheek on his other palm.

“Stay,” he whispers right onto your parting lips and you melt in his arms like ice on a warm day.

The Shatterdome infirmary’s door closes with a soft click behind Sungho. He just had his blood taken as a ‘just to be sure’ measure to make sure the Kaiju Bone Powder is out of his system and it didn’t mess anything up. It was quite humiliating to tell the nurse about having been accidentally exposed to it but Dongmin’s (not official but everybody knows it anyway) girlfriend was kind and understanding about it. She told him she had heard much worse stories since she started working in the Shatterdome and while Sungho isn’t sure that’s a good thing, it eased his mind a little.

The canteen is loud and busy when he makes it there for lunch, the military portion on his plate just enough to make up for the blood loss. He’s looking for an empty spot when he notices Jaehyun waving. The J-technician shares a table with Sanghyuk from Drift spec and a cadet called Woonhak.

“Hyung!” The youngest brightens when he sees him approach. “Have you seen Dongmin hyung? I want to practice a bit more before tomorrow’s Kwoon combat trials.”

Sungho did, in fact, see the Ranger.

“He was on his way to the infirmary when I left.”

It earns a collective tired groan from the table.

“Again?” Sanghyuk snorts.

“He still didn’t ask out your sister?” Jaehyun looks up from his phone to turn to Woonhak.

“Eww don’t even bring that up! I have to pretend to be stupid whenever I catch them looking at each other with moon eyes,” the cadet says with a disgusted face. “At this point I will get a girlfriend before they make it official.”

“Don’t jinx them like that,” Sanghyuk chides but puts more meat on Woonhak’s plate when the younger pouts, then pointedly ignores when Woonhak inquires what he was doing during the weekend with ‘that ex-Ranger girl’. Apparently somebody saw them leave the premises together.

Sungho eats a bit of his bulgogi and nudges the strangely quiet technician while the other two play this push-and-pull, going-nowhere questioning.

“How is the Mark-6 testing going?” He asks, curious about the development. PPDC spent a fortune on the new Jaeger, so everybody has high hopes for its debut.

Jaehyun sighs, putting his phone down with its screen to the table. It seems deliberate enough to notice. Especially when the technician’s fingers twitch at its buzzing.

“It’s alright. It would be better though if we could be sure the new electric shock and laser blaster actually works on Kaiju armor and skin.”

Sungho chews and hums.

“I might know someone who could get us some,” he mentions and that has the technician perk up.

“Really? Who?” Jaehyun leans across the table with wide eyes, hungry for a story. Since Sungho has been having a good day, he’s feeling generous enough to give him a piece of what he wants.

“My girlfriend. Or well, technically ex-girlfriend, but I’m working on it,” he says with a smile and pushes a piece of pork into Jaehyun’s opening mouth before he could start the interrogation.

Sungho doesn’t want to get too ahead of himself but he owes you dinner. He might as well make it a date. Preferably without any Kaiju organs at the scene.

END NOTES. fun fact: the entire plot was built around me accidentally finding details about kaiju remedies on the pacific rim wikia, which automatically brought in the black market and sungho's hollywood action outfit perfectly fit into the picture

header pic from bnd insta

title from the all time low song

TAGLIST. @mirouie @restlessmaknae (never done proper taglists before but let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming pacrim series works)

☆ BOYNEXTDOOR masterlist

💌 askbox

“ouch!! what the hell was— sungho?!” your eyes are wide as the expression on your face radiates bewilderment.

you hear the kitty lose himself in apologies as he leans in to make sure there isn’t a bump left on your head. but you’re more interested in what he had accidentally brought to you. a book on.. gardening? you flip through the pages to see different flower types, plant breeds, and care instructions.

you sit up on your day bed in realization. that’s what you need, florals! a source of life in your living space to bring an extra touch of color. “oh, sungho!” you cradle his face in your palms, eyes sparkling with excitement. “you’re a genius!!”

