Fue principalmente su largo y oscuro cabello lo que lo impulsó a cometer sus actos despiadados. Su parte favorita debía admitir, el olor que emanaba al soltarlo.
Una joven y hermosa mujer caminaba por el jardín de su pequeña ciudad, libre y despreocupada por la escuela, era de las mejores de su clase, lo sabía bien. Amable y gentil con todo quien posara mirada en ella, él no fue la excepción. Su prudente ropa hacía que fuera más interesante indagar en lo que pudiera ocultar bajo ésta.
Acechó a la dama todo el día desde su desayuno en el café local hasta su morada, que compartía con su familia, algo que no era nuevo para él. Sabía cosas de ella desde antes de comenzar su casería. Cómo todos los fines de semana, saldría a comer o divertirse con sus amigos y volvería temprano a casa sin una gota de alcohol en su sistema, ella no era del tipo de embriagarse; vería alguna película o serie hasta que fuera hora de irse a la cama y descansar, las lecturas espontáneas eran durante la mañana, por lo que visitas nocturnas de alguien más eran improbables. Lo sabía bien.
Confiaban demasiado en su pequeño retoño que no tenían necesidad en ir a revisar que estuviera en su habitación, tenían la certeza que así sería. Su increíble hija jamás haría nada para meterse en problemas.
Durante horas comprobó que sus suposiciones eran correctas, viendo cómo realizaba cada acción al pie de la letra sin faltar a ninguna. Incluso su familia era demasiado predecible, ventanas abiertas que facilitaban que cualquier curioso espiara tras ellas. El curioso era él, haciéndose pasar por transeúnte durante todo el día sin ser cuestionando por los vecinos.
¿Quién querría lastimar a esa familia? Padres amables y trabajadores, con tres hijas ejemplo en todos los aspectos. Bueno, solo una en verdad... La que bestia deseaba.
La bella era aún más despampanante sin ese maquillaje que usaba diariamente, con su piel limpia y pecosa para acariciar; pelo húmedo y oloroso tras la ducha que tomó; cuerpo expuesto con delicioso olor a crema de avena, su favorita. Una pierna se asomaba por la esquina de su cobija, invitando a acariciarla.
Más suave que en su imaginación
Con la navaja que ocultaba en el bolsillo dentro de la chaqueta negra, corta profundamente la delicada piel de la mano izquierda de bella, llenándola de sangre que brota. El dolor perturba su descanso de golpe, casi causando un infarto al ver tremenda figura santada en su sofá junto a la cama, ancha y vestida por completo de negro con una horrible máscara de Halloween y maquillaje negro que cubre cara, manos y cuello, el pelo queda también oculto en su interior. Habría pensado que todo fue una pesadilla si el dolor no fuera tan real y la colonia masculina inundara la habitación. El brillo que se escabullía entre la corrida cortina permite apreciar cada detalle de la máscara desgastada. Un personaje horrible con ojos diminutos.
Por impulso quiere gritar pero la mano le cubre la boca y posa la navaja cerca del cuello como amenaza. Ante el miedo y la impotencia, brotan a mares lágrimas. A un 'shhhh' le sigue retirar la mano de su boca, la bella no gritará, lo sabe. Pero la navaja se queda en sitio.
Aumenta la velocidad en que le corre la sangre verla tan indefensa y frágil bajo el puñal afiladísimo. Sumisión completa para él, ni una mirada retante a la autoridad que infringe a punta de cuchilla.
Acoge su temblorosa mano y guía a la palpitante erección bajo sus pantalones, la tela ejerce una presión alarmante, está muy apretado allá abajo.
Con calma corta la escasa ropa y panties que escogió para dormir esa fatídica noche, exponiendo un tembloroso cuerpo con la piel de gallina ante cada caricia que reparte; para su mejor acomodo, cambia a cuclillas a su lado y baja la navaja hasta su abdomen, haciendo una línea de corte superficial entre pecho y pecho hasta el ombligo.
Oculto en la sombra de su habitación, quita el pedazo de plástico que ocultaba su identidad, sus labios son libres para devorar la entrepierna frente a él. Lame cada pliegue carnoso y succiona los jugos que emanan del apretado sexo de la bella, come como si fuera un condenado a muerte disfrutando de su última comida, no deja escapar ni una gota de ella. Ante la desesperación y mezcla de placer inesperado, jala del cabello del desconocido, lo que la bestia malinterpreta a convenencia suya. Claro que iba a disfrutarlo, la experiencia de años le sustenta su magnífica capacidad de excitar a una mujer cuando ésta le corresponde.
A regañadientes viene el primer orgasmo de la noche al rededor de su lengua, el nudo en su vientre era insoportable otro segundo más, aguantarlo aumentó la intensidad de éste.
Mientras se recupera de la oleada de calor, el intruso se deshace de sus ropas sin perder detalle de la agitación que la hizo sentir. Un ego aún más grande que cuando decidió tomarla.
Aún oponiendo resistencia, se coloca entre sus piernas anchas. Queriendo escaparsele.
- Por favor... - Gira para verlo y se encuentra con la máscara en su lugar de nuevo - Por favor no, soy virgen. Por favor no me haga esto, haré lo que me pida con mis manos o boca, pero le suplico que no me haga esto. - Detiene toda lucha contra ella.
Todo parece mejorar cuando retira la pulsante erección de su entrada y retrocede en la cama, recoge su ropa del suelo como para irse, pero muy para su desgracia toma un condón extra delgado sellado del bolsillo. Las lágrimas y quejidos son incontenibles, teniendo que callarla con un corte adicional en la aureola del pecho.
Resignada a lo que viene, se traga la desgracia y lágrimas, relajando cada músculo no dañado de su cuerpo. 'Mientras menos tensión, menos dolor' había escuchado en sus clases de anatomía y las historias de sus amigas.
- No me lastime, por favor sea cuidadoso. Es lo último que le pido. -
Amaba el sonido de su chillona voz suplicándole. Lo que sea que haya dicho, amó oírlo en ese tono de voz.
La caliente punta de su miembro abre paso en sus entrañas donde la estira dolorosamente. Sin duda era su primer contacto sexual con un hombre. Hace caso a su petición, a final de cuentas ¿Cuántas oportunidades tendría de quitarle la virginidad a la mujer más hermosa que ha visto? Solo se puede una vez. Es lo menos que haría por bella.
Estar en su interior se siente como ser arrullado por un calor inminente y una capa de sus caricias en cada parte de su cuerpo, apretada y suave alrededor de él. Mejor que en cualquiera de sus fantasías donde la tomaba por detrás y tiraba de su cabello con salvajismo. Bueno, no se quedaría con las ganas de aferrarse a su sedoso cabello, no es como que no se lo permitiría estando a su merced y con ese filoso metal dejando marcas imborrables. Su fuerza al halar de su melena, hace salir involuntariamente quejidos.
Para sobrellevar la situación, se aferra a él en un abrazo, aceptando cada administración de placer que le dé. Porque muy para su pesar, existe un rastro de placer debajo de todo. Una fantasía vergonzosa cumplida; una que su moral no permite disfrutar al 100%. Eso le causa una pena inmensa, que incita aún más su llanto, una mezcla del dolor primerizo y placer que instiga la humillación.
Sin invitación hacia bestia, conecta sus labios y lenguas en un intercambio de saliva; el previo contacto con su coño dejó su sabor penetrado en la boca de bestia, ahora pasando a la boca de la bella con un toque del plástico barato de la máscara.
- Por favor disminuya, me está lastimando mucho. Más lento, por favor. - Susurra en su oído aplastada por su peso.
Complaciente, mengua su ritmo. Acercándose a su orgasmo por la profundidad que tiene en vez de velocidad.
En esta ronda no habrá orgasmo para ella, su mente divaga entre la sangre que aprecia escurrir de su palma y el ardor en su cuerpo por culpa del sudor frotándole las heridas. Sin mencionar el terrible miedo por la idea de ser asesinada tras la bestia llegue a su punto alto; coopera para complacerle y tal vez, solo tal vez, perdone su vida.
No ha visto su cara en toda la noche ni ha presentado atención a ningún signo que sirva para reconocerlo; no le interesa, solo quiere que de vaya y olvidar que esto pasó.
Sus gemidos le indican que está llegando, una mordida profunda en su cuello avisa que ha terminado. Merma sus gritos en el cabello sintético del monstruo que usa en la cabeza, sus pequeñas manitas aprietan el músculo de sus brazos y las piernas le envuelven los glúteos; como en un perfecto abrazo. Puede sentir más sangre abandonando su cuerpo y siendo succionada de sí.
Roba un último beso con la mitad inferior de su rostro expuesto, escupiendo un poco de la sangre en su boca. El peso de su abusador se quita de encima por fin.
Cuando todo parece terminado y ya la ha tapado con su cobija arrugada, la imagen de un puñal de mayor tamaño hace que la adrenalina vuelva a activar sus sistemas de alerta. Trata de arrastrarse lejos y huir ahora que no tiene el cuchillo tan cerca de ella pero en amenaza, señala con la punta la puerta que da paso a las demás habitaciones.
- No. - Es la primera y última palabra que le dirige antes de lento colocarse sobre ella.
Débil y aterrada, no hay nada que pueda hacer ante lo que sea que decida hacerle. Bella morirá bajo las garras de bestia.
- Hágalo rápido, que no duela. Es mi última petición. Tampoco lastime a mi familia, ya le dí todo lo que quería. -
Se lleva consigo más de la mitad de su cabello, dejándola con un estilo a la barbilla e irregular. Salta por su ventana y camina tranquilo hacia donde estacionó su auto horas atrás.
Cuando han pasado algunos minutos, bella grita a todo pulmón. Su familia apresurada entra a la habitación encontrándose con la viva imagen de una sobreviviente de película de terror, la sangre ha manchado piso y cama como escena slasher.
- Terminó, por fin terminó. -
Dejo a su criterio si debería continuar esto, o dejarlo como un simple drabble.
No sé si sea lo suficientemente bueno, pero estoy abierta a todo.
Pd. No tenía a nadie en mente cuando inicié a escribir, así que también sería de ayuda si me dicen sobre quién debería tratarse.
genre: love triangle, high school au, suggestive, eventual smut, angst, fluff
pairing: wooyoung x reader, yeosang x reader
word count: 17k
summary: while things progress between you and wooyoung, a forced partnership forms between you and yeosang.
ao3 link here.
You and Wooyoung were so different that a large part of you secretly believed that a relationship between the two of you would never work.
After all, who would have guessed that Jung Wooyoung--one of the biggest delinquents that has ever graced the halls of KQ High school--and Y/N--top of her class, intelligent to a fault, straight laced geek--would ever even look in each other's direction?
But despite your differences, despite the doubts that were cast, despite all of your pre-conceived assumptions about love and romance...
The first few weeks of dating Wooyoung were some of the happiest moments you had spent in a long time.
Because while you initially tried to shy away from your differences, you found that if anything, the differences between the two of you only made your relationship stronger. Where you lacked, Wooyoung flourished. What he needed, you had. Everything just seemed to work with him.
Like any teenage couple going through the honeymoon phase, the two of you spent almost all of your free time together. Whenever you could muster the courage to lie to your parents, you’d make up another study date or sleepover with Somi, when in reality you’d be in Wooyoung’s bedroom, doing anything under the sun---talking, making out, cooking new recipes, helping each other with homework, making out some more….
And what scared you was that you didn’t regret any of those seconds spent with him. Despite the mounting amount of school work you were trying to catch up on, your friends and family that demanded your attention, you couldn’t help that every inch and part of you was drawn to Wooyoung. You were falling fast, and there was nothing you could do to try and stop it.
But the reason why you rationalized the amount of time you were spending with Wooyoung was that both of you seemed to be becoming better people as a result of the relationship. Your work ethic seemed to be rubbing off on Wooyoung, who now seemed to be showing more initiative in his classwork due to your influence. This was a win win for both of you, as when Wooyoung’s mother noticed the uptick in grades, she became much more comfortable with your presence in her son's bedroom.
Similarly, Wooyoung’s traits began to rub off on you. You no longer tethered yourself to your academics at the expense of a social life. Wooyoung taught you that there were more things to life, things that you couldn’t limit yourself to because you were scared of disappointing your parents.
Like any relationship, there were trials and tribulations. Most notably, trying to get your friend groups to integrate seemed to be an impossible task, especially when both parties seemed to be committed to pointing out how much the two of you had changed since you started dating.
“Dude…” Changbin pointed an accusing finger at Wooyoung’s fork filled hand. “Did you paint your nails?”
Wooyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before nodding. “Yup. Y/N painted them for me.”
Wooyoung showed off his pink colored nails, waving them across the table for Changbin and San to see. “Do you like?”
Changbin, whose own nails were painted gothically black, just shrugged. “You’ve really changed, you know that?”
“You’re telling me.” added Somi, sitting at the end of the table and looking thoroughly uncomfortable with this seating arrangement. “Y/N’s been ditching me to skip class and make out with this asshole.”
You expected Changbin to condemn Somi for referring to his friend as an asshole, but to your entire table’s surprise, he agreed. “I swear, they date for three fucking seconds and think they’re Bonnie and Clyde.”
For the rest of lunch, Changbin and Somi began to bring up all of their transgressions with you and Wooyoung. And as embarrassing as it was, you didn’t interrupt, mostly because it was the first time you saw the two agreeing on anything.
(This was however very uncomfortable for San, who dated Somi briefly 3 or so years before, and found himself thoroughly incensed that Changbin was speaking so casually with his ex.)
“Hey, where’s Yeosang?” San interrupts, trying to find something else to talk about. “We had a project together and the little shit’s been ghosting me!”
Hearing Yeosang's name causes you to freeze up suddenly, ice cold guilt traveling throughout your body when you think of him.
Because ever since you and Wooyoung started dating, it's become more and more difficult to find Yeosang in the halls of KQ High School. He only showed up for lunch every blue moon, until little by little, he stopped coming entirely.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the friendship you had together, the jokes and the common interests that you couldn’t really talk to Wooyoung about. But naturally, as you continued to commit to Wooyoung, Yeosang began to fade further and further from your list of priorities.
“Don’t worry. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, Yeosang’s kind of a nerd.” explained Woooyung to a troubled San. “By the time he texts you, the whole project’ll be done.”
And because Wooyoung always seemed to have this nonchalant attitude about Yeosang’s behavior, you tried not to be concerned too.
Even when the voice in the back of your head told you he was avoiding you on purpose. That you had thrown him in the trash once you got in a relationship, ignored him despite him confiding in you the story about his--
“Y/N, are you good?” Wooyoung asks in your ear, arm coming to stroke your back as he notices the spaced out look on your face.
You smiled, assuring him that nothing is wrong. “I’m fine, just a little cold.”
Wooyoung instinctively takes his blazer off, wrapping it around your shoulders despite your frequent protests that he didn’t have to and that he was being dramatic. “There. That should help.”
