#tense

Airi - 3 weeks later 

She was sitting on the edge of a hospital bed with her legs swinging, humming under her breath as her boyfriend…yes, her boyfriend cut the cast off her arm with a focused expression that really had no business being that attractive.

Seriously. Who allowed this man to look like that with a cast saw in hand?

Sunghoon stood in front of her, hair brushed back, sleeves rolled up, brows slightly furrowed in concentration. His hand gently cradled her arm, careful with the bone that had spent the last six weeks healing. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist while he worked unconsciously or not, she didn’t know but it made her stomach flutter either way.

Her boyfriend. A hot doctor. Park Sunghoon. Hers.

God help her, she was so whipped.

Not that she hadn’t always been. Let’s be real, it had been game over since she was thirteen and he carried her dance bag home because it looked too heavy for someone that small. And now, years later, he was still carrying things for her, her burdens, her cast, her heart.

“What?” he asked without looking up, catching the corners of her smirk like he could sense it.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, batting her lashes. “But now that you asked…Do you ever get tired of being so ridiculously sexy? It’s honestly rude.”

His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, but he stayed focused. “You’re in a hospital. Behave.”

“I am behaving,” she argued. “This is me tamed. You should’ve seen me before you made me fall in love with you and ruined my whole life.”

That got a snort out of him.

He finally glanced up, eyes locking with hers. “I’m the one who ruined your life?”

“Absolutely,” she said solemnly. “I used to be a heartless, savage flirt. Now I cook dinner and fold your laundry and..” she leaned in, lowering her voice, “let you defile me in every room of your house.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, cheeks tinged pink, but his fingers stilled on her arm, brushing gently along the newly freed skin.

Her arm looked pale and slightly stiff, but healed. Strong. Ready.

“I’m not defiling you,” he muttered, finishing the last bit of wrapping and pulling away slowly. “I’m loving you.”

And just like that, her heart cracked open all over again.

There it was..that Sunghoon kind of love. Quiet, devastating, sincere. The kind that didn’t need fireworks because it was the fire.

They had been glued together since the night everything changed, and honestly? It was blissful chaos. Making up for ten years of tension had turned into sex on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around his waist in the shower, late night kisses pressed against windows, waking up tangled in each other like they were born that way.

He was soft and he was rough, he was shy and he was desperate. She teased him, still did, still would but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this was it.

“You good?” he asked, softly now, wiping down the last bit of tape from her skin.

“I’m great,” she said, eyes on his lips.

“And your arm?”

“I think it’s fine,” she whispered, inching forward. “But I think we should test it…” Sunghoon exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to her mouth before flicking back to her gaze.

“You’re impossible,” he said.

She grinned. “You like it.”

“I love it,” he murmured, voice rough. “And you.”

Their lips met in the quiet of the exam room just a soft press, nothing wild. But it buzzed through her like caffeine, like oxygen, like every performance high she’d ever known.

They were still them, him, quiet and precise. Her, loud and chaotic.

But maybe, just maybe. That was the best part.

-

It was her third day back.

The dance studio smelled like lemon cleaner and ambition. The music was loud. The floor was polished. The mirrors stretched wall to wall. It should’ve been thrilling returning to the place that shaped her, that saw every drop of sweat, every cracked knuckle and bruised toe. And it was.

Mostly.

But five minutes into warmups with the new girls, Airi realized something was off.

She was…bored.

Not with the girls, God no, her new trainees were adorable chaos. The four rookies she’d been assigned under LUX Entertainment's new internal development program were a mess of nerves and eyeliner, but eager and talented and so sweet. They had insisted on naming themselves “D.A.I.S.Y” (short for Dare, Aim, Ignite, Shine, Yes) and Airi had snorted when she heard it. But the way they squealed when she told them it was ‘cute as hell’ made her heart melt just a little.

There was Rumi, 20, soft spoken but moved like liquid fire. Chaeyun, 19, the loud one who called Airi sunbae-nim even when texting. Ina, 18, all big eyes and power vocals, with a killer drop split. And little Sora, 17, the baby, who tried to act tough but once cried because Airi called her a star in the making.

Yeah. Airi loved them.

She’d always been tougher with the boys, her Riot7 boys were her sons and her demons. But with girls, she was different. Still firm, but warmer. She saw parts of herself in them the quiet hunger to be seen, to be enough.

But still, even surrounded by glitter and youth and passion…she was a little bored.

It wasn’t the work. It wasn’t the studio. It wasn’t the aching pull in her arm when she stretched too hard.

Sunghoon.

“God,” she mumbled under her breath, adjusting Sora’s elbow mid combo. “I’m turning into one of those girls.”

She’d spent the last seven weeks living in his orbit. Breathing his air. Sleeping in his shirts. Teasing him over dinner, then being thoroughly ruined on that same kitchen counter thirty minutes later. It had been a dream. A beautiful, delicious, borderline NSFW dream.

And now…they were back to real life.

He had patients. Long hours. A title. Responsibility.

And she had a new contract.

Airi wasn’t an idiot. She knew herself, she would’ve gone back to touring, back to bouncing between cities like a ghost in glitter. But she didn’t want to anymore.

She had gone to LUX last week with her new deal in hand, no more traveling, no more late night flights and weeks away from home. She was now officially a resident choreographer and performance consultant, locked into Seoul with her own team and her own space.

Sunghoon hadn’t even known she changed her contract yet. She was keeping that one close. For now. Because she didn’t change her whole career for him.

She did it for her. But…also maybe so he wouldn’t brood himself into an ulcer without her around to scold him.

“Unnie,” Rumi called from across the floor, “are you smiling at the mirror or are you thinking about your boyfriend again?”

Airi blinked, startled, and then immediately scowled. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

Chaeyun giggled, Ina snorted, and Sora just whispered, “She’s so in love, it’s sickening.”

“Stretch!” Airi barked, cheeks burning. “Five minutes and I want blood, sweat, and no commentary!”

Still, as she turned back to the mirrors, she caught her own reflection, hair in a high bun, leggings and cropped hoodie, a flush to her cheeks.

She looked happy. Tired. Sore. Whipped. But happy.

Her phone buzzed quietly on the bench behind her. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. The name would be boring , just Honnie <3. But the message? Probably something dumb like, Did you ice your arm? or Don’t forget lunch.

And even that made her heart do a little kick. He was working. She was working. They were finally just living. Together. In tandem.

And God, did she miss him.

But maybe it would make coming home to him even better.

Sunghoon 

The apartment was peaceful.

Soft jazz murmured from the speakers, a candle flickered on the kitchen island, and Sunghoon was sitting at the counter with his laptop, glasses on, a glass of wine in hand, and not a single stress wrinkle on his forehead.

Airi wasn’t here tonight.