soft tufts of his hair fluff up as his ears twitch in confusion, “i am?” he questions with a tilt of his head.

you can imagine it now, vines and stems adorned with bright wildflowers strung across the ceilings. the planters that surround the exterior of your cottage have remained relatively empty and unchanged since you moved in. you can only assume that’s what sungho’s original plan with the book was until he brought it to your attention.

you’re not sure if you’d call yourself the most trustworthy when it came to gardening. somehow, someway, plants would end up withering under your care. they’d end up growing out of their pots, needing more sunlight, and all of their water intakes were different. so you had decided to let nature take its course with the fungus and foliage sprouting in your backyard.

and these would be no ordinary flowers, no no! you need something… special. because after some thought, you realize you can’t kill flowers that you’ve created. they can’t die if your magic is what brought them into this world. so now, you’re on a mission. a mission to prove you’ll be the best magical gardener there is!

you practically float down the stairs to your work room, already envisioning the spell book you have in mind. a friend had gifted it to you while cleaning out her own collection and you didn’t have the heart to decline, so it’s been sitting untouched for a while.

the door to your library is still a little jammed, needing to use more force than necessary just to get a book. you should probably get that fixed.. “sungho!! can you write down in my journal that we—” you’re met with a face full of chest when you turn around.

“need to fix the door? i can get on that tomorrow.” he smiles, nodding before pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head and easing the door open for you. you freeze for a second, a little dazed but now isn’t the time to get distracted, you have a job to do.

however, you’ve searched high and low for this spell book and it’s no where to be seen! and you’re a surprisingly organized person when it comes to your library so you know the exact shelf it should be on. but even after searching from the nature section all the way to books on pyrotechnics, you’ve just about torn apart your library.

a pout carves itself onto your face as you weigh your options. you cut yourself off before calling for sungho, thinking you should try to do this one thing yourself this time. you roll up your sleeves, tie up your hair, and venture to the deep storage in the back of the room. you open up the first box to your left, only to be met with.. a huge spider!?

the lid slams closed and you scurry back to the edge of the counter, your beloved cat appearing before you even get through the second syllable of his name. he allows you to tuck yourself behind him as he lets the arachnid crawl free outside of your window. a warm hand settles on the small of your back and leads you out of the storage room.

“you could’ve just asked for my help,” his hand slowly smooths over your hip to keep you close, as if to soften the way he scolds you for being careless.

you mumble something about not wanting to be a bother as your eyes catch on what’s sitting on your desk. a dusty and well loved copy of ‘from wisterias to wildflowers: a guide to floral witchery!’ there before your very eyes.

“how did- where was— you found it??” your legs move faster than your brain towards the book, fingers now flipping through the pages at lightning speed trying to find the right spell.

he hums in admiration for how you light up at what he’s brought back for you. “under your bedside table, where you normally keep your book recommendations.”

oops. you’d berate yourself for your ignorance if you weren’t so invested in finding just the right flower.

after some time of studying each page, one section catches your attention; flora enhancement. the passage claims that a pre-existing, healthy plant can be transformed into another species under the right conditions. perfect!

since your luck with shrubbery is less than ideal, you call for your cute lab assistant to find one for you, “yeppiii, could you find me something like this from outside?” you point to the examples of ‘preferred plants for first stage.’

he nods dutifully which allows for you to prepare your work space. the steps seem easy enough, only needing a few ingredients to get to the flower you want. it does, however, require an elixir you dread making. it’s time consuming and very precise, so you keep a spare batch of it on the top shelf as to avoid having to make more in the future.

so with a sigh, you reach up as far as you can to grab the glass bottle. the tips of your fingers graze the sides but you can’t get a good grip on it, how did you even get this up here? you huff out of frustration and jump up to scoot it forward, the way it teeters dangerously close to the edge goes unnoticed.

one more push should do it, you think, so you use your other hand as leverage against the counter and jump up again. your heart sinks when your fingers nudge it the wrong way and it wobbles once, twice, and—