“God, I think I’m gonna barf.” muttered Changbin, eliciting giggles from Somi and a frown from San.
The August and September chapters of the Wooyoung Y/N love story passed by with a breeze, quite literally, as the windy chill of fall season reared its ugly head. And while you were more than happy to continue investing all of your time into your relationship with Wooyoung, as the first quarter of school came to its conclusion, you were quickly reminded of the other priorities you were neglecting as a result.
Per tradition at KQ High School, on the first day of a new quarter, droves of students head to the front of the school where a bulletin board hangs from the brick wall. On any given day, the board will usually display mundane announcements pertaining to bathrooms that are broken down or updated emails of guidance counselors. But only at the beginning of each quarter will you find, “the list”: a piece of a piece of paper that displays the class ranks of each grade.
As you years have gone on, less and less people come to the bulletin board, realizing that their chances of moving up a rank are very small.
But today, when you head into the building a little later the usual, seemingly the entire student body is huddled in the front of the school, eyes glued to the ominous bulletin board.
When you push past the double doors and head straight to the front lobby, you’re greeted by the sounds of intelligible whispering from the students crowding the bulletin board. Gossiping is practically a form of currency at KQ, which is why the sound normally wouldn’t disturb you--but what does disturb you is the fact that as soon as you walk in, it’s as if almost all eyes are suddenly transfixed on your presence.
Ignoring the uncomfortable staring from your classmates, you inch closer to the front, having little trouble walking through the crowd as many seem to make room for you. When you finally reach the board and see the list smack dab in the middle, you realize why everyone seems so interested in your arrival.
No longer is your name written in the number one spot where it has laid for the past 3 years. Instead, your name sits uncomfortably at the number two spot, written in bold letters and sticking out like a sore thumb.
On the outside, you try to keep it together, knowing that the exact thing your classmates want is to see you breakdown over a rank.
But on the inside, you’re panicking. Since you were in ninth grade, you put your every effort and focus into being the number one ranked student. That meant modifying your schedule to take more classes that your peers, investigating the schedules of other top students to make sure they had no chance of beating you, and even calculating your GPA on a regular basis to make sure it stayed above the 4.0 range. There’s no one at this school who could have possibly done enough to take your spot.
Except for one.
“Excuse me, can I get through?”
Yeosang pushes past a few nosey freshmen, hitting a few with his bookbag in the process before finally making it to the front of the crowd. He stands next to you, scanning the list and muttering a triumphant “yes!” when he sees his name at the number one spot.
“First quarter at a new school and I’m already number one.” he says, too caught up in his own excitement to notice the angry expression that’s now building on your face. “Not too shabby, huh?”
You don’t know what comes over you when you grab Yeosang by the sleeve of his blazer, ignoring his confused shouts and the giggles of your entertained classmates.
“What are you doing?” he asks when you finally let go of his clothes, cornering him into a far off row of lockers.
“How did you do it?”
Yeosang looks at you incredulously, smoothing out the fabric of his jacket. “What, the ranks?”
“There’s no way you could have beaten me after only one quarter.” you accuse, unable to process how this could have happened and concluding that there must have been foul play involved. “Tell me how you did it.”
“I didn't do anything.” he insists, not sure if he should be offended or amused by your sudden anger. “I did my work and passed my classes just like anyone else here.”
Yeosang attempts to walk around you, but you catch his arm to hold him back. “You’re not just anyone else. You’re rich, which means you could’ve done god knows what just to get that rank!”
He rolls his eyes, rubbing his arm that you thoroughly squeezed. “Let me get this straight. I got a higher A than you and you think there’s some kind of conspiracy involved? Do you know how crazy you sound?”
“Do you think I don’t know the lengths you people go to get good grades?” you ask in a hushed voice, raising an accusatory finger in his direction. “I’ve seen it myself, Yeosang!”
“Clearly you’re convinced I’ve cheated, so why are we still having this conversation?” he points out rationally.
And despite how insane you know you sound, you also know you won’t be able to get over this until you see for yourself that Yeosang achieved the rank by himself.
“Show me your transcript.”
It’s an extremely bizarre demand but surprisingly, Yeosang complies, sliding his book bag to the front of his body and rummaging through it until he finds the crumpled piece of paper.
You snatch it from him before he can hand it over, scanning the paper in your greedy hands for anything that looks out of place.
But to your disappointment, everything checks out. Yeosang seemingly took a heaping amount of Advanced Placement classes at his old school, earning him extra points in almost all of his classes. The transcript is decorated with A’s, A pluses, 110s, 130s...
And despite the rational side of your brain knowing that you’ve been outsmarted, you slap the paper against his chest, continuing your assault of irrational accusations. “No way you got these kinds of grades on your own!”
Yeosang watches you freak out with a smug smile on his face. “Why don’t you just admit that you’re threatened by me? I worked just as hard as you did. Harder even, exemplified by the fact that I’m number one and you’re second place!”
“I’ll admit it when you admit that you cheated, Yeosang!”
“You know what? I’m not gonna just sit here and let you accuse me of cheating-”
Your exchange with Yeosang is interrupted when a deep voice clears their throat behind you. “Excuse me, young lady, young man.”
You turn around and almost shriek in fear because that’s the principal, Mr. Park, standing and watching you with a reproachful eye as you finish yelling at Yeosang.
“I--I--Principal Park, let me explain--”
“I have no interest in finding out whatever the two of you were just arguing about.” he says dimly, adjusting the tie on his perfectly fitted suit. “I do, however, need to speak to the both of you in my office.”
You and Yeosang now share a similar feeling of dread as you’re marched into the tall, intimidating Principal’s office, preparing yourself for the reprimand that is bound to come.
The office is almost the size of your kitchen, perks of being the Principal at a school with a sizeable affluent population. Principal Park gestures the two of you to sit on two plush velvet seats across from his desk, forcing you to look him in his eye despite how nervous you already feel.
But to your surprise and absolute luck, you find out within the first 5 minutes of the visit that neither of you are in trouble.
“As the two of you may know, every year, the Valedictorian and Salutatorian of the school are required to participate in our mentoring program.”
You sigh in relief, familiar with the program and happy to hear you’re not being punished. But Yeosang, completely new to the school, looks at the two of you in confusion.
“Mentoring program?” he asks. “What’s that?”
“Every year, the top two students at KQ High School must mentor a group of students from our feeder middle schools, as well as the underclassmen that attend here.” the principal explains. “This program will occur daily for the next two weeks.”
Yeosang scoffs, speaking with an air of arrogance in his voice. “No offense, Mr. Park, but I have more important things to worry about than a few freshmen.”
“Student leadership is very important here at KQ High School, Mr. Kang.” replied Mr. Park swiftly. “This program is a requirement to graduate for every Valedictorian that has graced this school.”
Before either of you could make any objections, the bell rang and Principal Park was ushering the two of you to class. “The program will begin next week and will end close to Halloween. Do I make myself clear?”
“Next week?” you both repeat at the same time.
“But sir, with college applications, scholarships, community service hours...how are we supposed to plan a two week program in less than 5 days?” you ask frantically.
Principal Park gives the two of you an encouraging yet dismissive smile. “You two are the top two students at this school, Ms. Y/N. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
With confusion still left in the air and many questions left unsaid, the Principal hands the two of you a pass, releasing you both.
And despite all of the logistics that need to be sorted out, things that need to be planned--when you and Yeosang exit the office, you don't say a word to each other and walk in completely separate directions.
When you’re tasked with the planning of the mentoring program the next day, there’s a queasy dread pulling in your chest at the thought of working with Yeosang again. Even if you hadn’t just accused him of a crime, you also had not spoken more than a few words to each other since you started dating Wooyoung.
You spend the majority of your day trying to find him, a task that is close to impossible when he avoids the most common student hangouts like the courtyard or lunchroom. At the end of the day when you’re finally ready to accept that you may have to proceed without him, you’re informed by a sticky note slid into your locker that Yeosang wants to meet in the library to discuss plans for the program. You might have thought it was a prank had you not recognized the masculine scrawl of his handwriting, reading so much of his writing over the summer that the the letters were unmistakable. Nervous and unsure what to expect, you head to the library immediately after finding the note.
After finding the front of the library empty and searching the rows of bookshelves, you finally find Yeosang hidden in the far back, head tucked behind his laptop as he types away at the keyboard. Before you can come up with an appropriate way to greet him he notices you coming over, moving his laptop to the side to look at you fully.
“I see you got my note.” he says plainly, fiddling with a silver watch that sits on his wrist.
You slide into a chair directly across from him, slinging your bookbag onto the table with a slight thud. “Yep.”
You immediately feel awkward as you shuffle in your seat, waiting for Yeosang to introduce his plans for this meeting. Ultimately you’re forced to speak first, uncomfortable with the growing silence that comes over the two of you.
“So. Me and you. Mentors.” you point out obviously, not knowing what else to say. “Cool, huh?”
Yeosang runs a hand through his parted hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be doing this with someone else.”
You raise an eyebrow at the sudden self-deprecating comment. “Why would I want to do this with someone else?”
He looks up at you, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he recalls the last time he interacted with you. “Am I remembering things incorrectly, or did you yell at me for stealing your rank less than 24 hours ago?”
Your cheeks go warm as you remember your embarrassing outburst. “Look. I’m sorry for the way I acted. As much as I don’t want to admit it…” you swallow, annoyed that you’ve found yourself in a position where you have to grovel for Yeosang’s forgiveness.
Yeosang leans forward, putting a hand behind his ear. “Say that again? I don’t think I heard you correctly the first time.”
You roll your eyes as you register the sarcasm in his voice. “I said, you beat me fair and square. Can you accept my apology?”
He reclines back in his seat with a smug smile. “Keep telling me how smart I am, and maybe I will.”
Resisting the urge to aim a book at his chest, you sigh. “This is hard for me, you know? I’ve never been lower than number one in my life.”
The statement comes out more pretentious than intended, which is why you don’t stop Yeosang when he laughs at you. “Keep working hard and you can be like me when you grow up, okay Y/N?” he jokes, reaching over the table to pat you softly on the shoulder.
And as much as you hate being on the receiving end of his jokes, it feels good to laugh and joke around with him again after not speaking to each other for months. It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to get back in the groove of your lighthearted, joking banter.
“Enough apologizing, you’re boring me.” says Yeosang, pulling his laptop back into his lap. “Let’s discuss being mentors, or whatever the fuck we’re supposed to be doing here.”
You spend the rest of your afternoon in the library, trying to keep down your laughter while the Librarian hovers around with a reproachful eye. The whole exchange reminds you of all of those nights in Yeosang’s small office, going over his thoughts for activities and bouncing various ideas of each other. You’re having so much fun that you’re completely unbeknownst to the several missed text messages from Wooyoung that cause your phone to buzz every 20 or so minutes.
Yeosang drives you home that day, and the day after that, and the rest of the week. When you arrive at school the following Monday, you run into each other again when he’s standing at your familiar spot atop the stairs with two cups of coffee in his hands.
“You’re gonna get me a spot on ‘My Strange Addiction’ if you keep buying me these,” you scold him despite your very eager hand that grabs the coffee straight from the carton before you can finish your sentence.
He shrugs, smiling as he takes a sip of his own cup. “Just trying to keep you sharp for the start of the program today.”
“Are you ready to meet all of the kids?” you ask, hoping that he’ll share your feelings of anticipation and nervousness.
“Ready, but a little nervous.” he answers simply, sounding cool and confident in his words. “I was going over the agenda last night, and I think that--”
“Y/N, there you are!”
You and Yeosang turn around, not shocked to see that the owner of the voice is none other than Jung Wooyoung. You watch him sprint up the steps, slightly surprised to see him at school on time.
“Hey, Woo.” you greet, holding your arms open for a hug as you wait for him to make his way up the steps. The whole scene, the way your face lights up, the way you call him ‘Woo’ so casually, makes Yeosang twinge with bitterness.
Wooyoung gets the top of the steps and snakes an arm around your torso, pulling you into a unassuming hug. You pull away rather quickly, not wanting to be excessive when Yeosang is standing right there. But Wooyoung seems to have other plans, grabbing you by your jaw and planting a quick but wet kiss on the front of your lips.
Wooyoung turns to Yeosang immediately after, nodding in his direction and oblivious to the stunned expression on your face. “Sup, Yeosang.”
Yeosang opens his mouth to say something back but Wooyoung then turns to you, effectively making Yeosang feel like a ghost. But that’s always how he feels when the two of you together, as if he could walk away and no one would notice.
“I texted you all last week.” Wooyoung says to you in a sulking manner, brushing a hair off of your forehead that would be normal in any other context but feels forced now. “I thought you were gonna come over?”
You smile uncomfortably, nodding to Yeosang. “I've been with Yeosang. The Principal is making us do this mentorship thing afterschool for the next 2 weeks."
“Yup.” confirms Yeosang, bouncing on his feet awkwardly and feeling more and more invisible as he watches the two of you talk to one another.
Wooyoung finally seems to acknowledge Yeosang’s presence, hitting him on the shoulder playfully. “Hey man, don’t go ghost on us. We should all hang out together sometime soon.”
“I think I’m good on that, Woo.” he teases, saying the nickname in a girlish voice as if to mock you.
“Well why not?” asks Wooyoung, sounding genuinely upset that his best friend is rebuffing him. “Everyone is always asking about you. Where’s Yeosang, what’s going on with Yeosang--”
“The usual stuff, man.” replies Yeosang, using the excuse he uses on anyone who requires his time these days. “Colleges, scholarships, the works.”
Yeosang turns to see the double doors of the building finally opening, sighing in relief as if he’d been saved by the bell. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”
And with that, Yeosang walks away without another word.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that he said bye to you, and not me?” observes Wooyoung, arm slung casually across your shoulders.
“You wanna know what I think is weird?” you ask, twisting his arm off of your shoulder and placing it safely by his side. “I didn’t know we did that now.”
“Kiss? In front of all of these people?” you gesture towards the students that are now entering the building in droves. Because while you weren’t making any concerted effort to hide your relationship, you did enjoy the privacy that came with no one at the school knowing your business.
“Nobody’s looking at us, baby.” he assures you, pointing out all of the people who are preoccupied in conversation or on their phone, but it doesn’t seem to placate the frown that’s now covering your face.
“If you want me to stop, I will.” he promises, reaching out to hold your hand once he sees most of the students gone.
And because you think there’s worse things to make a fuss about that aren’t having your boyfriend kiss you, you don’t object. “Kiss me all you want. Just don’t start getting all clingy or you’ll gross me out.”
He’d be offended had he not come to recognize the joking tone in your voice, laughing along with you side by side with you as you head to class. “You’re so cool. I can’t help wanting to kiss you.”
You let Wooyoung kiss you one last time before dropping you off at class, shouting mantras of “good luck on your program thingy!” down the hallway before walking off.