She was staying at her apartment, the one closer to the LUX Entertainment building and had sent him a grainy mirror selfie of her in mismatched pajamas, one sock on and a bag of chips in her lap with the caption: your hot girlfriend is thriving and totally not crying over that one Ateez performance.

He missed her like a damn idiot.

They hadn't talked about it, not seriously but God, he wanted her to just live here. With her hair clips on the sink and her perfume in his closet and her bad habits all over his kitchen. It had only been two weeks since her cast came off, and they’d slipped back into the rhythm of full time careers, busy days, and nightly check ins.

And he was still, undeniably, helplessly whipped.

Then came the bang loud and obnoxious. The door flew open suddenly like someone was on a mission. Like flew open. No knock. No text warning. No key turn.

Just boom.

Three devils on parade stormed into his apartment like it was the opening scene of a crime drama, and Sunghoon didn’t even look up. He just exhaled. Loudly.

“Why,” he said slowly, “does God hate me.”

“YAH!” Sunoo stomped in first, fluffy blonde hair swinging, boots clicking like a runway model possessed. “You absolute rat! You sneaky, back alley, secretive whore of a man.”

“I’m not doing this today,” Sunghoon muttered, taking another sip of wine.

Jay was next and smug as ever, his expensive jacket slung over one shoulder, Rolex glinting under the kitchen lights like a weapon. Park Jongseong, Seoul’s most famous Formula One driver, with nothing better to do, apparently, than break into his friend's house.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Monaco or something?” Sunghoon asked.

Jay shrugged. “I came back early. Heard a certain doctor was getting his back broken by someone very familiar.”

Sunghoon choked.

And then came Jungwon.

That smug, all knowing smirk.

Already on the couch. Arms crossed. Legs stretched out like he owned the place. Which, legally speaking, he probably could if he wanted to.

“Shouldn’t you be home?” Sunghoon deadpanned. “Don’t you have, like, a wife? A kid? A second kid on the way?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said calmly. “And they’re both angels. Unlike you.”

“Fuck my life,” Sunghoon muttered, setting the wine down.

And then it came.

Sunoo’s eyes burned into his soul, finger jabbing toward him with the precision of someone who sold skyscrapers and souls before lunch.

“You’re. Fucking. Nishimura Airi.”

The words hit like a bullet.

Sunghoon blinked. Felt his brain short circuit. Soul left his body. There was a brief moment of silence. “Define ‘fucking,’” he said flatly.

Sunoo screamed.

Jay barked a laugh and nearly knocked over the fruit bowl on accident. Jungwon just leaned his chin on his fist, eyes narrowed like he was examining him.

“Okay, listen..” Sunghoon started, but Sunoo cut him off, picking up pace like a dramatic K-drama villain.

“We asked you.”

“You lied,” Jay added, so smug he could drown in his own ego.

“You said she was staying for recovery,” Jungwon said. “Then we heard she hasn’t left your house in weeks. And when she did? She looked like she just survived the best cardio of her life.”

Sunghoon groaned into his palms.

“God…please-”

“And!” Sunoo snapped, whipping out his phone. “We checked her TikTok! There’s a video of her lips bruised like someone’s been eating her alive and she used the ‘tell me your man loves you without telling me your man loves you’ audio. You thought we wouldn’t notice?!”

“She made you breakfast!” Jay pointed an accusatory finger. “You hate breakfast!”

“She makes it in his shirt,” Jungwon said with faux concern. “That’s love, bro. That’s dangerous.”

Sunghoon stood, palms flat on the counter.

“Yes!” he snapped. “I’m fucking Airi.”

The room went still.

Even Sunoo paused mid rant.

“I’ve been fucking Airi. I am fucking Airi. I will continue fucking Airi. I love her. We’re together. I want her in my house. I want her in my bed. I want her in my damn soul, are you happy now?!”

There was a pause.

Then Jay exhaled, impressed. “Damn.”

“Finally,” Jungwon muttered.

Sunoo looked like he wanted to cry. “I just…” he whispered. “You’re so lucky. You bagged Nishimura Airi. You…you asshole.”

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

“Nope,” Jay said, dropping onto the couch next to Jungwon. “Now we talk wedding plans.”

“What wedding?!” Sunghoon hissed.

“The one you're obviously planning in your sad, repressed, head,” Jungwon said, snatching a grape.

“And I’m picking the color scheme,” Sunoo sniffled, already texting someone. “It’ll be so hot.”

Sunghoon groaned again, praying for mercy from the universe.

But when his phone lit up with a message from Airi a soft little, ‘miss me, doctor?’ paired with a mirror photo of her in his hoodie. Yeah.

Okay.

Maybe he didn’t mind the chaos so much.

"Okay, but seriously," Sunghoon muttered, running a hand down his face, "how the hell did you actually find out?"

Jungwon didn't even blink. “Yeji.”

Sunghoon stared at him.

Jungwon shrugged like it was obvious. “She tells me everything.”

“Which, in extension,” Jay said, tilting his head with a smug grin, “means we know everything.”

“Son of a-” Sunghoon slumped back against the counter. “I should’ve known. Your wife is basically a government agency.”

“She’s an informant for the greater good,” Jungwon said proudly.

“You mean for the mess,” Sunghoon grumbled, rubbing his temple.

Sunoo lifted his hand. “I, for one, am grateful. I’ve been shipping this for years.”

“You ship me and Airi?” Sunghoon asked, incredulous.

Sunoo raised both brows. “I almost became you.”

“What?!”

“If you hadn’t made a move,” Sunoo said, dramatic as ever, “I would’ve seduced her myself. We’d be happily married, raising a golden retriever named Peach.”

An ice cube soared through the air and bounced off his shoulder with a satisfying thunk.

“Don’t talk about my girlfriend,” Sunghoon muttered darkly.

“Awwww, he said my girlfriend,” Jay teased, grinning like an idiot.

Sunghoon ignored him, walking to the fridge to grab water mostly to busy his hands, mostly to cool down. His thoughts were already racing, already tangled around a name he hadn’t dared say yet. Not out loud.

But the others beat him to it.

“You tell Ni-ki yet?” Jungwon asked quietly.

The room froze.

Silence stretched.

Sunghoon didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood with his back to them, fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle.

“No,” he finally said. “Not yet.”

Jay leaned forward, no longer joking. “You gonna?”

Sunghoon exhaled, head hanging slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “He gets back in three days. From L.A. I’m gonna talk to him the second he lands.”

“And if he’s mad?” Sunoo asked gently.

Sunghoon turned, gaze steady. “Then he’s mad.”

He crossed his arms. His tone didn’t waver, but it carried the weight of an undercurrent of years buried beneath skin and silence.

“I’ve been his best friend since we were seven and nine,” Sunghoon said. “I carried him home when he split his chin open trying to backflip off the swings. We’ve gotten into fights, said awful things, cried, made up…but this? This is different. And I know it.”