“i thought i told you to ask me for help.” a larger hand shoots out in front of your face and lowers the bottle to the counter. his voice, while stern and a little sharp, is laced with concern that you know better than to argue against.

his other hand cradles a small pot filled with soil and several bunches of little flowers, you recognize them as forget-me-nots. with a quick and appreciative kiss to his cheek, you take the pot and line it up with all the other ingredients you need.

there’s a faint sense of doubt swirling in your chest, you’ve never been good with plants. the chances of messing up your home, while small, linger in the back of your mind.

but when you catch sungho in the corner of your eye, it all melts away.

you’re good at magic, it’s hardly new to you. you’ve been doing this for years with your good luck charm by your side. some flower isn’t gonna ruin your life!

you crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and get to work.

. ⟡ ݁ ˖ 𓂃 𓈒 ✶

TEST #1: FORGET-ME-NOTS -> MORNING GLORIES

you scribble your first experiment into the top corner of your journal. this should be relatively easy, you think, neither of the flowers are necessarily intricate or over the top. it’s just like.. putting forget-me-nots onto a vine, not that big of a jump!

as morning glories are described as ‘funnel-shaped vining flowers,’ they require a different set of conditions to change into from forget-me-nots, which are ‘spring flowers’. the steps in the spell book instruct you to isolate the original plant as best you can and use a mix of two different potions to accelerate the growth process.

after measuring the liquids with an amount of precision unusual to even you, the bunch of flowers starts growing before your eyes. the leaves spread wider and petals gain more color. you’re about to turn to sungho and announce your success until you remember the last step; expose to sunlight for ~20 seconds immediately after mixture is introduced.

dang it.

the flowers begin to wilt as your self esteem deflates along with them. and sungho, who’s just witnessed the rise and fall of your expression as he walked back into the room, scoots the pot out of the way and brings a fresh one into frame.

“trial run,” he says as reassurance, arm slung around your shoulder. “that’s why you’re experimenting,” he squeezes your arm to comfort you and carefully kisses your temple.

and to your delight, test #1.5 goes smoothly and you jot down your findings in your notebook.

TEST #2: MORNING GLORIES -> STAR JASMINE

the enhancements start getting easier after the initial transformation of the first, thankfully.

star jasmines, considered a ‘flowering plant,’ are a little more delicate than morning glories. which makes the process both easier and harder to complete. less ingredients but more patience and precision.

first, you dig a couple cinnamon sticks into the soil for its scent and thinning their delicate petals. easy!

the second step, however, is far more tedious; sprinkling exactly 5 grains of sugar into its stigma. that’s what gives the jasmine its body from the morning glories, so a wrong measurement can change it completely.

your feline hones in on the slight tremble in your hand as you separate each minuscule cube. the warmth of his palm hovers over your wrist as you use the end of your tweezers to gently place the sweetener into the pollen tubes.

his nose twitches from the increase of pollen in the air and a tickle in his nose brings up a threat of a sneeze that could throw you off completely. he tries keeping it at bay as he holds his breath, not realizing his grip on your wrist is growing tighter. unable to fight it off, sungho hides his face in your neck, ears tucked back and eyes shut tight.

“sungho..?” your voice is small and he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like the slight trace of doubt that follows your tone.

but you repeat his name, now louder and.. excited?

“sungho!! sungho— yeppi look!” he peels himself off of your neck and your eyes are sparkling with smile on your face so wide it’s almost blinding.

“it.. it worked!! look, they’re white now! and thinner- oh they’re so prettyyy,” you take a step back to take in your work, proud of yourself. “i- i did it!!” yeah. pretty was right.

sungho praises your success and plucks a few of the flowers off to put in your hair, claiming they remind him of you and your perfume. he was the one who was interested in gardening in the first place, so you let it slide with a blush on your cheeks.