When you arrive at the library afterschool, it’s filled with the resounding chit-chat of 6th to 10th graders, all of which goes silent when you and Yeosang take the front of the room.
“Hi, my name is Y/N, and I’m the Salutatorian here at KQ High School. it’s nice to meet you all.” you wave at the students who watch you attentively but cautiously from their seats.
“Are you smart?” asks a small, freckle covered kid that looks no older than 12 from the front of the room.
Taken aback by the sudden interruption, you giggle awkwardly. “I’m okay, I guess.”
And when the kids in the front seem to find your answer quite hilarious, Yeosang interrupts, deep voice booming over all of the side chatter. “Don’t get confused by her humility. Y/N is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”
You and Yeosang lock eyes for a second and you smile at him gratefully. The gaze is broken almost immediately when you hear the sound of a few “oooohhhh”s coming from the back of the room.
The rest of the afternoon is full of moments like that, moments in which Yeosang has to save you because he’s much better at dealing with kids than you are. He practically leads the entire session, channeling the camp counselor energy you remember so distinctly when you first met him. He helps you so many times that when you’re sitting with a group of girls, helping them design their own planners, one of the girls stops to whisper to you, “He’s got the hots for you, I think.”
You brush off the comment with light laughter, assuring the younger girl that you and Yeosang are just friends. But none of the other girls seem to be convinced, especially when he frequently comes over to your table, leaning over your shoulder and asking if you need any extra help.
But luckily, as the week goes on you get better and more comfortable in your leadership position after watching Yeosang. He’s insanely good at dealing with kids, taking the time to answer all of their stupid questions and lending a helping hand with their homework assignments without getting frustrated.
You express this gratitude to him at the end of the week, as the 4th session of the program comes to an end. “Honestly, I didn’t know if we were gonna work well together.” you admit, remembering how cold things were at the beginning. “But I’ve gotta say, you’re not bad with the kids.”
“Not bad. I’ll take it.” he replies with a slight smile, spreading out a piece of poster board over the wooden table.
You grab your stuff, waiting for Yeosang to follow you out of the door. The light inside has now gone dark, and all of the kids have been picked up by their parents. Now would normally be the time when you and Yeosang would leave, but for some reason, he remains glued to his seat.
“What time are you leaving?” you ask, glancing at the time on your phone.
“I think I’m gonna stay late.” he explains, reaching over to grab a pack of markers. “One of the boys I’m working with has synesthesia, so I thought I could plan something around that.”
You hum, finding it quite admirable how much time he seems to invest in the kids. But you otherwise don’t respond, walking around the library aimlessly as you wait for your ride to arrive.
“Do you want to stay behind?” asks Yeosang, watching you stand there idly and noticing you’re in no rush to leave. “We could get a head start on some stuff for Monday?”
You sigh, feeling a little bit bashful as you inform Yeosang of your afternoon plans. “I was supposed to meet up with Wooyoung tonight, actually.”
Since the start of the quarter, you and Wooyoung had practically zero time to spend together. Even without the mentorship sapping up your afterschool hours, you also had a renewed sense of focus caused by your #2 rank, making you more busy with schoolwork than ever before. But you promised that you’d see a movie with him today, getting some much needed alone time that you both had been longing for.
Yeosang nods, trying not to look as disappointed as he feels. “Sorry, shouldn’t have asked. Go, have fun.”
You check your phone, looking to see if Wooyoung is on the way yet. But when you see no new messages from him, you figure there’s no harm in dawdling around a little before he shows up. It’s why you put your bag down, sliding in the chair next to Yeosang. “At least show me what you’re working on.”
Biting back a smile from the way you seem genuinely interested in what he’s doing, Yeosang slides his phone in your direction, showing you a study guide he found online.
“I’m gonna make a board for each color, see?” he leans over your shoulder, poking at the phone screen to show you what he’s talking about. “I’m gonna make it all fancy, and hang it up.”
“And then, I’m gonna buy a bunch of math supplies and see if he associates them with a certain color. I thought it might help him relate to the subject more, you know?”
You turn to face him, surprised by how close his face is to yours. “Yeosang, this is gonna take you forever.” you state, sounding both impressed and surprised.
“It’s fine.” he assures, backing up from you and grabbing the phone from your hand. “I’m just gonna stay here until they kick me out. I’ll work on the weekend if I have to.”
Without another word he gets to work, grabbing a purple colored marker and drawing various purple colored objects all over the board.
“What color do you get when you see me?”
Yeosang looks up at you, bemused by the sudden question. “I don’t have synesthesia, Y/N, the kid does--”
“I know.” you interject, joining him as you grab a purple color pencil and doodle over the board. “I was just wondering if you associate a color with me, that’s all.”
He gets quiet, and for a second you think he’s ignoring you, when in reality he’s thinking.
“Silver.” he blurts out finally after thinking for more than 60 seconds. “Shiny, oftentimes sticking out in a room full of rusty browns. Mechanical, like I can hear your mind moving every time you speak.”
“And reflective, like I want to...see myself through your eyes, if that makes sense.” he adds lastly. “That’s why you’re silver.”
If he wasn’t so focused on the poster board, he might’ve noticed the flattered embarrassment that was now flooding your face, touched by the sweet comments but also feeling incredibly hyper-analyzed by his creepily spot on interpretation of your personality.
You pause for a few moments, trying to think of an equally good sounding color. Finally, the one you land on is, “White. It’s a super classic, refined color. Goes well with everything. But it’s also what we used to cover things up, like white-out, you know? Even though it looks regular on the outside, you know there’s something hidden underneath.”
When you finish speaking you look up to see Yeosang shaking his head. “You make me sound more interesting than I am.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” you jest, poking him in the arm with a marker. “That’s why you’re shaking your head!”
“Whatever.” he mutters, feeling similarly embarrassed to hear how you think of him so plainly.
When it’s silent again, you’re reminded that you have somewhere you're supposed to be tonight. You look over at your bag sitting on the ground, deliberating on if you should go outside to wait for Wooyoung to arrive. But then you look back at the table, and when you see all of the work that’s still left for Yeosang to do, you feel almost an obligation to stay here and help.
“You know what? I’m just gonna stay tonight.” you announce, grabbing a hold of your colored pencil once more.
Yeosang’s eyes widen in surprise. “What about your date? Don’t miss it for me.”
But you shake your head, assuring him that it’s fine. “We’ll finish this a lot faster if we do it together. Wooyoung will get over it.”
Yeosang feels bad about how happy he feels to know you’ll be staying with him tonight.
“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna call him so he knows not to pick me up.” you inform Yeosang as you walk outside into the hallway with your phone smushed between your ear and shoulder.
“Woo, please don’t be mad, but I need to cancel our date for tonight.”
You bite your lip anxiously as you pace around in the empty hallway, feeling guilty because you know how much he's been looking forward to this.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice as he puts down the cologne bottle in his hands.
“Yeah.” you sigh sadly. “There’s just some extra work I need to do for the mentor thing before next week, and it’s taking longer than expected.”
Wooyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t frustrated--you’ve ditched him this whole week and last over this mentorship thing that he knows little to nothing about---but he also recognizes that you wouldn’t be investing this much time in it if it wasn’t important to you.
But all of that compassion seems to go out of the window when he remembers who you’re doing the program with.
Suddenly all of those nasty insecure emotions threaten to make their way out of his mouth again. He knows he trust you, and he thinks he trusts Yeosang--a thought that he finds kind of pathetic considering the length of time he’s known the two of you---but it still doesn’t change his racing thoughts, thoughts of you leaning over the desk as you laugh at one of Yeosang’s corny jokes…
“Is Yeosang there with you?” he asks, trying to sound casual and not let his fleeting thoughts of jealousy control the way he speaks to you.
“Yep. He’s probably gonna drive me home, if that’s what you worried about.”
Your comment makes Wooyoung feel like shit, knowing that he wasn’t even thinking about how you’d get home because he was too preoccupied with stupid thoughts of Yeosang.
You have nothing to worry about, the tells himself, suddenly realizing how stupid his thoughts are. Yeosang’s your best friend, and Y/N loves you.
Comforted by these thoughts, he reels himself in. “Good. Have fun, baby. And don’t get home too late.”
“I won’t, Woo.” you assure, smiling at the 'baby'. “Good night.”
“Good night, Y/N."
You hang up the phone, strolling back into the library where Yeosang has now moved on to the color yellow. And in the limited time you have before the school closes, the two of you work together to finish up the boards with lots of laughter in between.
Over the weekend, Wooyoung makes it painfully clear with his several calls and text messages to your phone that he’s eager to make up for lost time. He’s always been persistent when it comes to the things that he wants, but you didn’t think he would be this unrelenting with his pleas for you to visit him on Saturday.
“Wooyoung, it’s 40% of my grade.” you remind him for the upteenth time, because your Psychology class has been grueling enough, and you know that you desperately need to study for your test this weekend. “I have to study.”
And despite your attempts to sound stern, your resolve weakens the more you hear him beg. Truthfully, you want to see him just as much as he wants to see you. And you think he can read your conflicting thoughts over the phone, which is why he refuses to give up despite your repeated refusals.
“Then let’s study together.” he implores, using the same excuse he’s been using for the past 20 minutes. “You know what they say? Two heads are better than one!”
When you finally relent to coming over, you realize pretty quickly why you wanted and didn’t want to come over in the first place. Because focus is a long-lost concept when Wooyoung looks as good as he does in his casual clothes, hair drawn back with a headband and grey sweatpants emphasizing all of the things you wish you weren’t so crazy about. Studying is a foregin word when his hands constantly find themselves touching places on your body where your skin gets especially hot. Tests are rendered insignificant when you quickly find yourselves in a familiar routine that involves shared spit and rolled hips as you press yourself onto his lap.
“Fuck, stay still.” he begs weakly when you grind yourself against him, a habit that’s completely unconscious on your part but also extremely gratifying when he reacts like that.
“Why?” you ask innocently with a bat of your eyelashes, even though his hard-on that presses underneath you makes the answer to that question glaringly clear.
His punishment is more of a reward if anything, which is why you chase it consistently with your bratty comments and feigned innocence. You don’t even know how much power you have over him, how much he has to fight his desire to bend you over anytime you play this little act of yours. But for now, until you’re ready, he’ll hold himself together and reserve your playful coyness in his imagination for when he’s alone.
“God, you’re so good.” he praises as his hand slithers from your ass, up your spine, over your neck, and up to trace the outlines of your face. “My perfect girl.”
You’ve always found it fascinating how he can be so dominant and teasing one second and introspective and affectionate in the next. His quiet moments are your favorite, because when you watch him stare at you with those hooded eyes full of want and repressed desire while his hands softly stroke your face like you’re a fragile object, you wonder how you managed to turn Jung Wooyoung into a lover boy.
Just the power that the thought gives you makes you lean in for another kiss, a kiss that he blocks with the clicking of his tongue and the jerking of his head.
“What’s the magic word?” he taunts lowly as his thumb teases the entrance of your mouth.
You can tell by the way his eyes follow your lips and his finger traces your bottom lip that he wants your mouth on his just as much as you do. But he savors the moment, because now is the only time that he can get you to submit to him. And he likes having that power, the ability to make you melt like putty whenever he likes.
You just barely wrap your lips around the lip of his thumb, hoping that it’ll substitute the verbal response you know that he wants. But even with the low groan that leave his mouth at your obedience, he’s disciplined, and won’t do anything until you say what he wants to hear.
“Nuh uh, pretty girl” he chides as he retracts his thumb from your mouth. “Need you to say it.”
In any other context you’d roll your eyes, but right now you’d say just about anything to get his lips back on yours right now. And it’s funny and even a little bit pathetic that you’re only begging for a kiss right now. You can only just imagine how much more dumb you’ll get when you’re ready for any of this to go further than some dry humping and tongue kissing.
He hums in satisfaction and instead of praising you verbally he leans in and suckles on your bottom lip, letting it go with a soft smack. You look down at him with wide eyes, speechless but also incredibly turned on by the action. Without a word, your lips are immediately connecting again, tongues smoothing against each other as he continues his exploration of your mouth.
After a repeated routine of this you both pull away for air, but this time, his lips find your neck, pulling your hair back and sucking on a spot underneath your ear that has you whimpering.
“I can’t...get hickies…” you tell him with absolutely no conviction, which is why you can’t blame him when he ignores you, laying a lick across the spot before suctioning his lips around it again.
You just barely are able to get back to your house that day without your mother seeing your now rose decorated neck, thanks to the Beats headphones that wrap around your neck providing the perfect covering.
But the disguise doesn’t work at school, where the foundation you borrowed from Somi makes absolutely no dent in Wooyoung’s work.
“Is he a vampire, or something?” Somi asks when she catches you at your locker early on Monday morning. Changbin stands next to her, seemingly having become a friend of Somi's in the past few weeks.
“I think he tried to eat her.” Changbin adds for good, embarrassing measure, investigating your neck with mild interest.
“Shut up.” you reply, staring at your locker mirror with narrowed eyes as you attempt to conceal the marks with the collar of our blazer and your hair to no avail.
Yeosang is the first person you see that day who doesn’t say anything in regards to the hickies when he sees you. He’s colder than normal though, an act you chalk up to tiredness when he tells you that he stayed up the night before to finish some assignments.
At your request, Wooyoung lays off with the PDA, although he does repeatedly mention how much he can’t wait for the end of the mentorship, teasing that “they’ll be more where that came from,” the next time he gets his hands on you.
And luckily, he doesn’t have to wait too long because the week goes by rather quickly and the last day of the mentorship approaches on Friday.
You’re thankful that Yeosang takes the lead in planning, because you don’t think there's anything you could conjure up that could top his social and financial connections, connections that he leverages wisley to invite a pop singer to speak to the younger kids. That leaves you the sole responsibility of handling the food, but even then Yeosang doesn’t allow you to think about reaching for your wallet before swiping his own black card to pay for the few dozen pizza boxes that arrive at the start of the meeting.
Yeosang takes you outside and briefly introduces you to Hongjoong, the pop star he's invited for the kids. You don’t really keep up with what’s on the radio these days, but judging by the flashy brand names that cover his clothes, you assume he must be doing pretty well for himself. You’re not allowed to linger in his tour bus for too long, because you and Yeosang need to get to the library where the kids are anxiously waiting for your arrival.
“Let’s go over the plan again.” you say to Yeosang as you walk side by side through the quiet hallways.
“Okay. We’ll start off with the food and music, me and you will say a few words of farewell, Hongjoong will come in through the....” he stops, looking over to you for the rest of his sentence. “Sorry, I’m blanking.
“The back door.” you finish for him. “Then, he’ll say his speech, we'll take pictures, and boom. It’s over.”
Yeosang looks over at you with a slight grin. “See? This is why we’re partners.”
You find yourself turning bashful at the praise. “Whatever. Don’t mention it.”