Jay’s smile softened. “He’ll come around.”

“I know,” Sunghoon muttered. “Eventually. But I’m not gonna hide it from him.”

There was a pause. Then Sunoo smiled slyly. “Okay, but wait. Real question. Who confessed first?”

Sunghoon stared.

Sunoo leaned in dramatically. “Come on. You owe us that. Was it passionate? Dramatic? A heated hallway kiss after an argument? A dramatic airport scene?”

“Jesus Christ,” Jay muttered.

“It was me,” Sunghoon finally admitted, face heating despite himself. “Alright? I confessed.”

Sunoo gasped so loud it echoed off the ceiling.

Jay smirked again, standing to stretch, then clapped a hand on Sunghoon’s back. “About damn time. We’ve all known how pathetically in love you were with her for years.”

Sunghoon scowled. “Was it that obvious?”

“Painfully,” Jungwon chimed in. “Sunoo had a whole PowerPoint ready.”

“I still do!” Sunoo squeaked.

Sunghoon groaned again. He felt exposed. Stripped open like they’d peeled back years of carefully constructed denial.

But at the same time…he felt lighter.

“Honestly?” Jungwon said as he stood, grabbing his coat. “I’m happy for you. You both deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Jay agreed. “And don’t stress about Ni-ki too much. You’ve got decades of friendship. If anyone’s gonna understand, it’s him.”

“And if he doesn’t,” Sunoo said with a dramatic wave of his hand, “then I’m declaring Airi mine.”

“Out!” Sunghoon barked.

Laughter rang through the apartment as they all shuffled out, Jay flipping him off on the way, Jungwon giving him a look that said good luck, and Sunoo shouting something about wedding colors.

And then the door clicked shut. Finally alone, Sunghoon leaned against the counter again, head back, eyes shut.

He was happy. Really fucking happy.

But still.

“Shit,” he whispered. “How the hell am I gonna handle Nishimura Ni-ki?”

Because no matter what the others said, no matter how sure he felt about Airi…

That conversation was going to change everything.

Airi

The apartment was bathed in low amber light, the kind that made everything feel slower, softer, suspended. A slice of strawberry cake sat on the marble counter as Sunghoon cut into it with steady hands, too steady, Airi noticed.

She blinked slowly, her chin resting on her folded arms across the back of the couch, legs curled beneath her and clad in nothing but his oversized black t-shirt. Her skin still tingled, still warm from their earlier ‘workout,’ a teasing smile curling the corners of her mouth at the memory. His shirt clung to her in places, too big but perfect, and she’d never loved being out of a cast more in her life.

Sunghoon stood shirtless by the counter, back to her, lithe muscles moving with precision, the pale skin of his back marred with angry red scratches her scratches. She’d teased him that he’d need to invest in better lotion if he wanted to survive her full range of affection. He hadn’t complained once.

But now?

Now, he was quiet. Too quiet.

She watched the way he exhaled slowly before setting the knife down with a soft clink, both hands bracing the counter as he leaned into it like it was holding up more than just his weight.

Yeah. His mind was racing.

Without a word, Airi slipped off the couch and padded over on bare feet. She slid in behind him, her arms gently wrapping around his middle, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades as she hugged him tightly.

He froze for a beat. Then slowly, he relaxed into her.

She pressed a tender kiss against his back, her lips grazing a fading bruise before she whispered, “What’s wrong, Doc Honey?”

Sunghoon exhaled a soft, near laugh. “That nickname is awful.”

“You love it,” she grinned into his skin.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, voice low, warm, vulnerable. “I do.”

She hummed against his back. “So…what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours? You’re quieter than usual. And that’s saying something.”

Sunghoon hesitated. His fingers tapped lightly against the marble.

“I’m nervous,” he finally said, and it sounded like a confession dragged out from somewhere deep in his ribs. “About Ni-ki.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Because he’s coming back tomorrow?”

He nodded, gaze fixed forward. “Yeah. I mean he’s your brother. My best friend. And we’ve…been doing this,” his hand gestured vaguely behind him toward the couch, the bedroom, her, “-without telling him. And I know I should’ve told him the second this started, but…”

“You didn’t want to lose this,” she finished for him softly.

He nodded again. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Riri. And it still feels too good to be real. Like if I say it out loud to him, it’ll disappear.”

Airi took a slow breath. Then she reached for his hand, threading their fingers together and tugging him gently to turn and face her.

Sunghoon met her eyes.

“This..” she began, tone calm but steady, “...isn’t some fling. Not some lust filled rebound or heat of the moment thing we’ll forget next week.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flickering between hers.

“I love you, Park Sunghoon,” she said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “I have for years. And I’m not going anywhere. So whether Ni-ki throws a tantrum, or acts like a jerk, or stares you down like he did that one guy who asked me to prom, none of that matters.”

Sunghoon’s mouth twitched, amused in spite of himself.

“Because he doesn’t get to decide what happens here,” she continued, softly but with steel. “We do. You do. And if you still want me tomorrow, next week, next year, then we’ll deal with whatever comes.”

He looked at her like she was the only light left in the room.

“Besides,” she added, leaning in with a smirk, “if he does get mad i’ll fight him.” That pulled a small laugh out of him, warm and disbelieving. “You’ll fight your brother?”

“I’ll bite him on the arm if I have to.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m yours,” she corrected. “Which means I’m our level of insane.”

Sunghoon bent down, resting his forehead to hers, and just breathed for a moment.

“I do still want you,” he whispered. “Tomorrow. Next week. Always.”

“Good,” she smiled, stealing a quick kiss. “Because you’re not getting rid of me. Not after all that wall banging cardio.”

Sunghoon groaned into her neck. “God, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Only after dessert,” she teased.

And as he lifted her onto the counter to feed her cake with a fork, some of the anxiety left his shoulders, replaced with love. With them.

Ni-ki was coming.

But so was the truth.

And finally, they were ready to face it.

-

The lights were dim but warm, casting golden shadows across the sleek walls of Ni-ki’s house. The kind of clean, modern space that looked like it belonged in a lifestyle magazine but was lived in enough to still feel like home. Music buzzed quietly through the speakers, drinks clinked, and laughter bloomed here and there, bouncing from room to room.

Airi stood near the kitchen, perched on the edge of the counter with a drink in her hand, bare legs crossed, Sunoo and Jay on either side of her like twin devils sent to ruin her peace.

“You know, I think I liked you more when you were grumpy and single,” Sunoo said, taking a dramatic sip from his wineglass, pinky raised.

“She’s still grumpy,” Jay added. “Just in love now. Like a gremlin with a boyfriend.”

Airi rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Keep talking. I’ll tell Jungwon about the dress incident.”

Sunoo gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Jay grinned. “Tell me more.”