TEST #3: STAR JASMINE -> CYPRESS VINES

with the last trial having boosted your confidence, you’re sure this next round will be the final one.

another ‘climbing vine’ flower variant, cypress vines take on a star shape similar to jasmines, only fuller in shape. that’ll make it easier for you to enhance them size-wise, color is a whole other story.

these steps are similar to the previous ones, this time using ground nutmeg around the roots for longer vines and vanilla bean paste on the petals to fill them in. it’s just the colors aren’t exactly what you had in mind. the white is cute, but too simple for what the rest of your home interior looks like.

the deep red you had envisioned is quite the jump from its original ivory white. the book mentioned something about color lightening, so deepening a color shouldn’t be much different.

“hmm.. oh i know what this needs!” you perk up as you lean over to quickly scribble something down in your notebook, free hand outstretched. “sungho dearest, could you grab me the—” a small vile of liquid sits in your palm before you can finish your sentence.

“mint oil, right?” it’s like he read your mind, and with the way his eyes are locked onto yours, that doesn’t seem so impossible. you really shouldn’t even be shocked, he’s been your other half for years now that sharing a brain wouldn’t be that crazy.

with each drop, the bright white of each petal gradually shifts into a blush pink, soon deepening into a rosy red and settling into a beautiful shade of maroon. the perfect color for your decor that just so happens to complement the lightness of your kitty’s hair.

you mark test #3 as a success and grin at the words written at the bottom of the page;

FLORA ENHANCEMENT COMPLETED! COMPLICATIONS : minimal… ABILITY TO REPLICATE : high possibility!!

. ⟡ ݁ ˖ 𓂃 𓈒 ✶

now, as you finish cleaning up (and let sungho put the heavier jars away for you), you envision all of the spots you’ll hang your vining flowers from. one spot in particular stays noticeably empty.

you pluck off a star shaped flower and call your kitty over. he cranes his head down as per your request, ready for instructions, when he feels your hand smooth over his hair and brush his ear.

“there, because it reminds me of you.” a pretty pink flower tucked behind his ear, practically matching the shade on his cheeks.

“now we match.”

like what you see? check my masterlist for more!! feel free to join my taglist if you’d like to be notified!! ↳ @xionvlog , @ivehan , @hraethy , @angelsemble , @starriniqhts

The lights have dimmed to set the romance in the air. Cherry blossoms fly. Your hair cascades, twined with lace and ribbon, flowing gently in the 50 inch high velocity industrial stage fan.

The world is your oyster. You are the pearl of this show.

"Take 1. Action!"

"How was I to think you’d fall for me so easily?" Your voice is pinched with regret when you speak, eyes big and glassy and sympathy-inducing.

You are perfect. You are Love.

"You were foolish to fall in love with me. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have done this, for both our sakes," you say, reciting the lines you'd written in place of the old, character-assassinating ones.

Taesan scoffs dramatically. He runs a distressed hand through his (admittedly luscious) hair, before meeting your eyes once more. "You strung me along for a year!" He makes a wild gesture with his hand. "Please… Please, be selfish for once. Choose us over everyone else. I know how charitable you are, how kind… But please, Love, for once in your life, choose yoursel—are you sure this is right?" He breaks characters to shoot a probing look at Sungho.

Sungho doesn't even bother to say CUT! He just slumps down into his chair, tipping his head back and boring holes into the high ceiling of the studio.

But you, however, are not impressed.

"Yes he's sure it's right. We came to an agreement with the revised script already!" You stomp in frustration, thinking of how annoying it was to have to convince Sungho to give in.

"Well, the revised script is BO-RING," Taesan yawns. Yawns! This jackas— "Like," he continues as though he can't see you lift your fingers to set his hair (why is so luscious, ugh, undeserved!) on fire, and he's already digging his pocket for his precious mirror. "The show isn't gonna sell if the female lead is all 'wahhhh, look at me, I'm so sweet and sappy. I love puppies and kittens and forgiveness.' EW!"