“Why not?” he asks, lips turning upward into a smirk as he bumps you into the wall with his shoulder. “I’m not the only person that’s noticed we make a good team.”
“Oh, really?” you ask with mock disbelief. “Who else?”
He nods to the library up ahead. “The kids. They think, that you and I look good together.”
“A few of them also think that aliens are real, so I wouldn’t really trust their--”
“Yeosang? Is that you!”
The sound of a new voice causes both you and Yeosang to whip your heads to the right, where a short, pink haired girl comes strolling down the hallway with a tiny handbag swinging by her side. She looks like she could be about 10 different people that you’ve walked past at this school, and with no name coming to mind, you look over to Yeosang to see how he’ll react.
If there was any amusement on his face before, it’s all been drained the moment that the new girl comes walking over to him. He groans just at the sight of her, and when he starts moving his legs again you have to speed walk to keep pace.
But the strange girl is persistent. She jogs alongside the two of you, either blissfully unaware of Yeosang’s distaste for her presence or choosing to ignore it.
“You haven’t texted me back in two weeks, lover boy.” she says, her voice chipper and high pitched as she speaks directly to him and ignores you. “What’s up with you?”
“Not now, Rose.” he dismisses easily, like swiping a fly out of his face. “I’m in the middle of something.”
As you struggle to keep up with the two of them, you feel a lot like you’ve walked into a conversation you weren’t supposed to, with him refusing to introduce her and her refusing to introduce herself to you.
“In the middle of something? With her?” she asks, acknowledging your presence for the first time. You give her an obligatory polite wave but she ignores it, clearly determining her intentions to speak about you but not to you.
You can see Yeosang’s jaw twitch and his eyes roll dramatically every time she opens her mouth. You’d love to interject and ask what’s happening right now, but you’ve got an itching suspicion that you wouldn’t want to know what this is even if you could.
“God, Rose, could we just walk about this later!?” he snaps, waving her away like she’s a dog.
She humphs, but still obeys his dismissal. “Fine. You know where to find me.”
You turn around to watch her walk away and you can’t help but feel a little curious, especially because you’ve never seen the two together and she looks and sounds completely opposite to the type of people you’d expect Yeosang to hang out with. Because if he’s friends with her, then why the hell would he ever want to entertain himself with the company of someone like you who falls flat in comparison?
“Girl trouble?” you finally ask once the sound of her clicking heels disappears down the hallway.
He presses two fingers into the bridge of his nose with a forced laugh, the irritation on his face now melting back into the warmness that you recognize. “I guess you could call it that.”
You want to ask more questions but you hold your tongue, deciding that the girls whom Yeosang does or does not fraternize with have nothing to do with you.
But then, to your annoyance, after a few moments of silence he chooses to bring her up again.
“You shouldn’t have let her talk to you like that.”
You roll your eyes, because it’s impossible to take him seriously after what just happened. “You should have defended my honor, loverboy.” you taunt sarcastically.
“It’s not even like that, so calm down.” he huffs. “I don’t need to protect you. You know how to stand up for yourself, so do it next time.”
The library doors come into view and he swings one open for you before you can ponder on his advice any further. There, the few dozen kids sit patiently in their chairs, looking to you and Yeosang excitedly for the start of the program.
And so, for the first 30 minutes you and Yeosang go through your planned evening expertly. Food and drinks flow as the two of you say your final farewells to the younger kids that you’ve grown quite fondly for over the course of these two weeks. The Hongjoong surprise happens just as you imagined it--the kids erupt in cheers and demands for autographs as soon as he bursts into the library with his mink coat and two security guards trailing behind him.
You and Yeosang watch Hongjoong’s speech in the back silently, chowing down on the last few pieces of pizza left by the hungry kids. You’re trying your best to pay attention to whatever knowledge he’s dropping, because truly, when else does a person get the opportunity to hear from an acclaimed, superstar singer? But when Yeosang’s phone is buzzing every other second, it gets hard to pay attention.
Each time his phone vibrates, he pulls it under the table to respond to it, tapping his oily fingers on the screen excitedly. You watch his face in the corner of your eye, watch the edge of his lips twitch every time he receives a new notification. He still looks irritated, but whatever’s on his screen is keeping his attention enough for him to constantly keep his phone at his side.
“Think you could silence that, buddy?” you mutter to him, trying to sound amicable despite the frustration that is coursing through you.
He looks up at you with an apologetic grin. “My bad.”
You sigh in relief when the vibrations end and for a second time, you attempt to tune in to Hongjoong’s speech, a speech that is apparently so funny that the kids in front of you are now keeling in laughter. But even with the buzzing gone your eyes still drift to Yeosang, who is also laughing, but not because of something Hongjoong said.
You almost jump when Yeosang looks up at you, 10 milliseconds away from catching you staring had you not turned away in expert time. He nudges your shoulder with his own as he tucks his phone away into his pocket. You’re relieved, thinking that finally, he’s done with whatever’s been absorbing all of his attention.
“Hey, I think I left something in my fifth period.” he mentions quietly as he smoothes out his pants. “You’ll cover for me, right?”
And while you’re not too happy about being left by yourself, you nod, looking at him in concern as he jolts out of the room hurriedly.
With Yeosang gone though, you finally get to hear the rest of Hongjoong’s speech, a speech that is equally as funny as it is enlightening. But then the speech ends, and the spot in the chair next to you is still empty.
Hongjoong is forced to leave because of some schedule that demands his attention and now you’re forced to improvise something on the spot for the kids to do as you wait for your partner to come back from wherever he’s gone off to. You think it makes you look stupid, because while the kids may try their hardest to be polite, you’re just the val to Yeosang’s sal. You’re not oblivious to the fact that they seem to respond to him way more than they do to you.
It’s evidenced by their unenthusiastic reaction to your next few words. “Well, since this is the last day of the program, how about we all take a group selfie?” you suggest as you pull out your own cell phone.
“What about Mr. Yeosang?” demands a squeaky voice from the back of the room. “He’s gotta be in it too!”
You sigh in exasperation, feeling way out of your bounds here with dozens of loud kids demanding to see someone that isn't you. You look down at your watch, only to realize that there's’ only a limited amount of time left before these kids need to be picked up by their guardians or else you'll have double the amount of parents screaming at you.
Think, Y/N, think. He said he went off to fifth period. Who is Yeosang’s fifth period teacher?
Dr. Choi. Room D203. You know this because you remember scanning Yeosang’s entire schedule when you [forcibly] demanded his transcript.
“How about you guys follow me to room D203?” you suggest to the kids brightly. “Let’s go find Yeosang for the picture, okay?”
And that’s how you end up walking down an empty hallway with an amount of pre-teens that would put the Duggars to shame trailing behind you, all of them whispering excitedly about Hongjoong and other musings.
And that’s when you hear it.
The noise is quiet at first. But then again, even the quietest of noises are amplified in an already quiet hallway. Even when you’re a few yards away, you can still hear the distinct sounds of moaning coming from the classroom up ahead.
You turn around robotically to the kids behind you, who you pray to god don’t recognize the faint whimpers that are coming from the door behind you.
“Why don’t you guys...stay here?” you stammer out in an attempt at sounding calm. “I’ll go and get Yeosang, and we’ll take the picture out here, okay?”
But kids don’t listen, and even if they wanted to stay behind, you’ve just succeeded in piquing their interest by talking to them in such an ominous way.
You stalk forward to approach the door, not noticing the few stray kids that are following behind you. The glass window of the door is covered by blinds, and without a visual, all you can do is hope that whatever’s behind this door is a completely innocent, child friendly picture.
But when you turn the handle and swing the door open, you’re greeted by the sight of Yeosang and his lady friend Rose propped on top of a desk with their tongues lodged down each other’ throats.
The cherry on top? His hand is also thrusting in and out of her skirt.
The kids behind you cry out in unison, some in laughter, some in shock, some in disgust. Either way, their loud noises easily alert the two lovers of your presence, with both of them looking up at you in horror.
“I thought you said you locked the door!” Rose screeches as she scrambles off of the desk.
Deciding that you’ve seen enough, you do the work for her. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
And with that, you slam the door shut behind you, only to face a crowd of kids with no idea what to say that could possibly explain what they just saw. At the very least your audience looks amused, most of them immature and therefore delighted by any image of sex.
“Well. This is...quite interesting.”
You wait for Yeosang to come out of the classroom a few moments later, his hair clearly disheveled and his shirt unbuttoned a few notches. What's most embarrassing is the way he wipes his hand on the side of khaki pants, creating a dark stain on the pockets from the wetness.
“So what did I miss?” he asks avidly, the type of temperament that feels misplaced from a guy that just got caught fingering a girl on his teacher’s desk.
But only Yeosang can get away with these types of things, because he’s charming and likable and knows how to work his magic so that all of the kids are huddling by the wall to take the picture they wanted so desperately. Funny enough, it’s Rose who takes the photo, smiling innocently as if she wasn’t just getting finger popped just a few moments ago.
“Say cheese!” she coos, taking a few photos in different poses before finally, to your relief, handing the phone back to Yeosang.
“Alrighty, guys! Time to go! Let’s keep what we saw here to ourselves, okay?” are your embarrassingly short final words to the kids as you usher them out the door and into the parking lot where their families await them. In the corner of your eye, Rose has a similarly rushed farwell, getting on her tippy toes and planting a chaste kiss on Yeosang’s cheek before walking out the door behind them.
That leaves you and Yeosang alone, where you head to the library to clean up the mess that the kids surely left behind. And because you don’t have anything particularly nice to say to him right now, you stay silent, keeping a shoulder’s distance away from him as you walk ahead.
You don't even know if you have the right to feel as angry as you do right now. All you know is that what he did was wildly inappropriate, to sneak off during a very important meeting just for a little bit of action. And now, there are a bunch of kids that looked up to him who saw something that their parents will have to explain away later.
Then again, you’re not too far removed from middle school to remember what you were like at that age. If these kids are anything like you were back then, what they just saw in that classroom probably isn’t their first encounter with sex. Kids are curious at that age and you know that Yeosang putting his fingers up a fully clothed Rose might not even be the worst they've seen.
But if that's the case, then why do you feel as upset as you do right now?
If you’re being really honest with yourself today, you’d admit that what’s making you the most angry at this moment is the person that Yeosang chose to acquaint himself with.
Come on, Rose? He could do much better than that, and you’re saying that as his friend, who wants better for him.
“I think I traumatized those kids for life.” Yeosang jokes to break the silence, laughing to himself in an effort to make what he just did sound more lighthearted than it actually was.
But then he notices your silence, notices that you’re not at all as entertained as he is about this whole ordeal.
You almost yelp when he jumps ahead of you, forcing you to look him directly in the face. “What’s up?”
His body blocks you from moving forward---the intended effect, you suppose. But you wish he didn’t ask, because you really don’t want to make a big deal out of this.
“I didn’t want to see that either, Yeosang.” you reply curtly before moving around him and walking forward, hoping that you keep it at that without expounding further.
But his eyes widen, and then he’s got this look on your face that lets you know he’s slightly miffed at your answer. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were such a prude.”
You do a double take at that, because you’re not gonna let him place the blame on you for what you consider to be a rightful reaction.
“I’m not a prude, Yeosang.” you tell him, stopping in your tracks. “I just think its pretty common knowledge not to commit sexual acts on a desk, prude or not.”
“I said I was sorry, Y/N.” he repeats with a shrug of his shoulders. “Are you really gonna make a big deal out of this?”
You sigh, realizing that it isn’t worth it to try and make Yeosang feel bad for what he did. Of course he doesn’t see anything wrong with digitally penetrating a random girl for a few teenagers to see. Boys will be boys, right?
“I guess I just thought you were different.” is the last comment you make before walking forward to the library as planned.
But trying to end arguments is almost impossible with Yeosang, who seems just about determined to get the last word. “Just because I’m smart, doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.” he defends as he chases after you.
“Yeah? Well have your fun with Rose--” you say in a mocking sort of way, “--somewhere else next time, buddy.”
You try to walk ahead of Yeosang but he stops you, pulling you backward with a hand on your forearm. You jerk away, knowing that the same hand was lodged in someone's vaginal cavity less than 10 minutes ago.
Yeosang, like you, didn’t want to make an argument out of this. What you saw in that classroom was supposed to become an unfortunate and embarrassing moment that the two of you could laugh about later on down the line.
But now, he recognizes something in your tone that sounds an awful lot like...contempt. Anger directed towards Rose. And sure, Yeosang’s not too fond of the girl either. She’s chatty, and clingy, and demands way more out of the man than he could ever give her.
But with Rose, and all of the other girls that Yeosang’s frequented in the past few months, they’ve given him something that you’ve refused to offer him since you got your happy ending with Wooyoung: attention.
And who are you to question that? To find fault with how he chooses to carry on after you’ve ditched him to perform similar activities with his best friend?
Contempt? Anger? Those are emotions that don’t fit the docket of someone who is supposedly in a committed, happy and secure relationship. And it makes him wonder: what about his grass is so green that you’re judging it from the windows of your supposed happy home?
Yeosang tilts his head to look at you as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “So let me get this straight. It’s perfectly okay for you to show up everyday this week with hickies covering your neck, but when I get some action, it’s a problem?
You cross your arms at the accusation. “Why do you care about what’s on my neck?”
“Why do you care where I put my fingers?”
You scoff, refusing to even entertain his questions. “Honestly, Yeosang? Go fuck yourself.”
“You seem pretty riled up.” he observes smugly. “Wanna elaborate on that?”
“Go to hell.”
“You know what, Y/N? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re being jealous.”
Yeosang moves a few steps closer to you until you’re pinned against the brick wall of the hallway and unable to back up. It’s his signature trick: getting so close to you so that you’re rendered speechless.
“But that wouldn’t make any sense, would it?” he ponders, grabbing a strand of your hair and twisting in his fingers. “Because you’re with Wooyoung, right?”
This is a test. He’s trying to see if you’ll do exactly what you usually do when he’s got you this close: fold. Melt into a stuttering, flushed mess because he’s handsome and he smells good and he’s only a few inches away from kissing distance.
But he’s also accusing you of something here, even without saying it outright. He wants to prove, either for himself or to you, that the only reason why you’re so angry about what happened today is because you’re secretly and painfully in love with one Kang Yeosang.
And if there’s one thing you’ll never do, it’s prove Yeosang right about anything.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” you groan as you push him backwards. “I don’t care who you fuck, just keep it away from me, okay?”
You walk right into the library, ending the conversation there before he can voice any objections. '
But deep down, you're scared that maybe there is another reason why seeing him with another girl upset you so much.
Gossiping is never a rarity in the hallways of KQ High School. As Halloween approaches, there’s almost no corner in the school where you can’t find a group of students huddled, speaking in whispers as they chat about the latest parties coming up this week. As usual, you ignore it, walking through the school and handling your business as usual.