Across the room, she could see him.

Sunghoon.

Standing with Jungwon, Jake, and Heeseung in a quieter corner of the house, drink in hand, head slightly tilted as he listened. He looked good with black slacks, dark button down, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms, hair pushed back like he hadn’t even tried. He never did, and it always drove her insane.

But tonight, he was tense. His posture was straighter than usual. His touches, when they brushed past each other earlier, were too light measured. Like she might shatter. Or worse, like they would be seen.

She didn’t take it personally. Not tonight.

Because tonight wasn’t about her.

It was about him. The bond between Sunghoon and her older brother, the one forged through years of quiet understanding, laughter, rivalry, and loyalty. A bond she’d admired from the sidelines her whole life. It had been sacred. Untouchable.

Until now.

Now it was her standing between them. Her and a love that had been blooming for far too long in silence.

She let Sunghoon have this night. Gave him the space to exist without pressure. To breathe through the nerves. To laugh with the people who had always known him before they became something more.

So Airi smiled and let herself be teased. She let Jay loop an arm around her shoulder and joke about how whipped she looked. Let Sunoo demand to know if they were living together yet. Let Heeseung glance at her from across the room, his expression saying he knows even if his mouth didn’t.

She watched Jake light up as he told them all about the small local school he’d visited with his team and how they fell in love with the kids there. 

She laughed when Heeseung admitted to ghosting his director and flying back during filming, waving a hand like what’s a movie to family anyway?

She missed Yeji, her calm, sweet soul but understood why she stayed home. Four months pregnant with a daughter who could out sass a grown man? Yeah, bringing her to this chaos would've been a war crime.

Airi was thankful for this family. This wild, loud, reckless group of people who had become her people. The ones who would tease her, love her, defend her, and absolutely burn cities for her.

Still…

Her eyes wandered back to Sunghoon.

He wasn’t laughing as much as he usually did. He was present, but not fully.

And she knew why.

Ni-ki.

The prodigal superstar was on his way home from America. Probably minutes away. His flight had landed, and he was already in the car. He didn’t know about them at least not from her or Sunghoon. Not yet.

And the secret sat heavy between her shoulder blades.

She slid off the counter with practiced grace, ignoring the way Sunoo and Jay made dramatic “ooooh” noises as she grabbed two fresh drinks and padded across the house.

She handed one to Sunghoon without a word, brushing her fingers against his.

He didn’t look at her right away. Just took the glass, eyes fixed on the dark hardwood floor.

Then he finally looked up. Their eyes met. And in that glance, in that half second they spoke silently. 

I’m here.

I know.

It’s okay.

We’ll tell him soon.

She smiled softly, the kind of smile that made her cheeks ache and her chest swell.

The door opened.

Laughter. A familiar deep voice. The sound of footsteps. Bags dropping.

And every single head in the house turned at once.

Airi inhaled.

Sunghoon was still beside her.

Ni-ki was home.

Sunghoon

He shouldn’t be this scared.

He’s a 27 year old man. A doctor. A professional who has saved lives, stitched wounds, stared death in the face and told it to try harder. He’s dealt with hospital code blues, angry parents, and crying children.

And yet…

The weight of Nishimura Riki’s unreadable stare across the room had him sweating through his shirt like a teenager about to get caught sneaking in past curfew.

Because Ni-ki, despite being only one year older than Airi and his ride or die, was terrifying in ways no medical emergency ever was. He didn’t shout. He didn’t break. He just saw.

Everything.

And fuck, Sunghoon knew Ni-ki was seeing it now.

It was in the subtle ways. The way Ni-ki’s sharp eyes drifted back and forth like clockwork, first to his sister, then to Sunghoon. Again. And again.

Airi was trying. She wasn’t touching him. She was playing it cool, mingling effortlessly, laughing loud as ever with the others. Her wild story to Jungwon about Jaehee putting glitter glue in the Minamis hair had everyone cackling, her arms flailing as she told it, curls bouncing.

She looked free. Soft. Happy.

She looked like love.

Sunghoon?

He was quiet. Awkward. Giving space like it was the only offering he could make.

Because Ni-ki was watching.

And Ni-ki was happy, he could tell. That was the worst part. His best friend was happy, home from tour, relaxed for once. There were no cameras, no managers, no script. Just friends, family, and Seoul air.

Sunghoon didn’t want to ruin it.

Didn’t want to be the reason that happiness faded.

But he had a feeling a thick, cold sensation under his ribs that Ni-ki already knew.

Not because of anything said or done. But because Ni-ki had always read him too well. Knew what his silences meant. Knew his tells, his fidgets, the way his jaw would flex when he was lying, or hiding, or afraid.

And Sunghoon was all three tonight.

Hiding, lying, afraid.

He already had planned to wait until the others left. Offer to help clean up. Stay behind. Then tell him. Man to man. Brother to brother.

It’s me and her, and I’m not sorry.

But the way Ni-ki kept watching him now, with that unreadable expression that was too calm to be calm, had Sunghoon wondering if the plan even mattered.

Maybe it was already too late.

Maybe Ni-ki already knew.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let his eyes drift to where Airi now stood by the drink table, laughing with Sunoo, her mouth full of pretzels as she tried to talk and only made everyone laugh harder. Even Jake was giggling like a fool.

She caught his eye for just a second. One heartbeat of a look.

Soft. Knowing. Steady.

It wrecked him.

He loved her.

So goddamn much.

And he’d waited too long, been too scared, too loyal, too stupid.

But not anymore.

The truth was in their touches now, even the ones not given. The invisible thread of her presence tugged at every part of him. He wanted her here. Always. Her laughter, her noise, her chaos it soothed something in him he hadn’t even known was cracked.

So maybe he was scared.

But this? She?

She was worth it.

Even if his best friend looked like he was already writing the eulogy for Sunghoon’s funeral in his head.

-

The room was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that filled your ears with the thump of your own pulse, made every breath feel too loud, too sharp. The kind that only came before a storm or a war.

Sunghoon stood near the center of Ni-ki’s living room, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket like he could somehow anchor himself to reality that way. The door had shut behind the last of their friends almost an hour ago. Airi had left earlier, her parting words soft and understanding:

"If you feel like you need to do this alone…okay. But I’ll be waiting, Hoon."

No kiss.

Just the brush of her hand on his chest and eyes that said everything.

And now, here he was.

Staring at the man he had called his best friend for over a decade.

Ni-ki rolled his neck slowly, one side, then the other. It cracked loudly twice like he was stretching before a brawl. His arms crossed over his chest, his stance loose but coiled, like someone ready to spring if needed.

Sunghoon lost ten years off his life.

"Got something to tell me?"

The words weren’t sharp, but they cut anyway.