"BUT THAT'S WHO THE GODDESS OF LOVE IS! SHE IS MADE OF LOVE, YOU HEATHEN!" You shriek back, having to reel yourself back when you see Leehan sprint forward to hold onto you, just in case you did something regrettable.

But Taesan isn't even listening. He's smirking lopsided at his reflection, brushing under his jaw for a non-existent stubble with his fingers. It's infuriating.

Just when you'd thought life was turning around and Earth was a decent place to hang out in, these puny humans seemed determined to get on your godly nerves. First, it was Woonhak uploading a rather misunderstood video of you and Sungho onto the interwebs (you forgot if that's what it's called…whatever), making it look like you were—goddess forbid—holding his sweaty little hand.

You were not. It's just that you had to act fast and grab his hand before he could start making red-pen-marks all across the genius dialogues you'd edited in.

And then the stupid tweeter started shipping you together to oblivion, saying you make a cute couple and that they're waiting for the tension to finally break between you.

(The only thing you'd hoped to break was his hand. And there is no way, not in a million gazillion heavenly years, that you'd be shipped anywhere with Larp Sungho of all people! Hmmf!)

The set is in commotion: Sungho stands up to take his seventeenth smoke break of the day (it's only 9 AM now), Riwoo exchanges a tired look with Kazuha, and Rei grumbles under her breath to Danielle who is waiting to get her make-up done. Jungwon refuses to be on set at all, so he's snoring away somewhere in his office, making up for lost sleep.

Which leaves you, seething at the stupid urchin that was Taesan, and Leehan trying to shield your sight from him.

"C'mon woman, ease up," Taesan says, still looking into his mirror. "You act like you are the goddess of love or something. Chill out."

Oh, that does it! You can forgive a lot, but you draw the line at being accused of pretending to be who you are—have been since the creation of the universe. When there was peace. Before plagues. Before death. Disease.

Before Taesan or his ugly personality ever came into formation.

You aren't too keen on thinking too deeply before lifting the magic in your pointer finger and zapping it at Taesan over your agent's shoulder, already excited to see him fall in love with his own reflection and suffer the same horrid fate that that guy Narcissus did.

But.

A teeny misjudgement on your part….

Right when the pink spark hits Taesan square in the chest, he looks up in your direction.

Except it's not you he locks eyes with.

It's….

It's Leehan who's turned around just in time to meet Taesan's sightline.

One second passes. Then two. And when the horror of the moment settles into your stomach, and Leehan's confusion makes itself apparent in the way he blinks like a trapped prey, you see it. The way Taesan has gone absolutely dazed.

The mirror in his hand slips loose and shatters onto the ground, into thousands of jagged pieces. His eyes look drunk. And the smile on his face… it isn't sinister or slimy.

An actual genuine, lovesick smile, reserved only for the object of his affections: your innocent familiar and wonderful friend, Leehan.

Oh fuck…you may have messed it up. Oh—

You don't even have time to digest the mess of this situation when the next insane thing happens. A few gasps resound from the crowd below. At first you think they've somehow noticed your invisible powers, but then the truth of the matter proves to be much, much worse.

White smoke rise and billows below, obscuring your vision and making the crew break out into a fit of coughs. Then comes a voice, as the fog slowly clears up, something menacing. Something arrogant.

Something unfortunately familiar.

The mist begins to clear up slowly, the silhouette behind the veil getting more visible as they walk forward in tantalising steps—no, struts. Then comes the almost water-like blue robes swishing behind him, then the carefully tousled mess of his dark curls. Then the pair of eyes you've known forever, since you were born and he came out a minute after, staring at you like it would have been great to be an only child.

Your mouth is agape when he finally stops in front of the elevated stage, smirking at the way he's caught you off-guard.

"Well, hello there," Jaehyun drawls, arms lifted in theatrical greeting, eyes twinkling in mischief, "Sister dearest."

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