But you’re forced to indulge in the gossip when you start hearing your boyfriend’s name in the mix.
“Word on the street is that someone's having an epic Halloween party at Yeosang’s house this weekend.” you tell Wooyoung when you catch him at his locker during lunch, who seems completely oblivious to the accusatory note in your statement.
“Oh, really?” he replies sarcastically, pretending he has no idea what you’re talking about. “Sounds fun.”
You take the notebook that you’re holding in your arm and smack him on the head with it lightly. “Spit it out, Wooyoung.”
“Okay, okay.” he says, holding his arms up by his head in defeat. “The party was my idea. I’m just using Yeosang’s house and name to attract more guests.” he explains nonchalantly.
“And does Yeosang know that you’re using his house and name?” you ask, knowing the boy’s affliction to parties.
“Of course he does.” he assures you. “He just told me to promise that it would be lowkey, just a few people.”
“Wooyoung, you do realize that over half of this school is coming to the party, right?”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” Wooyoung excuses calmly despite the growing concern he can see on your face. “He’s been extra brooding lately. The guy needs a little party in his system, okay?”
You sigh, leaning your head against the locker. “And I’m guessing you expect me to come, too?”
He wraps an arm around your shoulders, as if the closeness might prevent you from yelling at him right now. “It would be weird for the party planner to come without a plus one...” he croons in a sing songy voice.
“Are you kidding me, Wooyoung?” you push his arm from your shoulder, taking his hand and pulling him into an empty space in the hallway so you can yell at him without the extra eyes. “Have I not stressed enough how much I hate parties?”
“It’s Halloween, Y/N.” he implores you with a soft smile. “If you don’t party now, when will you?”
You cross your arms over your chest angrily, reminding him so much of his mother. “Wooyoung, do you realize how annoying it is when you just decide what you want people to do without consulting them first? First Yeosang, now me--”
“I’m sorry, baby.” he interupts, putting both hands on your shoulders and wrapping you into his chest before you can protest. “I promise I’ll talk to Yeosang, and make sure he’s okay with it, okay? Don’t worry.”
You hate how sensitive you are to the pet name because you immediately feel your defenses dissolving. It doesn’t help that he also plants a soft kiss on your lips, shutting up any further complaints.
He gives you one last kiss on the crown of your head before separating. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
That’s how you find yourself at a PartyCity with Somi on the night of Halloween, shopping for a last minute costume.
“Why can’t we just wear a couple’s costume like we did last year?” you ask Somi for the fifth time, remembering your yearly costumes together fondly.
“I already told you, me and Changbin are going as Wanda and Vision.” she throws an apologetic glance in your direction before shrugging. “I’m sorry.”
“Ugh.” you groan, following her as she peruses the special effects aile. “Ever since you started dating Changbin, you’ve been acting differently.”
She stops in her tracks to glare at you menacingly. “As if you haven’t been changing because of Wooyoung? The old Y/N would never agree to go to a party, no matter how hard a boy tried to convince her.”
You go silent to that, because as much as you may not want to admit it, if you didn’t care for Wooyoung, you wouldn’t be caught dead at another party. It’s why the only thing you can say in response is, “Whatever. I’m just gonna buy a sheet and go as a ghost this year. At least then no one will see my face.”
“If you have that mindset at every party you go to, you’ll never have fun, Y/N.” she tells you, muttering an “aha!” when she finally finds the costume she's been looking for. “When was the last time you truly let loose? Stopped trying to please others?”
Somi always seemed to have a knack at calling you out even when you didn’t want to hear it. Because when you took the time to think about it, you couldn’t remember a time where you weren’t trying to be the perfect, polished, Y/N. It gave you pride to present the best version of yourself to everyone, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t exhausing.
You end up leaving the store feeling more defeated than when you came in, deciding on a pair of cheap, black feathered wings after what felt like hours of searching.
The first thing you do when you get back to Somi’s bedroom is rummage through her closet, looking for something black and brooding to match your wings (and your mood).
“I don’t know, Somi. I really like Wooyoung, but is it wrong for me to be mad when he puts me in situations that make me uncomfortable?” you ponder before grabbing a hanger with a black hoodie, hanging it front of your body as you stare at yourself in the mirror.
“You have every right to be mad.” she agrees, as you watch her slide into her costume from the corner of your eye.You’ve always thought she’d have the confidence and charm to look amazing in a trash bag, and the thought seems to make you feel even worse about your own self-confidence.
“But think about it this way.” she tells you, coming up behind you and wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “You don’t have to go to this party for him. Go for yourself. You’ve been thinking about boys too hard lately. Maybe if you go for yourself, and not because a boy invited you, you’ll have a much better time.”
She takes the hanger with the baggy hoodie out of your hands before reaching into her closet and replacing it with a sexy, strappy black dress.
“Wear this. It’ll go good with those boots I got you for your birthday.”
WIth Somi’s advice in mind, you change into the outfit, feeling slightly subconscious but also incredibly sexy wearing something that shows so much skin. You don’t feel like yourself but you also think it’s freeing to not be yourself for a night, to channel an alter ego that you didn’t know you had.
“See?!” she says, watching you like a proud mom as you check yourself out in the mirror. “You look absolutely gorgeous!”
You smile, pivoting on your feet to reach out and hug Somi. But in the process, you suddenly notice a metallic flask sitting on the dresser behind her.
“This?” she grabs the flask, taking a swig of it’s contents before slamming it back down. “Just some liquid courage I got from my dad’s liquor cabinet. I like to pregame before the real thing, you know?”
You don’t know what comes over you when you reach your hand out, nodding to the metal container. “Give me some.”
She looks at you with a raised eyebrow, because in all her years of being friends with you, she’s never seen you even suggest a desire for drinking. “Are you sure? You should at least ask me what’s in it.”
You shake your head, recklessness taking over and Somi can tell you’re taking this alter ego thing way too seriously. “You said I should let loose tonight, didn’t you? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
So with that, you held your head back as Somi poured the bitter liquid down your throat. It tasted like what rubbing alcohol smells like, but you enjoyed the heat that flooded your chest nevertheless.
It’s Changbin that picks the two of you up this time, Wooyoung unavailable as he stays behind to set up the party at Yeosang’s house.
“Sup, ladies.” he greets as usual, letting you enter the car first while he stays behind to properly greet Somi. You find yourself extremely happy for your friend when you see the way he looks at her, fondness and attraction clear even from your position in the car. But it’s also your turn to act as a third wheel during the car ride, watching in disgust as the two practically fondle each other in the front seat.
Over at Yeosang’s house, at least 40 people had shown up already, making themselves at home without any regard for the fact that this wasn’t their house to begin with. Yeosang’s parents had already arranged for festive decorations to be placed all over the house, filling the inside and outside with the typical purple orange and green pumpkin, cobweb, and skeleton get-up that made Yeosang want to barf. Wooyoung was rather pleased that most of the decoration was done for him, giving him the sole job of setting up the alcohol which he did rather jovially.
Yeosang seemed to feel quite the opposite, however. He stood at the top of his stairs, watching his house fill and becoming increasinly more incesed with every new guest.
“Wooyoung, I told you I didn’t want this many people here.” Yeosang grunts through clenched teeth after going through the hour long trouble of finding his best friend.
Wooyoung, who was thoroughly disguised by a Money Heist mask, swatted Yeosang’s clenched fist off that was holding onto the collar of his red jumpsuit. “Relax, man. It shouldn’t be more than, give or take, 90 people.”
If it wasn’t for the years of friendship that they had under their belt, Yeosang would have certainly punched the mask off of Wooyoung’s face. “Are you insane? What made you think that I would want any of this?”
“Do you remember that time you stole my Legos in 3rd grade?” asked Wooyoung, his tone serious despite the incredibly pointless question.
Yeosang scoffed in frustration. “How is that at all relevan-”
“This is just payback, brother.” said Wooyoung mischievously, patting his friend on the shoulder.
“And by the way,” Wooyoung looked Yeosang up and down. “Find a costume before 8:00 pm. You look out of place.”
Wooyoung walked away to set up the drinks before Yeosang could say anything else, leaving the boy with only 30 minutes to come up with something to wear.
You, Changbin, and Somi arrived at the party exactly at 8:00pm, entering the crowded house together with much difficulty, as at least 10 people were huddled by the door. As soon as you walk in you feel the eyes of a few bystanders boring into your ‘costume’, with Somi reminding you in your ear that, “They’re staring at you because you look hot!”
You can tell that you’re a lightweight because you’re already feeling different than you were in the car; those two swigs of Vodka that are swimming in your system must be working their magic because the usual anxiety that fills your gut when so many people are staring at you is now replaced by mild excitement. That excitement increases when you see Wooyoung coming towards you, his mask now off so that you can easily recognize him.
He pulls you into a hug, arms resting on the exposed skin of your back. “You look amazing, Y/N.” he compliments, his voice in your ear making chills fall down your spine.
He lets go of you and you get a look at his costume, not recognizing it until you see the mask huddled under his arms. “I’d say the same, but you’re dressed as a thief!” you yell innocently over the music.
He laughs at your signature candor, pulling you into his side and walking you over to a quieter spot in the living room. “If you want to leave, just let me know, okay?”
You shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck casually. “Why would I do that?”
He can tell easily by the smell on your breath and the way you’re not freaking out over the amount of people here that you must’ve drank something before you came. He’s not concerned, mostly because seeing a teenager drunk is like seeing the sun come up to him, and also because he welcomes this new, more laid back side of you.
He plants a quick kiss on your lips. “I’m glad.”
You’re about to lean in for another, but the lovey dovey moment is quickly interrupted by an annoyed Yeosang, who walks over with the purpose of yelling at Wooyoung about a party goer who broke his mother’s lamp. He catches sight of you in his arms, and had Wooyoung not seen him coming and gestured him over he probably would have ran in the other direction.
“Hey man!” Wooyoung greets, backing away from you to fist bump his friend. “Nice costume.”
The ‘nice costume’ that Wooyoung is sarcastically referring to happens to be a pair of black stockings tightly pulled over Yeosang’s face. He found them in his mother’s dresser a few minutes before, cutting holes out of the eyes and lips before heading out into the crowd.
“Yeah, whatever, asshole.” replies Yeosang, rolling his eyes. “Where the fuck have you been, I’ve been looking forever.”
“You just saw me 30 minutes ago.” says Wooyoung, now finding himself becoming annoyed at Yeosang’s killjoy attitude. “I was trying to find Y/N.”
Yeosang’s been trying to avoid looking at you during this entire exchange, mostly because he knows that if he locks eyes with you, his feelings might become too obvious. Nevertheless he knows it would look worse to ignore you, which is why he looks over at you briefly and greets you with a soulless, “Hey.”
“What are you dressed as?” you ask, leaning back against the arm of the couch and looking at Yeosang with way too much intrigue for his liking.
“I’m dressed as a guy who hates Halloween.” he says in a much more snappy tone than intended before turning his attention back to Wooyoung. “Listen, some guy back there broke my Mom’s lamp--”
Wooyoung scoffs. “As if your mom can’t afford to buy the lamp’s manufacturer?”
“That’s not the point--”
But before he can get his sentence out, Wooyoung stops him. “Listen, I need to finish setting up the drinks. Can you stay with Y/N for me?”
Yeosang rolls his eyes, because the last thing he wants is to be alone with you at a party again. “Does Y/N need a babysitter?”
“Pretty sure Y/N can speak for herself…” you add, already annoyed by the way the two boys always seem to want to assert their dominance anytime they’re around you.
“Whatever, Wooyoung. Just go.” dismisses Yeosang, watching Wooyoung make his way through the kitchen while yelling, “Sorry, bro!” behind him.
That leaves you and Yeosang alone, forcing him to actually get a good look at you. He’s never seen you dress this...sexy before, the tight dress you’re wearing outlining the silhouette of your body. He doesn’t let his eyes linger too long in fear of making you uncomfortable. But if his goal is to avoid making you uncomfortable, he’s already failed by wearing that scowl on his face and not saying a word.
“Nice costume.” you compliment out of the blue, just trying to fill the silence with conversation.
“Thanks. And what are you? Some sort of...slutty dark angel? he replies, still unsure what to make of your newfound style choices.
For some reason the word ‘slutty’ doesn’t bother you like it should, most likely because that’s the exact sort of vibe you were trying to channel with this outfit.
“Ahhhh.” he hums appreciatively. “I admit, it’s not something I would have expected from you.”
You roll your eyes, flailing your arms in frustration.. “It seems like everyone’s got an expectation of me! Why can’t I just be?”
It’s at this point in the conversation that Yeosang realizes you’re drunk, but not for the same reasons as Wooyoung. He’s never known you as the extrospective type, making your words indicative that you’ve had a few.
“Since when do you drink?” he asks you with a mixture of concern and surprise.
You put a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “Since todayyy.”
You fall to your feet, drunkenly stumbling and pouting as you find your footing on the carpet. This seems to please Yeosang, who giggles at your disposition.
“You’re cute.” he admits, letting the confession out because he knows you’ll be too drunk to remember it tomorrow.
But he regrets that decision when you tilt your head, looking at him with clear confusion painted on your face.
“Would you say that if Wooyoung was around?”
Yeosang frowns, realizing he may have made a severe mistake by complimenting you so boldly. “What are you talking about?”
“When it’s just me and you, you act so...nice to me.” you explain, the words flowing easily off of your vodka stained tongue. “But then you act like I’ve got the plague when Wooyoung’s around.”
He shrugs, trying to act like you’re the crazy one here despite the truth in your words. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I’ve only had two sips, you asshole.” you punch Yeosang weakly in the chest. “You’re the one that’s got a problem here.”
Yeosang doesn’t say anything and for a second your hand remains on his chest, playing with the button on his shirt and watching his expression go from angry to curious.
“I never know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” you ponder before slipping a finger into the collar of Yeosang’s shirt. You snap the fabric against his skin, mirroring an action he did to you not so long ago.
He doesn’t know how to respond to that so he doesn’t, instead choosing to back away from you before things can go further. He’s glad he does, because Wooyoung strolls over to the two of you with three drinks in his hand seconds later.
“One for you…” Wooyoung hands Yeosang a red solo cup that he downs with a quickness. “One for you…” he hands you an identical cup full of a substance that smells like poison. “And one for me!” Wooyoung holds his own beer bottle and tips it down his throat.
Yeosang cringes as he watches you clumsily sip from your cup, eyes squinting as if tasting something extremely sour. He knows it’s not up to him to dictate what you do but he certainly doesn’t remember a time where you seemed this eager to break the rules.
It’s why, against his better judgment, he pulls Wooyoung aside where you can’t hear him expressing his concern. “Why are you feeding Y/N drinks? Clearly she doesn’t know how to hold her liquor.”
Wooyoung, who has already been annoyed by Yeosang this entire night, rolls his eyes. “It’s up to her to decide what she can handle.”