And suddenly Sunghoon couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He exhaled once, slowly. Then he looked Ni-ki in the eye. Not with defiance. Not with shame. Just…truth.

“I love your sister.”

It came out steady. Clear. A declaration not a defense.

He saw the flicker behind Ni-ki’s eyes, the slight shift in his shoulders, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

“I think I always have,” he continued, voice low and weighted. “Even when we were younger, it was there. I buried it. I made excuses. I kept my distance. I stayed quiet because I thought I was being respectful. Because I thought…I thought you deserved that loyalty more than I deserved her.”

A beat of silence.

“She was sixteen when she left for Europe, and I told myself I didn’t care. I had to believe it. That she’d go live her life, and I’d keep living mine, and nothing would change. But it did. Every year, every visit, every time she walked into a room and lit it up like she always does, I felt it grow. And I hated myself for it.”

His voice cracked just slightly, but he held firm.

“I told myself she was off limits. You were my best friend. She was your sister. End of story. But every time she got close, every time she laughed at my stupid jokes, every time she looked at me like I was more than some second brother Ni-ki, I broke a little more.”

He stepped forward, just once. Not too close, but not afraid.

“She came back hurt. And I was angry. Not at her. At myself. Everyone. I’d waited so long to be someone worthy of her, and she still walked through my door with a broken arm and a smile like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.”

He swallowed hard, heart racing.

“And I tried to keep it in. Even when she stayed with me. Even when she laughed at my shirts and cooked me breakfast in the morning and yelled at me to stop hovering. Even when she kissed me back.”

Another pause.

Then, quieter: “But I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to.”

Sunghoon’s shoulders lifted, then fell with the weight of everything he’d just said. His eyes never left Ni-ki’s face.

“I’m not sorry, Ni-ki. I love her. I want to build a life with her. And I’m telling you this now not to ask for permission, but because I owe you the truth. Because you’re my brother. Because I hope...you still see me the same way. Even if things are different now.”

The room was still.

The air thick.

And all Sunghoon could do now was stand there heart bared, defenses dropped, love etched into every syllable and wait.

The silence was suffocating.

Thick and loud, pressing against Sunghoon’s ribs like iron bands, making each breath harder than the last. He stood frozen, arms limp at his sides, chest rising and falling too fast for someone trying to look calm. His words still echoed faintly in the corners of the room.

Ni-ki hadn’t said a single word.

Just stared.

Those sharp, unreadable eyes of his, the ones that missed nothing and gave away even less, stayed locked onto him like they were peeling back his layers. Picking apart every memory. Every touch. Every glance. Like he was building a timeline of betrayal.

Sunghoon’s stomach turned.

This was it. This was how he lost a twenty year friendship. A lifetime of shared birthdays and bruises and secrets whispered at 2 a.m. after heartbreaks or wins or just surviving another year together.

He braced himself for the hit verbal or physical, it didn’t matter. He deserved both.

But then…

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Not a punch.

Not a shove.

Just a hand, solid, steady, and familiar.

Sunghoon blinked, barely registering the warmth behind it until Ni-ki’s voice cut through his haze, low and rough but far too calm to be angry. "It’s about damn time, idiot."

Sunghoon’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

Ni-ki was smirking. That infuriating, lazy smirk that usually meant trouble or triumph. His grip on Sunghoon’s shoulder tightened for just a second before he let go, crossing his arms and leaning back like the last ten minutes hadn’t aged Sunghoon a decade.

“What..what?” Sunghoon croaked, blinking again like the words hadn’t made sense.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “You think I didn’t know? You think I haven’t known?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

Ni-ki laughed. Laughed.

“Oh my God, you’re worse than Jungwon when he tried to hide that he was dating Yeji again. And that man proposed after a blackout in December. You’re pathetic.”

Sunghoon choked. “Are you..wait, are you serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” Ni-ki said, raising a brow. “You’re my best friend. She’s my sister. You two have been orbiting each other like sad planets since middle school. You’d glare at any guy who looked at her too long, and she talked about you like you hung the damn moon. What did you think this was?”

“I thought..” Sunghoon’s voice cracked. “I thought you’d hate me.”

Ni-ki’s expression softened, just a little. “You think I don’t want her with someone who gets her? Who knows her coffee order and her moods and why she wears her hair up on bad days even though her body hurts like hell? Who would actually fucking die for her?”

He took a step closer.

“Sunghoon, I trust you more than I trust half the people in my bloodline. If it had been anyone else, I’d be dragging them outside right now. But it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Sunghoon didn’t realize he was shaking until Ni-ki grabbed his other shoulder and gave him a little shake.

“But if you ever break her heart, I will bury you.”

Sunghoon let out a laugh, wet, disbelieving, bordering on emotional breakdown.

“Deal,” he rasped.

They stood there for a moment. Silent again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was full. Years of friendship pressing in, wrapping around them like armor. Like gravity snapping back into place.

Ni-ki pulled him into a sudden, aggressive hug complete with a slap on the back that probably bruised a rib.

“I swear, I thought you were gonna combust the night of the dinner party months ago,” Ni-ki muttered into his shoulder. “You were staring at her like she was the last air on Earth.”

“She is,” Sunghoon mumbled.

Ni-ki groaned. “Gross. You’re disgusting. I need bleach for my ears.”

Sunghoon just laughed, the sound catching in his throat.

This was it. The relief. The chaos. The brotherhood.

When they finally pulled apart, Ni-ki stepped back and narrowed his eyes. “Now go home to my sister and make it official. She’s been waiting all night. And tell her to give me my bracelet back.”

Sunghoon snorted, already grabbing his keys, “You’re still scary as hell, you know.”

“And you’re still a simp. Get out.”

And just like that, the weight was gone. The fear, the dread, the ache of wondering if he was about to lose everything it vanished into the night.

All that was left was the road back to her.

Back to Airi.

Back to home.

Airi

The silence in Sunghoon’s apartment was deafening.

Not a single sound but the humming of the fridge and the occasional slosh of her banana milk carton as she tilted it upside down for the fifth time hoping there was more. Spoiler: there wasn’t. She’d finished the last one twenty minutes ago and was now battling the early stages of a sugar crash and full-blown anxiety spiral.

She had eaten all his watermelon. Literally all of it. The man had a borderline obsessive stockpile in the fridge, perfectly cubed and stacked in little glass containers like edible therapy. Gone. Sorry, lover boy.

Now she was hanging off the edge of his couch, her back half-sunken into the cushions, legs up over the top like she had no bones, long hair sweeping the wooden floors like a mop made of chaos. Dressed in his old med school shirt so big it reached mid-thigh and her faded sweatpants with a hole in the knee, she looked like a fever dream of a very cute, very dramatic ghost.

She had been waiting for hours.