Wooyoung tries to walk away but Yeosang stops him, grabbing ahold of his wrist before he can turn away. “Don’t you think it’s a cause for concern that ‘goody two shoes Y/N’ all of a sudden is--”
Wooyoung snatches his arm away before Yeosang can finish. “I don’t recall ever seeing you turn down a drink.”.
Yeosang scoffs. “That’s because I’m--”
“What? More ‘experienced’?” he chides angrily. “Stop being a fucking buzzkill, man!”
Wooyoung adjusts the fabric of his jumpsuit with an offended vigor that Yeosang can’t help but notice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go dance with my girlfriend.”
The way Wooyoung emphasizes the word girlfriend, as if trying to remind Yeosang who you belong to, makes him clench his pocketed fist. But there’s nothing he can do but watch as Wooyoung walks over to you and pulls you onto the dance floor enthusiastically.
While Yeosang retreats to the stairs, you wrap your arms around Wooyoung and sway back and forth to the bass of the music.
“You’ll tell me if you drank too much, right Y/N?” asks Wooyoung, concerned and feeling like a horrible boyfriend after Yeosang planted the bug in his head. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything just because we’re at a party-”
“Shhhhh,” you plant a finger on Wooyoung’s lips before resuming your previous dance moves.
But Wooyoung isn’t amused, holding you down by your hips so that you stop moving. “Did you even listen to what I said, Y/N?”
Sighing, you grab a hold of the mask balanced on the top of Wooyoung’s head and pull it down his face.
“I don’t want to be Wooyoung and Y/N tonight.” you tell him, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Let’s be sluttly dark angel and masked thief.”
Wooyoung frowns, albeit a frown you cannot see through the mask. “Will you at least promise me you won’t go overboard tonight?”
“I promise.” you tell him with your fingers crossed behind his neck. “But right now, I just want you to compliment me and keep anything else to yourself.”
Wooyoung, although confused by your sudden change in behavior, decides to play along with your fantasy, letting you take the lead as you turn around and grind your ass all over him.
“You look so good tonight, baby.” begins Wooyoung, guiding your movements with his hands on your hips as you press yourself against him. He’s spent too much of tonight worrying about you and not enough time enjoying just how much skin you’re showing off with this dress. Soft skin that makes him want to jump out of his own.
You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him into you until the bottom of his mask scrapes against your shoulder. “Keep complimenting me.” you request.
It’s not hard for Wooyoung to find things to compliment, especially when you look this tempting. “You’re such a pretty girl. Dressed up so sexy just for me.”
You don’t tell him that you dressed up like this for yourself, instead egging him on as the compliments feed your ego. “Keep going.”
Wooyoung laughs excitedly in your ear before continuing. “I want you all to myself. Just want you pressed up against me like this all the time. You’re so gorge-”
Whatever Wooyoung says next fades away in the background. Because suddenly, your eyes catch sight of a figure peeking down at the crowd from the upstairs balcony. In the dark lighting he’s still unmistakeable, mostly because of the distinct pair of stockings covering his face.
And even from this angle, you can still make out his eyes, eyes that are boring directly into you and Wooyoung.
When Yeosang sees you staring back at him he knows he should look away, pretend that the sight he sees before him isn’t extremely upsetting. There are probably a billion couples here that are dancing with each another to various degrees of raunchiness, but there’s something about seeing you and Wooyoung that makes him burn with anger. Feeling incredibly scornful that it isn’t him dancing behind you.
But instead of turning his head, he waits, expecting that you’ll be the one to look away first.
“Want me to keep going?” asks Wooyoung from behind you, too focused on thinking of compliments to notice the staring contest you’re having with his best friend.
You hum out a distracted ‘yes’ to Wooyoung, who continues to whisper compliments in your ear that get increasingly dirtier the more you grind against him.
And to the astonishment of both you and the boy watching, you don’t rip your gaze from Yeosang the entire time you’re grinding against Wooyoung. Even when Wooyoung’s hands are on your ass, telling you how much he wants you, how sexy you are to him, your attention is completely on Yeosang.
“Fuck, baby.” Wooyoung groans into your ear, feeling himself falling apart. “You’re making me go crazy.”
The more Yeosang stares, the more he feels ill, as if a hole is burned into his stomach every second he has to watch the two of you hump each other. He knows he has no right to feel as bad as he does---you made your choice to be with Wooyoung months ago, a choice that Yeosang has no right to protest or be angry about. But what he should or shouldn’t feel is irrelevant when all he wants to do is go down there and rip the two of you apart from each other.
But what’s even worse is that despite how much it hurts to watch, Yeosang can’t seem to look away. It’s like a sick part of him is getting off on this, getting off on the fact that you’re dancing so seductively with your boyfriend yet your eyes are on his best friend.
What would Wooyoung think if he knew that no matter what he could or couldn’t do for you, your eyes would always remain on Yeosang’s?
You don’t know why you’re looking at Yeosang when Wooyoung is right there, holding onto you and making you feel wanted and good. But if what you’re doing right now is so bad, then why does it feel so good? The whole exchange is so exhilarating for you, having Wooyoung whispering sweet nothings in your ear while Yeosang stares at you intensely. You know it's wrong, rubbing your relationship in Yeosang’s face so blantalty like this.
But the fact that Yeosang hasn't looked away yet tells you that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.
“Y/N.” barks Wooyoung from behind you, the change in his voice from seductive to seriousness immediately catching your attention and forcing you to look away from Yesoang.
“I asked if you wanted to go somewhere quiet.” he repeats, turning you around to face him.
You look over your shoulder to the balcony, trying to see if Yeosang is still watching but to your surprise, he isn’t there anymore. You finally look back at Wooyoung, trying to collect your thoughts and process what just happened. “Um, yeah. Are we going outside?”
Wooyoung smirks at you, giving you an expression that you just know means he’s up to no good. “I was thinking more like...one of the bedrooms?”
The alcohol flowing in your system has you feeling more mischievous than usual, which is why you squeal in excitement as Wooyoung leads you through the hallways and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Wooyoung finds the light switch pretty quickly and walks over to flip it on. He’s been in this room hundreds of times before, so he knows the layout of it like the back of his hand.
But only when your eyes adjust to the bright lighting do you recognize the room, having been in it the last time you were at a Yeosang party.
“Woo, this is Yeosang’s room.”
“It’s fine.” assures Woooyoung, slamming himself down on the edge of the bed. He pulls his mask off, throwing it somewhere on the floor before holding his arms out in your direction.
Wooyoung spreads his legs and presents his very inviting lap for your eyes to feast over. You’re drunk and coursing with hormones that make everything feel more intense right now. So with no hesitation, you straddle your boyfriend, locking both legs on either side of his thighs while your hands reach out to his hair. You pull on the strands that are tussled as a result of the mask, tipping his head back and sticking your tongue into his mouth.
Everything about Wooyoung’s kiss is all consuming--the way his hands grab at your ass, the groans he lets out into your mouth, his plush lips that move forcibly against your own. It’s so good that you don’t even notice that you left the door open.
There’s an open crack in the door, a crack that allowed anyone passing by to see exactly what was going on in this room.
All Yeosang wanted was to flop into his bed, sleep off the events of tonight and wake up hoping that they were all a dream. It’s why he goes down the hallway, fully prepared to fall face first into his comforter and let all of the negative emotions be washed away with some much needed sleep.
But then he sees that his door is open. Weirdly enough, it’s like a part of him knows what he’s going to see before he even gets the chance to look into the crack.
And then he does. He peeks in, and just as he so accurately predicted, it's you: sitting on the lap of his best friend with your tongues swapped down each other’s throats.
That’s when Yeosang officially reaches his breaking point.
He’s had enough. Between this stupid fucking party that he didn’t want, to watching you and Wooyoung grind all over each other, to now having to witness you eating his best friend’s face, is all too much for his overly exerted jealous brain to handle.
Calmly, as if he’s doing the most regular thing in the world, Yeosang navigates through the house and finds a bathroom off by the stairs. He opens the door and just as he anticipated, three or four stoners are holed up in the bathroom. A dude dressed like Captain Sparrow has a blunt sealed between his lips and a lighter pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.
All of the costumed strangers in the bathroom look at Yeosang in surprise, wondering if he’s here to condemn them or kick them out.
But to their collective surprise, he holds his hand out and politely requests, “Can I borrow that?”
Yeosang leaves the bathroom with a lighter in one hand and a roll of toilet paper in the other. He then strolls into the kitchen, looking around at the ceiling until he finally finds what he is looking for---aha. The smoke detector.
Carefully Yeosang rolls up a wad of tissue in his hand. He takes his lighter and ignites the tissue, setting in ablaze with red puffs of fire. He makes sure it is emitting as much smoke as possible, before holding it directly beneath the smoke detector.
It only takes a few more tries before the entire house erupts with the loud ringing of the alarm.
His trick works exactly as intended--all it takes is the faint smell of smoke and the shrill rings of the alarm to cause every attendee to panic, running around like banshees as they search for the exit of the house. Yeosang smashes the burnt tissue into ashes with his foot, laughing under his breath as he watches all of the unwanted guests scramble to leave his house.
Meanwhile, you and Wooyoung, completely oblivious to how the fire got started, jump away from each other immediately when you hear the alarm. If there’s anything that’ll sober anyone up, it’s shock and adrenaline, both of which are injected into your veins as soon as the sound registers in your ears. You jump to your feet first, rushing to the door and finding that it’s already cracked open. You’re greeted by what looks like a marathon gone wrong---at least 100 people stagger and trample over each other as they try and find an exit to the house.
“What’s going on?” mumbles Wooyoung from the bed, gripping a hand to his bleeding bottom lip, cut from the abrupt you broke the kiss.
The obvious answer would be that there must be an active fire in the house, but despite the many screaming party guests, there’s barely any smell of smoke and no large amount of light that would be emitted from a fire.
“I think someone accidentally set off the alarm.” you deduce, closing the door behind you to block out all of the noise. “Could’ve been one of the stoners.”
Wooyoung gets up from the bed and joins you at the door, peeking through to confirm your theory and finding that he too, can’t smell any smoke. “I think you’re right.”
You watch the scene for a few seconds before retreating back to the bed, flopping on it tiredly. “Maybe we should stay in here, wait for everyone to clear out so we don’t get trampled.” you suggest with a yawn.
But Wooyoung, whose eye still peeks from the crack in the door, disagrees. “I just wanna see if Yeosang’s good first.”
“Okay.” you agree softly, following him as he exits the door seconds later.
Luckily, by the time you exit the room many of the guests have made their way out, taking the chaos outside of the house. It also makes it easy to find Yeosang, who is now sitting on the stairs and watching the house empty with a smirk.
The smirk leaves his face when he sees the two of you coming.
“What happened out here?” Wooyoung asks, scanning the living room that is trashed with loose pairs of shoes that most likely belong to the departed guests.
Yeosang shrugs, reaching a hand out to tear the stockings off of his head. “Dunno. Clearly there’s no fire here, so....”
Yeosang clears his throat before standing on his feet, walking past the two of you to grab a roll of trash bags sitting on a cabinet. “It’s late. You guys should probably get going.”
Wooyoung tips his head back in a loud yawn. “You’re probably right. I have that test for Economics tomorrow.”
Wooyoung makes it clear with his repeated yawns that he’s more than ready to get out of here. But as you watch Yeosang pick up trash that isn’t his own, you’re reminded that he never wanted this party in the first place. You can’t help but feel guilty that he’s left to deal with the mess all on his own.
“I’ll stay.” you volunteer. “This place isn’t going to get cleaned up on it’s own.”
Without the stockings to conceal his face, Yeosang’s looks of contempt are much easier to spot now. “It’s fine. You’ve done enough.”
You look over to Wooyoung to see if he caught the tone in Yeosang’s voice but he’s walked away, too focused on calling his Uber to notice the silent tension that courses between the two of you.
Part of you is grateful that he’s leaving, because if the way Yeosang just talked to you is indicative of anything, the two of you have some things that need to be hashed out one on one.
Which is why against your better judgment, you insist, grabbing the roll of trash bags out of Yeosang’s arm. “You can’t clean this whole place by yourself, Yeosang.”
Yeosang watches you challenge him and he resists his every urge to call you out right now in front of Wooyoung. Call out the fact that you’ve been subtly flirting with him all night despite your boyfriend being around the entire time.
But to do that, he’d have to acknowledge the lines that he’s crossed. Like pinning you against a wall, calling you cute, staring at you in a way that friends shouldn’t stare at friends.
Is the responsibility of a girlfriend bigger than the responsibility of a best friend?
“Fine.” Yeosang relents. “But start over on that side.”
You don’t argue. You walk over to Wooyoung, who you depart with a kiss. “Good night, Woo.”
If Wooyoung wasn’t already on his way out of the door, maybe he would have noticed the way Yeosang clenched the soda can in his hand so hard that it folded in on itself.
The clink of the door closing isn’t enough for Yeosang to think Wooyoung has left. He waits until he hears the sound of the car leaving the driveway, glancing through the window to confirm that Wooyoung is absolutely departed, before making his move over to you as you innocently wipe away a stained counter.
At first you don’t notice him coming, too distracted by the very tough stain that covers the marble counter island. It isn’t until he’s a few feet away from you that you finally look up, watching in confusion as he marches over to you, hands free of cleaning supplies.
What startles you first is the irritation that is so clearly lined in his facial expression, a look that you’ve only seen glimpses of here and there. Your hand immediately stops in its attempts to scrub the counter, attention fully piqued by his strange expression.
“Are you good?” you ask softly when he stands next to you silently.
Your question is answered almost immediately when Yeosang suddenly slams a fist on the counter next to you, splashing trace amounts of bleach on your black dress in the process.
You let out a loud groan, angry and confused by the sudden action. “Yeosang, fuck, that could’ve gotten in my eye--”
“Is it fun?”
His eyes bore into yours, looking intense but not in the same way as it was a few moments ago. The only thing you see in them is anger, anger that makes you stiffen in fear.
“Is what fun?” you ask, voice meek and scared and almost inaudible despite the silence in the room.
Yeosang seems to notice this change in temperament because at the very least he backs up from you, recognizing that he has no intent to scare you. But even with the increased distance, he’s still all the more intense.
“Is it fun to play with the feelings of two guys?” he asks, tilting his head as if to appear interested in your answer. “Having them wrapped around your finger so easily?”
Realizing what he’s getting at, you drop the sponge in your hand, pivoting so that you can look at Yeosang fully. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
Tired of you playing innocent all of the time, he rolls his eyes. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”
You open your mouth to insist that no, you don’t know what he’s talking about, but he speaks up first.
“Do you think that little stunt you pulled tonight was okay?” he seethes. “What were you doing, trying to make me jealous?”
You instantly know what he’s referring to, remembering how you stared at each other for almost 5 whole minutes while you danced all over Wooyoung. And while that wasn’t your proudest moment, hearing Yeosang relay in to you in an accusatory tone as if he wasn’t just as eager to watch makes you pulse with anger.
“I can’t make you anything that you aren’t already!” you yell, pushing Yeosang backwards with two hands against his chest. “Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this!”
Yeosang stalks toward you once more while still keeping a safe distance in case you try to push him again. “Do you realize that me and Wooyoung are best friends?”
“Do you realize it?” you ask, seething with vexation and pointing a very angry finger in Yeosang’s direction. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you act when he’s not around? Flirting with me and playing this stupid game of push and pull when you KNOW I’m with your ‘best friend’?”
Yeosang knows you’re right and that only angers him more. He’s angry at himself because he’s been toying the line with you and throwing out comments here and there just because it’s been comforting to hope that maybe, there’s still lingering feelings between the two of you. Tonight seemed to confirm it--the way your eyes never left his despite Wooyoung dancing so closely behind you told him everything he needed to know.
But what tonight also confirmed for him was that if he wanted to hold onto his friendship with Wooyoung and his sanity, he'd have to cut you off completely. Push you away, make you see that Wooyoung is the guy you need to be with. Because playing this push and pull game as you so fairly put it, holding onto hope for something that’ll never be, has only served to hurt his heart even more.
“Y/N, I don’t know what you think this is, but I’ll tell you what it isn’t.” he says, running a shaking hand through his hair. “A game.”
“You and I know full well that me and Wooyoung have been on the rocks.”
Yeosang paces back and forth across the room, convulsing with emotion. “We’ve been trying to repair a relationship that’s been strained by years, separated by miles. It’s not fucking easy, Y/N.”
A fresh dose of guilt steals any and all words from your mouth. Everything that he’s saying reminds you so clearly of that night at the pool with Wooyoung. The night where he spoke about their strained relationship with so much pain in his voice, the same pain you can now hear in Yeosang’s. Anyone who heard the two boys talk about each other would know how much they care for one another despite this strain, and that only makes you feel the thing you’ve feared the most.
That the strain is you.
“And I know that this all might be fun to you. But you...doing stuff like you did tonight…”
He stops pacing and finally looks at you, the anger washed away and revealing a look of sadness. “Let me make one thing clear for you, Y/N.”
“Anything romantic, or even overly friendly between us died once you decided to be with him.”
His words are cold, mean even, with no sugar to coat his true intentions. You think you might just cry because of the way his voice sounds so detached, as if he’s completely lost any and all respect for you after what you did tonight.
He wishes you could know that he doesn’t mean a word of what he’s saying, that he wishes he could be close to you. But every time he lays out the current situation in his head, he knows that the only way to stop the madness that has plagued his mind and relationships for the past few months is to push you away completely. Make you think that he’s this asshole who feels nothing towards you when that’s far from the truth.
“Wooyoung’s a great guy. He doesn’t deserve someone that isn’t all the way for him.” Yeosang says, genuine in his desire to protect his friend. “If you want to cheat on him, have the decency to leave me out of it.”
And with those last few sobering sentences for you to sit and think about, Yeosang walks away. With thoughts of cleaning having left his mind completely, he walks right into his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.
That leaves you alone in the giant, empty kitchen, forced to reckon with how your actions may have led to the destruction of an 18 year friendship.
This is actually kind of bad but it was a spur of the moment writing kind of thing.
You should’ve known I was deadly when you met me
The bottom of your blood stained sneakers was the last thing he saw before darkness consumed him. A low chuckle escapes the lips of the male watching the whole ordeal.
He calls me pretty. But he loves me cause I’m deadly
“My pretty baby.” He whispers into your ear as you hold the bloody knife in your hand. A sick smile on both of your faces as the woman laying on the ground slowly stopped gasping for air.
His soft pillowy lips contrasted with the rough kiss he placed upon your lips. Kisses after your murders always felt the most intimate. Taking the knife from your hands he wipes the blood off the blade with his thumb, placing it into your mouth. Obediently you suck on his thumb, dark glistening eyes looking up at him with admiration.
You’re suffocating. They won’t hear you screaming, “help me”
Loud cries filled the damp, moldy basement. Dark eyes watching as your current victim squirmed around.
“Pathetic.” You mumble as they try to fight against the chains holding them in place. It was quite entertaining at first but now it was getting old watching this happen. A small sigh escapes your lips as you point the gun at the mans head and pull the trigger.
Hongjoong seems to notice your boredom and pulls you into his lap. “Hm? What’s wrong darling?” He questions, placing soft kisses on your neck.
“I need something more.” You whisper, straddling the male as your hands roam through his soft and fluffy hair. Everything about him seemed so soft, warm, inviting. His true intention though, were anything but.
“As you wish darling.”
I’ve been causing a scene but you love when I’m out of my mind.
Furniture and drinks were being thrown around as you stood on top of the bar. You were beyond angry at Hongjoong at the moment and you were going to make sure everyone knew it.
All eyes were on you as you went on a rampage. All pairs of eyes except two and it pissed you off even more. Despite your actions, you actually ended up starting a riot in the bar. Those who weren’t drunk fled and those who were drunk acted as foolish as you.
Even though you were pissed, you felt exhilarated. For the first time in months something besides killing sparked an emotion within you.
Stepping down from the bar you approached Hongjoong who currently had a girl perched onto his lap. You scowled as your noticed the hickeys placed along his neck, none of them were yours. He had a smirk on his lips as his eyes finally take in your form.
Oh so precious, get your weapons.
The broken shard of glass twirled in your hands as you approached the two even more. The girl on his lap seemed to notice and a smirk appeared on her lips. Before you could get a move in she took out a dagger of her own.
Hongjoong releases his grip on the females waist. Allowing her quickly stand and press the knife to your neck.
“Try it. I dare you.”
I’m a mess it’s so hectic. But you never say goodbye.
A frown was placed on your lips as your eyes lit up with joy. It was clear to Hongjoong who was now sitting beside you on the couch that you were feeling conflicting emotions in that very moment.
Blood streamed down your face as your recall the fight earlier into the night. She had gotten a few good stabs and punches in before you got tired of fucking around with her and ended her life. But in all honesty, as fun as that was, you were still pissed at Hongjoong. He likes to use you for his own amusement at times and this was one of them. While you felt quite fulfilled yourself you knew Joong had set this up more for himself than for you.
Blood stains, blue veins. Your skin as cold as ice
Fear faded from your current victims eyes. He had been snooping around a little too much for your liking so you had lured him in. You made him fall in love with you (much to Hongjoong’s dismay) and then killed him. Well, that’s was what was supposed to happen before Hongjoong let his jealousy overcome him. Caressing his cheek you savored the contrast of your warm hand with his cold skin. Despite being one of many victims he would be the one you remembered the most.
Hongjoong knew that and was beyond jealous. Choi San was not supposed to be on your mind, not like he was. He knew you were pissed at him as he had ruined your fun but he didn’t care. He didn’t want you fucking around with other men. You honestly were getting tired of him though. He was being such a hypocrite and his jealousy was slowly starting to become suffocating.
You should’ve know that I was trouble when you met me.
A daunting smirk was placed on your lips as you stared Hongjoong straight into the eye. Chains that once held your victims now holds your lover. Straddling his waist a small hum escapes your lips. Finally, you had the control you wanted.
Hooked on me, I figured it out. Likes a little crazy, gotta keep me around
Joong was more than happy to let you do as you pleased with him. He found himself only loving you further as you craved your name into his back. Your content humming reaching his ears as he felt blood running down his back and soaking his pants.
On your knees, I’m breaking you down. You can say you hate me, but you’ll never walk out.
warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too explicit, but there is one scene that is heavy on blood), strong language, pining, some fluff, soft gang member!mingi 🥺
summary: he had always promised to keep you safe, not realising that, in the end, you would be the one protecting him.
words count: 7.2k (🤷🏻♀️)
requested by anonymous.
This was not the place for people who had weak spots. Families were important, but never important enough to turn into something that could be used against you. The people who worked here had no significant ties to anything—or anyone—that could ever result in their demise.
It had always made sense to Mingi: why open your heart to someone and then risk getting that same heart ripped out of your chest, raw and bleeding, by a person who figured out that the best way to take you down, was to kill someone you loved?
He did not understand the stupidity of those who set off on killing rampages, fueled by their need for revenge after someone they loved was taken from them. Not one of them survived long enough to actually taste the revenge that they were seeking. Mingi wondered if it was worth it.
Really, when it came to this business, there was only one fundamental rule: do not, under any circumstances, develop a relationship that could be used against you.
Mingi talked a lot. But he broke that rule as soon as he met you.
It wasn’t long before it backfired, and you ended up in very real danger. But Mingi had a plan: a safe house, right on the edge of the woods. He was apologetic when he insisted that you had to move in – not that you protested much; the stories he told you about his job haunted your dreams most nights – but sharing this space with him was really nice.
You’d been together for over two years at that point, and this was the most you’ve seen of him, consecutively. Usually, he’d show up at your place – always unannounced – at odd hours of the night, and you’d only have a couple of hours with him before his phone rang, and he had to go.
So, really, living in that secluded cottage, with not a living soul around – just you and him – was, unexpectedly, brilliant.
“Maybe I’m too paranoid,” he’d tell you sometimes, after catching your longing gaze as you stared through the window. “Maybe I’d be able to keep you safe without having to—”
“It’s okay,” you’d always say. “I like it here.”
Mingi knew you well enough to recognize the honesty in your voice, but it still felt unfair. He didn’t think loving him should have come at such a big cost to you – dropping everything and leaving the world you knew, to live a reclusive lifestyle with him. He didn’t think he was worth it.
But he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone. He never thought he’d be able to say this about anyone in his life, but he truly, genuinely loved you too much to leave. So, he did everything he could to make sure that the quality of your life with him was great. He’d already made it worse by getting you involved in his business, he didn’t want to make this any harder for you.
That was probably why he insisted you two cooked paella for dinner tonight – just to try something new. Neither of you had tried it before, and it turned out to be a great idea to cook it from scratch – really, no irony intended. Mingi was exceptional with a knife – you didn’t want to ask if he adapted the skill of cutting vegetables from another activity – and you were an expert when it came to rice.
“We’re a great team,” he commented as he got the wine, while you sautéed the vegetables.
“We are,” you agreed, a loving smile on your face. “Although, I feel like the skillet is doing most of the job for us. I’m really just stirring.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” he replied, placing the bottle of white wine on the counter next to the stove, and sneaking his hands around your waist as he stood behind you. “We can just watch and enjoy the smell.”
You leaned back against him, content in his arms, and listened to Mingi as he hummed softly, no doubt just as happy to be enjoying this moment with you.
However, your blissful routine only lasted for so long.
“I’ll be out tonight again,” Mingi told you when the two of you were back in the kitchen, washing the dishes.
He always worked nights – you had a feeling it was something that he decided on purpose; so he wouldn’t have to leave you by yourself during the day – and every time he announced that he had a job to do, you felt the painful stabs on anxiety in your stomach.
“Yeah?” you said, and Mingi caught the way you bit your lip nervously.
“Just for a few hours, it’s a quick meeting,” he added as if a shorter time-frame meant he’d be in any less danger. “I’ll try not to wake you.”
“I probably won’t be sleeping anyway.”
You regretted it as soon as you said it – even more so, when Mingi nearly flinched when he heard that.
“W-why do you say that?” he asked.
You shrugged instead of replying. You didn’t mean to say this much, let alone admit that you struggled to fall asleep when you knew he could have been getting killed right that moment.
Mingi put the dish towel down and looked at you, serious. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?” you asked with a deceitful smile. You really should not have said anything. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
You sighed and turned the tap on the sink off, flicking your wrists a few times to dry your hands off a bit.
“Look, I…” you tried to find the best way to put this since it looked like you’d have no other choice, but to explain yourself. “I love you and I appreciate you looking out for me. But it’s a bit hypocritical of you, no?”
“How so?” he asked, evidently not catching on.
“You put yourself in danger every night.”
Now he got it.
This was another thing he’d done to damage the quality of your life instead of improving it. He hadn’t even realised—how stupid and naïve of him—that you’d be just as worried about him, as he was about you.
“Well, I—I-I mean, not every night,” he said, his voice soft and hopeful.
He didn’t know why he wished you would cut him some slack and say that you were okay with what he did. He didn’t want you to lie, he hated that. So, then, by that logic, he must have wished for you to say that you were fine with this, and mean it.
“Still,” you replied because, well, you weren’t really fine with this. “How can you be sure they won’t decide to attack you?”
Mingi shook his head sadly because that was the whole point: of this secret cabin, of his overnight missions, of his endless attempts to keep you away from harm.
“They won’t be coming for me,” he told you. “They know a better way to hit me where I’m most vulnerable.”
You swallowed. “We’re safe here, though. Aren’t we? No one knows where this house is.”
He wished this was a magical safe place, protected from harm with spells that no one could undo. But it wasn’t.
“There are some who know,” he admitted, “and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before they get my allies to turn against me. We…” he stopped himself before saying this next part because this wasn’t easy. He was asking you for another sacrifice as he said, “we won’t be able to stay here long.”
You exhaled – but not because he was inflicting you pain by being overly protective. It was because you’d grown accustomed to this place. It didn’t feel like you were hiding from someone here. It felt like everyone was hiding from you. Like it was just the two of you left in this part of the world – you, and your little cottage on the edge of the woods.
“Okay,” you said finally because, really, what else were you going to say? “Tell me when. I’ll be ready.”
Mingi – who had to kill people for a living sometimes – felt like the sort of love he had for you, should not have fit inside of his chest. It should have painted this entire house in brightest colors and brought down every single building in the immediate vicinity.
He felt so powerfully in love with you, and he did not think he deserved it one bit.
“Okay,” he said, his mouth dry. “Thank you for—”
“Don’t,” you shook your head, stopping him. You didn’t like how sad his eyes looked whenever he thanked you for anything. “I love you. I’ll go where you tell me.”
With a shaky breath, he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck.
“I love you so much,” he said, his voice muffled. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
You hugged him back, almost with an equal amount of force – Mingi was stubbornly strong – and reminded him, “I care about your safety more, okay? Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I’m safe,” he replied. In fact, he’d never felt safer than right here, right now, with you in his arms. “I promise.”
In the cruelest twist of irony, Mingi returned home that night without his leather jacket and with his white shirt ripped and bloody. Gnarly wounds ran on his cheekbones, eyebrows, and lips. A trail of blood was on his temple. His knuckles were cracked and bruised, his Beretta was missing; there was a mixture of dirt and blood on his dark jeans.
He looked like he’d been to hell and back.
“Fuck,” you exhaled when you ran into him at the doorstep of your bedroom. You had been coming out to see him after hearing the front door open. “W-what—”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to go,” Mingi said.