And it wasn’t the waiting itself that was killing her. It was the not knowing. Because she knew Ni-ki. Knew his temper, his protectiveness, and the way he could cut to the bone with just a stare. And she knew Sunghoon her quiet, guarded, loyal idiot of a man who was probably overthinking himself into an ulcer right now.

They hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called.

Just silence.

And now that silence was filling the room around her like smoke.

“What if he’s not okay?” she whispered to the ceiling, eyes wide. “What if Ni-ki pulled a Shounen anime monologue and triggered a personal crisis?”

She groaned, sliding further off the couch until she was practically inverted, blood rushing to her head.

She was going to pass out before her boyfriend even walked through the door.

Boyfriend.

God. Her boyfriend.

Her hand found the tiny swell in her lower belly, her heart skipping.

Because yeah. That was a thing.

One she hadn’t even planned to bring up until later. But the anxiety was getting to her and her brain was a battlefield of fears and future scenarios and possibly watermelon induced hallucinations.

The front door opened.

Her heart jumped straight to her throat.

She flipped over so fast she almost concussed herself on the coffee table, scrambling upright just as Sunghoon walked in and closed the door behind him.

Expressionless.

Like. Completely. Blank.

Like he just saw the world end and was deciding if he wanted to talk about it.

Her heart dropped.

She stood slowly. Fingers twitching at her sides. Staring at him like he’d grown another head.

And the silence was unbearable.

Her mouth opened before her brain could even think about stopping it.

“Is now a bad time to say I’m pregnant?” The silence shattered.

Sunghoon blinked once. Sucked in a sharp breath, and frozen where he stood.

And then the world tipped off its axis.

Sunghoon

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His brain did a full system reboot as the words floated in the air like confetti after a bomb went off. “Is now a bad time to say I’m pregnant?”

What?

No?

Surely she didn’t just..His voice cracked out of him, barely a whisper, “What.”

She stood there like a child caught stealing snacks at 3AM, his shirt hanging off her frame, hair a mess, cheeks puffed like she was holding in breath and regret and whatever panic she was feeling.

But it wasn’t her panicking it was him.

“I mean,” she started, already defensive, “you literally screwed me every day and night for like three weeks straight and expected it not to happen? That’s on you, Doc.”

Sunghoon’s jaw fell slightly.

And then the image of their future hit him all at once, her, round bellied and glowing and snapping at him for eating the last slice of cheesecake, waddling around the kitchen in his shirt, yelling at him in two languages while their baby kicked her ribs.

He sat down hard on the couch.

She flinched like maybe this was the moment he lost it but then he looked up at her, eyes wide and wild with disbelief, and let out the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

He laughed.

Loud, breathless, stunned laughter that turned his whole face into something unrecognizable sunlight and euphoria and everything he’d been afraid to want.

Then without warning, he reached for her, yanking her forward with enough force that she practically fell into his lap.

She squeaked. “What are you?”

But he was already wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in her chest and still laughing, like he couldn’t contain it, like the joy was boiling out of his skin and he didn’t care if he melted.

“You’re serious?” he asked, voice muffled against her.

Airi blinked, confused by the joy rolling off him like waves. “Yes?? I just took three tests this morning. I was gonna wait till you weren’t pale and dead inside but, you know, timing…”

He pulled back just enough to grab her cheeks, squishing them until her lips puckered like a fish. “You’re insane.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” And there it was. The words. The grin. The goddamn glow in his eyes.

“I thought…” he exhaled shakily. “I thought Ni-ki might kill me tonight and instead he said he’s happy for us.”

Airi screamed.

Screamed.

So loud Sunghoon actually winced, brows furrowing as she launched herself forward, locking her arms around his neck and crushing him to her in a grip that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU START WITH THAT?”

He groaned but didn’t let go. “Because you led with pregnant, babe!”

“And?”

He chuckled again, pressing a soft kiss to her head as he held her tighter, grounding himself in her warmth, her smell, her very existence.

His dramatic girl.

His ridiculous, loud, sunshine-and-storms girl.

His girl.

And now…their baby.

Airi – July (3 Months Later)

The summer sun cast its golden fingers over the sprawling backyard of Jay’s gated estate, filtering through the tall trees that bordered the property like sentinels of privacy. The air was warm, laced with the scent of charcoal smoke, grilled meat, and hints of lavender from Yeji’s garden clippings resting on the table in a mason jar vase.

Laughter echoed like wind chimes, soft and wild, drifting through the open space where life bloomed.

The cookout was in full swing.

And Airi stood barefoot in the grass, a lemonade in one hand and the other resting on her barely rounded stomach, watching her chaos born family paint the picture of the life she never thought she'd have.

Three months. Two months pregnant. Zero regrets.

This was everything.

To her left, Jaehee shrieked with joy, tiny legs darting across the lawn like a comet on the run. Her long braid bounced behind her like a tail as Jungwon chased her, breathless and smiling, holding her half finished coloring book like a peace offering and yelling, “Jaehee-yah! If you don’t finish your page, I’m telling your mom!”

“NEVER!” she screamed back, laughing manically as she cut between the lawn chairs and nearly barreled into Sunoo.

Yeji, now at seven months, stood radiant in a soft cream maternity dress, one hand on her belly and the other shading her eyes as she glared at her husband.

“Yang Jungwon,” she said sternly, “if she breaks something again, you’re taking her to the hospital this time.”

Jungwon raised his arms in defeat, turning to his wife with a sheepish grin. “Yes, dear!”

Jaehee cackled from behind a bush. “Daddys in troubleeee!”

Yeji just shook her head with the smallest smile, the way a woman does when she’s so tired but so full of love she could burst.

Off to the right, the world’s most annoying duo was arguing. Again.

“I’m telling you Jake, if you don’t preorder the tickets, we’re gonna end up in the nosebleeds like peasants,” Ni-ki barked, pointing a spatula at Jake like it was a sword.

Jake, ever the golden retriever soul, held up his phone. “It’s literally floor seats, dumbass!”

Ni-ki stepped closer. “Did you even check the date?!”

They were chest to chest, vibrating with chaotic energy and still holding their beers like responsible adults, until Lia, Jungwon's assistant passed behind them muttering “manchildren” and kept walking.

Heeseung was sprawled on a blanket under the large umbrella with Sunoo, but only one of them was relaxed.

“IIIIII’m so in looooove with her, she makes me feel so fineee,” Heeseung belted loudly and terribly, swaying like he was on stage. “WOOOOOO-”

“..Please shut up,” Sunoo deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m serenading you,” Heeseung declared with pride.

“You sound like a dying raccoon.”

Airi laughed to herself, sipping her lemonade and spotting Minami tucked away with her longtime boyfriend, both crouched beside their seven year old son sneaking extra fries from the snack table and pretending not to. Minami winked at Airi when she caught her eye.

At the grill stood Jay and Sunghoon, tongs in one hand, beers in the other, laughter bouncing between them like a tennis match.

Jay looked like he belonged in a GQ spread, sunglasses perched on his perfect nose, shirt slightly unbuttoned, tan skin glinting from the sun. His voice carried easily as he told some story Airi couldn’t hear from her distance, but she could see Sunghoon grinning, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his friend was real.

That grin, it did things to her. Made her feel seventeen and breathless again.

Her boyfriend, her doctor, her best friend, her quiet haven in a loud, wild world.

Sunghoon turned to look at her like he could sense her watching. Of course he could. His eyes softened, and the moment they locked gazes, it was just them.

Even from across the yard, she could feel it.

It had always been like this.

Eventually, everyone gathered around the long circle of outdoor picnic tables, plates full, drinks topped off, bodies pressed close, conversations overlapping in a symphony of love.

Heeseung was mid story about how he forgot his entire script on set and just started speaking English until the director called cut, when someone shrieked. 

“How many babies?!” Jaehee yelled from the middle of the circle, her cheeks full of watermelon as she pointed a very sticky finger at her mother.

Everyone went silent.

Yeji blinked.

“…Two,” she said slowly, placing a gentle hand on her belly. “Twins, sweetheart.”

A collective gasp sounded across the group. Cheers, applause, Sunoo dramatically screamed something about cosmic balance.

Then all eyes turned to Airi. Who blinked confused with a mouth full of food. She swallowed before speaking.  “…Me?”

Jaehee nodded solemnly like this was a sacred ritual. “Yeah. How many babies are you having? I want three, so you need one too. Or three.”

Airi choked. “I..I don’t know yet, kid.”

And without missing a beat. “YAY!” Jaehee screamed, hopping in place. “I’M GETTING MY TRIPLETS!”

Laughter exploded around the circle as Airi sputtered. “No I didn’t say that..I’m…Sunghoon help-”

But Sunghoon was just chuckling behind her, sliding his arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his side like she was home. His chin dropped to her head, lips pressing lightly into her hair as he said softly for only her to hear, “She’s not wrong.”

“Don’t you start,” Airi muttered, even as her hand curled over his where it rested on her belly.

The night fell slowly, stars blinking into place above them, and stories flowed like wine.

And somewhere between the laughter and the soft strums of a guitar someone had pulled out, Airi leaned into Sunghoon’s side, eyes closed, a smile etched into her soul, and thought this right here this is everything.

His red petals blew ever so slightly in the breeze of the air conditioning just above.

The glint of a half ragged, microphone-headed man in his ill fitted suit shone in the reflection of the sunglass lenses.

It was an image that the microphone tried not to notice, as the realization of how tired and frazzled he looked made him feel like a sick prey animal in the middle of an open field.

Jammed in a monochrome room with a high profile individual who had a hell of a reputation, along with his very stern assistant who had one of his own- it left a hanging chill in the air for Mic.

Mic tapped his foot, his hands gripping the suit fabric around his knees while Thorn has finished summarizing the situation as Mic had explained it. Then the assistant- Mr. Flower, chimed in to finish it all off.

"…And the only reason there were claims of you… "whoring out your own sister" is because your religious zealot of a mother happens to think the entire entertainment business is a product of the devil?" He said, deadpan as he hovered behind the couch Thorn sat in, clipboard in hand and an eyebrow quirked.

Mic nodded, tense,

"Ah yeah, that about sums it up…" He said, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees as he seemed thoughtful yet frantic.

"Defamation of character aside here, I'm at the end a my rope. We've been meetin' nothin' but dead end after dead end, and I-… I just…" The microphone headed man took a sigh, as if to calm himself before he continued on. "Listen, I know it's cut throat out there and I'm under no illusions that there aren't a lot of shady people in the business who are gonna ask for more than what the fine print will tell you." He began, his tone shifting slightly, "but I would never- and I mean NEVER do any of those things my mother has claimed." Mic assured, his voice becoming much steadier and firm as he went on.

Mic paused for a moment, reaching for the glass of water on the table to take a long gulp of before setting it back down.

He wasn't sure what sort of things were going on in Thorn's mind- if he accepted Mic's story or not. It was the truth of course.

He had been struggling for months now to get his sister into the acting scene like she had dreamed of since she was a kid, but there was always something getting in the way. Sleazy director's who couldn't keep their hands to themselves, Hollywood bigshots who would steal the role last minute or some nepo baby who's daddy owned an agency.

It was starting to become hopeless and Mic hated seeing his sister so down in the dumps about it. She had what it took and that wasn't just Mic being the doting big brother he was. His sister was genuinely talented! The problem was finding the right people to give her a chance.

If nothing else, Thorn must at least sense how desperate Mic was, and yet, as Mic thought back on all the rumours he'd heard of Thorn, coupled with his own experiences with the man, Mic really wondered if showing any sort of desperation around the monster was a good idea at all.

Mic seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he grappled with the words he wanted to bring before Thorn.

He didn't really have much of a choice in the matter at the end of it all.

He didn't exactly come to Thorn expecting to get out of it all unscathed, but knowing that he didn't know what to expect was almost worse.

Mic sighed and watched as Thorn leaned forward, putting the last of his cigarette out on the ashtray at the centre of the coffee table. "Look" Mic started again, "I've always been a family first kind of guy. I take care of them, I take care of my friends. But there's only so much I can do. So I-… I…"

There was a pause as the man seemed to struggle to find his words, all the while Thorn dug into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve another cigarette from the box inside.

The sounds of Mr. Flower scribbling notes onto his clipboard filled the cold office air, along with the flick of Thorn's lighter as he lit himself another smoke. Then he leaned in, ready to address his client.

"…And that's why you came to me, I get it." Thorn said, taking a drag of his cig while the smoke poured from the corners of his mouth, "Though I'm a little hurt that I was your last resort and not your first call, Mic." The man said, a slight smirk as he spoke. A sentiment that seemed to make the microphone squirm a little.

He loosened the collar of his shirt.

"Ah- well, ya know, it wasn't like I didn't think of you first or nothin'" Mic laughed nervously- an attempt to cover the fact that he could feel his own voice getting caught in his throat. "I just- I know you're a busy guy and I know you do good work I just-"

"…Don't trust me?"

Another pause as Mic froze in place, watching those sharp, jagged teeth come slowly peaking out from a knowing grin.

Well shit, how does one steer the conversation out of this pit?

Mic was silent, but as Thorn casually chuckled, returning to a reclined position on the couch, Mic allowed himself a minute to breath.

Though it was more to brace himself for whatever was about to come.

"You know my price, Mic." Said Thorn, plainly. "And you know that whatever you ask of me, I can deliver." He went on, and Mic nodded. That much was true.

Thorn was the first guy to go to if someone was desperate for anything.

If you needed something, Thorn could get it. If you had a ladder to climb, competition to crush, Thorn had connections. If you were in any kind of tight situation, Thorn had the money to throw your way.

But there lied the rub to begin with.

You had to be desperate.

"Yeah, of course. And I'll pay anything!" Said Mic immediately without thinking and of course, immediately regretting his choice of words the moment they left his throat.

Mic's fists tightened around the cloth of his pants.

At that, he could see Thorn's smirk widen and Mic could swear the billowing smoke of Thorn's cigarette had almost enveloped the room while the temperature seemed to rise.

While Mic could not see what was going on in Thorn's eyes, there was definitely something in the quick glance that Mic had happen to catch from the quiet Mr. Flower. He was first and foremost, an observer though. Mr. Flower had always been as long as Mic knew him, so if there were was any sort of warning behind that glance, Mic would never know the full extent of it.

Not verbally. Not at this point.

"You know Mic, I'd like to think we're friends, yeah?" Thorn asked, not waiting for answer. He rolled his lit cigarette between his gloved fingers and Mic could have sworn he caught a flash of Thorn's wild spiral eyes from behind his darkened lenses. "Uh- sur-"

"And like you said, you take care of your friends, just the way I like to think I would too." He went on, taking a drag of his smoke before standing up.

Mic tensed, unsure of what to expect or how to respond to whatever was happening.

He watched as Thorn slowly stalked around the coffee table to approach the microphone creature, one hand buried in the pocket of his dress pants.

Thorn's various accessories faintly clacked and jingled as he walked, the rosary beads hanging from his wrist and hip, just barely poking out from beneath ebony cloth.

Mic always wondered about those…

"How about we make a deal?" Suggested Thorn, stopping just a few steps shy of Mic who was still sat and was made very uncomfortably aware of the sheer size difference between a monster of the void and your average void creature.

Despite trying to hide his nerves however, Mic's discomfort was betrayed by an audible gulp. But if Thorn noticed it, he made no attempts to show that he did. Not that he needed to.

Mic could hardly breath under the amount of smoke filling the room, and he could feel the sweat beginning to form across his body as he could swear the room was becoming very, very hot and stuffy. Like there was a fire raging in one of the nearby offices. Though if that were the case, surely the emergency sprinkler system would have gone off by now.

No, this was something else and it had Mic's limbs trembling long before the anxiety began to well up in his throat.

"I- uh, a deal?" He stammered, looking up at Thorn who's smirk widened.

He lifted his hand, directing Mic's attention towards the coffee table. A pristine, lengthy contract sitting there neatly printed with Mic's name at the top, beneath which was a mountain of text with little time for Mic to even glance at any of it.

Where had that even come from..?

"I'll set your sister up with her dream job just like you both wanted, and she won't have to pay a penny!" Thorn explained, the enthusiasm dripping from his words much the same way toxic sludge drips from the rim of a rusty drainage pipe.

If Mic had eyes, they would have certainly widened at that prospect- and if he had eyebrows, they definitely would have knitted together incredulously at this point.

"But…" Mic said, knowing there was more. He just wanted to know what.

Thorn's grin softened to a smile, but it was by no means any more comforting than the jagged grins Mic almost preferred at this point. And it didn't help matters at all hearing Mr. Flower writing down things at a much more consistent pace than he had ever been doing during the entire meeting.

"But!" Thorn began, "I do require recompense for my services- a sort of equivalent exchange. Doesn't have to be money, but… You know this." Thorn said with another widened grin and a shrug, all said with the tone of a man going through another routine Friday night. And as far as Mic understood, that is exactly what this was to Thorn, yet to Mic himself- as he stared at the suddenly appearing contract on the table in front of him, he couldn't help but feel… afraid.

Mic tried to think back to every previous sucker who he had brought to Thorn in the past and what had become of them.

Good gods, what had become of them? It had only now occurred to Mic that setting up a meeting for those previous clients was the last he'd ever personally heard from them, and while that wasn't entirely uncommon, he would think he'd have learned of what became of them through word of mouth. Especially when working under Thorn.

Mic felt like he was about sign onto something far bigger than what he had ever asked for. But his thoughts ran back to his sister, her tired form dragging herself up the ramshackle staircase of her shoddy apartment for the fifth time in a week while he went to check up on her.

The way she held back tears while filling her brother in on having just come back from another audition that had gone nowhere.

The sounds of her teary, drunken sobs still echoed in the back of his mind.

She was tired, far more tired than he ever was.

Mic bit his lip, surely their friendship meant a more promising outcome, yeah?

"What do I need to do?" Said Mic.

Much the same way the smoke in the room seemed to thicken, Thorn's grin deepened. There was some kind of flash behind those shades of his but Mic couldn't be arsed to dwell on it. The room was suffocating and he wondered how Mr. Flower could just stand there casually like he wasn't choking.

Mic was ready for this to be done so he could leave.

Did he not notice it? Was this just Mic's stressed and anxiety ridden mind just fucking with him?

As if Thorn had almost ready Mic's mind, the creature could hear a chuckle from the man. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, aside from a few special requests, anything you'll be doing for me won't be all that different from what you're used to." Thorn assured the creature, who attempted to stammer out a response but Thorn was quick to speak over him.

"Sign the contract, Mic and we'll get started. And don't worry, I'll take good care of you and your sister."

With that, Mr. Flower approached as well, wordlessly placing a pen next to the contract. He didn't even spare Mic a glance this time, just quietly took his place next to Thorn who stunted even Mr. Flower's height- and he himself was at least a good six feet tall.

With a moment of hesitation, Mic reached a shaky hand out to scribble his signature on the line at the bottom of the page. Not a moment after he finished, the contract lifted from the table, as if suddenly caught up in a violent breeze, almost disintegrating into a flash of flame and rose petals. Not a trace was left behind except for the pen, now covered in a thin layer of ash.

"Good. We'll get started next week. As for your sister, tell her to expect a call within the next few hours."

He exited the room, the sound of his heels thudding dully over the grey carpet while Mr. Flower followed suit.

The moment they were out of the room was when Mic could see them exchanging words, but the glass deafened Mic to anything that was being said between them.

The creature leaned back onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

What in the world did he get himself into?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If I get to continuing this ever, I really, really wanna do it from Mr. Flower's perspective.

I think his thoughts on stuff like this would be fun to draw from.

Plus i get to focus on him and Thorn. <333

my bbz

But i feel like I've done a lot of vague drawings of Thorn- mostly with Mr. Flower and with very little idea of who Thorn is and what he's like most of the time.

He's... kind of a different person when it's just him and Mr. Flower, and as much as I love that about him I also want to focus on you know, the rest of him?

This was just a small interaction that cropped up in my head that i meant to just jot notes down of and it turned into a whole thing.

So, if you read this thanks for making it this far. ; v;