“Where?” you asked. It hurt him that you didn’t even ask why. Although, maybe it shouldn’t have – you’ve been in this for almost as long as he has. You’ve seen him in worse condition before.
“Anywhere,” he replied. He spoke quietly as if even the silence of the house could betray his plan. Or, rather, the fact that he did not have one. “As long as it’s far, far away from here.”
“When?” was your next question, and his heart squeezed in pain yet again. Every single thing you asked him hurt more than all of the punches he’d received at the meeting tonight.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said, leaning against the wall as the pain—all over his body—made it tricky for him to stand. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
The fact that he was saying that while he looked like this – like he’d fought and lost a war, and then got into a dog fight on his way back – made you clench your jaw in frustration.
“I know,” you said. You were fine. He was the one who took the punches for you.
Mingi closed his eyes for a moment and brought his tongue over his chapped, bloodied lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you replied and stepped over the threshold to take his hand into yours, careful not to hurt him with your touch. “Come here now. Let me clean you up.”
As you soaked a towel under warm water and got the first-aid kit from the cupboard in your bathroom, Mingi explained to you what had happened tonight.
He’d never kept secrets from you about his job, but you didn’t usually ask. You didn’t ask tonight, either, but he felt like he owed you an explanation why this was going to be the last time you would tend to his wounds in the small bathroom of this house – a house that was meant to keep you safe, but had clearly failed to do the same for him.
“My boss heard I was meeting with new people,” Mingi spoke. “Potential clients. I got the deal signed, we shook hands, it was done. Boss is happy, I’m happy, everything seems to be looking brighter. But then I got a call last week, and now they’re saying they’re backing out. They’re saying the deal’s over. I asked why. They said they didn’t want to go into a business with my boss.”
You listened in silence, focused on the cotton swab in your hands as you tried to disinfect the cut on his eyebrow. It didn’t look like he would need stitches, which was good. You’d seen him return home with deeper wounds before.
“I asked them if they’d do business with me instead,” Mingi continued the story. “They said they’d need to think about it. They don’t want any repercussions. I assured them there wouldn’t be any.”
“Why?” you asked absentmindedly. “You knew there would be.”
“Not necessarily. And, see, I’m fucked either way,” he said. “If my boss finds out I botched the deal, he’ll find a way to dump by body into our harbor. But in this scenario, at least I have a chance. I thought I’d manage to convince my boss to give me more time, so I could change their minds. If they trusted me, I thought I could eventually get them to trust my boss, too.”
Sometimes, you spaced out – for just a quick second – and when you tuned back in, all of this sounded surreal. How could you be here, in the cramped bathroom of a cottage that was meant to keep you safe, listening to your wounded boyfriend talk about how he had a target on his back? And it was all so casual, too – for God’s sake, he was literally sitting on the closed lid of a toilet seat while you were bandaging his eyebrow.
This was supposed to be idyllic to you at this point. And yet you weren’t sure what to reply to him here.
Pulling away slightly to pick up a bandage, you concluded lamely, “that’s not what happened.”
“No,” he confirmed it. “They shipped a delivery for me a couple of nights ago and it arrived today. It’s my biggest one yet, I’ve never dealt with this many firearms before. Except they didn’t change the delivery address. My boss showed up to work this morning to see a paper slip about the shipment of ammunition that he needed. Except the slip was addressed to me.”
You exhaled slowly. You knew the story ended badly – there weren’t any fairytale endings for someone like you and Mingi – but you still couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“I tried to explain myself,” Mingi continued. “Clearly, they didn’t listen. So, it’s over.”
You stopped, unsure what that implied.
“You left?” you asked then.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think what happened exactly was, they kicked me out.”
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you leaned your lower back against the washing machine to see him better as you inquired, tentatively, “so, now what?”
“They said they’d have me back.”
That did not make sense to the story he was telling – his boss had assumed he’d back-stabbed him. Why would he want him back?
Mingi could see the confusion on your face – you knew he could, you saw the way he blinked and looked away as soon as you frowned – but he did not explain.
“Why would they say that?” you had to ask.
Mingi did not want to say it – it was clear in the way he clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes – but he’d already told you so much. It didn’t seem fair to keep this from you now.
“They said I could return,” he spoke, “if I got rid of you.”
Thoughts swarmed in your mind even though Mingi tried to distract you by standing up and declaring, once more, “it’s over. I’m done. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
He took your hand and guided you to bed, staying with you until he assumed you fell asleep, refusing to speak one more word about his job. He had made his decision.
Then, when silence settled between you, and you stopped responding to his gentle mentions of your name, he quietly left to take a shower. But your eyes opened as soon as he left the room.
You couldn’t sleep one bit that whole night. Thankfully, Mingi didn’t seem to have that problem – when he returned after having washed up, he lied down next to you, and his soft breathing was replaced by gentle snoring within just a few minutes.
Good. You needed him asleep for what you were about to do.
When morning came, you weren’t here.
Mingi had never felt more scared. He turned the whole house upside down. And when his heart was about to give up on him, he spotted a letter.
You’d actually left it right on his desk, meant for him to see it as soon as he came in to the office room this morning. But in his blind panic, Mingi hadn’t even checked this room.
With shaking hands, he reached for the envelope. He already knew what the letter was going to say before he even read it, but he ripped the envelope open anyway. Maybe he was masochistic like that. Or maybe he just wanted to see your words and hear your voice again – even if it was just in his head.
“I love you,” the letter read. It didn’t say that it was addressed to him, but it didn’t need to. This was clearly meant for his eyes as he read on, “and precisely because I love you, is why I have to leave. I will miss you always, but I would rather miss you alive than dead. I’m sorry about everything. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, however hard you may find that to believe. I’m proud of how far you’ve come, Mingi. I don’t want you to give up your job or suffer the consequences because of me. Even though I’m no longer with you, I still love you more than words can describe. Take care of yourself please.”
Mingi wasn’t sure what came first after he finished reading your letter – the yelling or the breaking of the furniture. He was not proud of either. And none of that helped anyway.
He did not know where you went, you did not leave an address. Your phone was off and likely dead now, just from the intensity of his incoming calls alone. You’d taken your cash with you, along with all of your things – a clear indicator that you didn’t plan to come back.
There was nothing he could do.
You were gone.
It had been four months since you’ve last seen Mingi. And yet the pain in your chest was relentless. Your nightmares consisted of that same scene repeating itself: you are getting out of bed while Mingi is still asleep. You glance back at him over your shoulder. You see his sleeping features especially clearly in your head – and it hurts all the more because of it – and some nights, you even reach out to touch him. You can hear gunshots in the distance. And then you stand up and leave, never to return again.
He’d always promised he’d keep you safe. Now it was you promising the same to him.
But even despite knowing that you’d done the right thing, you still felt miserable. Every single day since you got on the train that morning, purchasing a one-way ticket to the first place you saw on the Departure board, has been exhausting and meaningless.
Granted, you got a job at the local bookshop in town and even made friends there – everyone felt bad for the sad girl who refused to speak about where she came from or what she was doing here – but not even that could fill the empty, gaping hole inside of your chest.
“We’re going to get drinks tonight,” your co-worker, Mia, told you at the end of your shift. Before you could tell her to enjoy herself – you assumed she was going with the girlfriend that she’d told you so much about – she placed a hand on your shoulder and stated firmly, “that’s you and me, we.”
“Oh,” you chuckled. This wasn’t the first time she’d invited you to join her and her friends – bless her – but you always turned her down. “That’s nice, but I don’t know. I’m not really in the mood.”
“Babe, no offense, but I’m getting the feeling like you will never be in the mood,” she said. “So, I’m forcing you. Is that okay? No—don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. You don’t get to say no tonight.”
You bit your lip, trying to find an excuse that could get you out of this, but coming up empty. There were lots of things you could have said – a dentist’s appointment, a sick relative, a hungry pet – but you’d been doing so well here, you didn’t want to lie. Not to mention, the people here were so kind, they were likely going to suggest walking you home or taking your “sick relative” to the hospital themselves.
“Fine,” you ended up saying. “But I won’t stay very long.”
“We’ll decide on that once we’re there,” Mia replied with a wink. “Let me just grab my phone from the break room, and we can close up, yeah?”
You looked at the clock on the wall across from you. “We still have twenty minutes until closing—”
“It’s a special occasion tonight,” she cut you off. “We can finish early.”
You weren’t so sure about that, but the mysterious glint in her eyes intrigued you – and scared you a little – so you decided not to argue.
“It’s on you if we get in trouble for this!” you called out after her as she jogged towards the door at the back of the shop, marked Staff.
She merely waved her hand in response – forcing a smile out of you – while you redirected your attention to the elderly customer that had approached you for help.
It took you about ten minutes to help the man find the book he was looking for – you had a feeling he just came here for company and didn’t really care for the books much, but you didn’t have the heart to ask him to leave – and by that time, Mia was even more antsy.
“What is going on with you?” you asked with a good-natured laugh as you locked up the shop. Mia linked your arms and headed towards the bar across the street.
“Nothing! I’m just really excited that I finally got you to join me,” she said. It sounded fair enough. “I swear, I’m really not that bad.”
“I know you’re not,” you replied. “I was just never really into drinking.”
“No, but you don’t even have to drink!” she insisted then, determined to make you feel more comfortable. “We usually go to a bar on Friday nights because there’s nowhere else to go here. You know? But there will be a lot of people there, and some of them won’t be drinking. Just hanging out.”
You were already willing to humor her, so she didn’t need to try so hard. And yet you appreciated her even more for it; she genuinely wanted to help you have a nice time tonight.
So, you decided that you were going to let her help you. It’s been four months—four long months—and maybe it was time you stopped punishing yourself and had fun. Even if it was just for this one night.
Mia had been right, nearly everyone your age who lived in this town, had gathered at the bar. A surprisingly large part of them was drinking non-alcoholic beverages, or not drinking anything at all. And an even larger part of them – surprising you even more – was actually really glad to see you here.
“We were thinking of hosting an intervention for you,” Jane, the girl from the coffee shop next-door, told you when you sat down at their table with a glass of coke. “Because you kept turning us down.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe you were the problem?” a boy you hadn’t met suggested. He would turn out to be the local postman, and not even twenty-one yet.
Jane gave him a look. “Please. We’re amazing people. Tell us we’re not.”
That last part was directed at you, and you chuckled, nodding. “No, you definitely are. I’m just not someone who goes out a lot. But it’s actually really nice here.”
“It is!” your co-worker’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see her arrive to your table with her girlfriend – who was the bartender here – and a tray of shots. “But tell me you’ve been warned about what they did the last time someone new moved into town.”
This piqued your interest and you raised your eyebrows, turning to face the rest of the people at the table. “What happened?”
“They stalked the poor guy,” Mia’s girlfriend explained as the two girls took their seats next to you. “So badly, that he was forced to leave town.”
“That is not at all why he left!” another girl protested. You weren’t sure what her job was, but you’d seen her hanging out at your bookshop most afternoons. “He said that his grandmother had a medical emergency.”
“Does that not sound like an excuse to you?” the postman cut in and then leaned in closer to you slyly, explaining the situation, “Jane and Rin followed him wherever he went, trying to befriend him. That poor guy was just, I don’t know, introverted, probably. They scared him off.”
Rin turned out to be the girl you’d seen at your shop. She rolled her eyes at this accusation.
“I’m sorry for trying to make him feel welcome,” she said. “And we didn’t follow him. We merely happened to run into him. Several times. It’s a small town.”
You laughed at this while the postman concluded sadly, “this is why no one ever comes here.”
“Is it?” Jane bit. “Because I thought it was because our town is in the middle of nowhere.”
“Exactly,” Rin added, she was clearly Jane’s partner in crime. “And the postal service here is terrible.
The postman gasped, clutching his chest in dramatic mock-offense, and you found yourself laughing again. It was truly nice to be here.
So nice, in fact, that a couple of drinks later, the girls at the table managed to get you to open up, too. You’d listened to them share their own stories about how they came to live in this dead-end of a town – they meant that lovingly – so it felt fair that you gave them something in return.
Not to mention, it felt good to talk to someone about what had happened.
“I left my boyfriend,” you admitted, obviously omitting a lot of the details that would raise even more questions. “We… weren’t meant to be, I guess.”
The table considered this new information for a while. Mia was the one who dared to ask, “was he a bad person?”
You understood what she was hinting at, and shook your head immediately. Mingi may have had a lengthy list of people he’d killed, but he had never hurt you.
“No, not at all,” you said. “He was wonderful.”
“I’m sorry, love,” Rin spoke up carefully, “but wonderful people don’t get dumped.”
You winced at the term.
“I didn’t dump him,” you said even though you weren’t sure if you really hadn’t done exactly that. “I just… left. I was the one who was the reason for—I-I was holding him back. He already had plenty of things on his plate. We’re better off this way.”
It felt weird to be saying that. Not just because this was the first time you actually spoke about this to other people, but also because this was never something that you expected to happen in your relationship. And maybe, up until tonight, when you actually said all this out loud, you didn’t really believe that it had happened.
Mingi always seemed like the one who would leave. There was always a small part of you that expected him to come up to you one morning, suitcases in hand, and tell you that he was leaving. You knew he could come up with multiple reasons for this – and all of them would eventually lead back to the fact that he considered himself not worthy of you.
You closed your eyes and exhaled shakily, the memories too overwhelming.
“These things happen,” Mia said somewhere next to you, her voice soft. Her girlfriend nodded, agreeing, and placed a comforting hand on your back. “How about we talk about something more cheerful, hm? Because I’d hate it if you never came out with us again.”
“That’s right, we’re not really a glum crowd,” Jane said as she reached over the table to give your hand a squeeze. You lifted your eyes to thank her with a smile. “Oh, listen! Have I told you guys about the hedgehog in my garden?”
“You have a hedgehog in your garden?” Rin asked, seemingly unsure if she was more shocked about Jane’s hedgehog, or the fact that she had a garden.
And just like that, the crowd at the table settled into a cozy, entertaining conversation about something entirely different. They managed to do this so smoothly, that it never felt like the topic of your boyfriend was something they were purposefully avoiding. You were very grateful for that.
And, more than that, you were grateful to Mia, for dragging you out here tonight. This might have been the first good decision you’d made in a long time.
The next morning, Mia asked you to meet her for brunch, and this time, you didn’t feel the need to come up with an excuse. You’d had fun last night. You thought it’d be nice to see her again today, too.
Needless to say, when you arrived at the coffee shop that morning, what you expected was a cup of hot coffee, and perhaps some nice pancakes. You expected to see more of Mia’s contagious good mood. Perhaps you even expected to see the local cat that loitered outside sometimes, begging to be pet and fed.
You did not, however, expect to see Mingi standing at the far end of the porch outside the coffee shop, dressed in a black coat, looking cold and out-of-place.
Mia saw that you noticed him, but you were not aware that she was even here. You did not hear when she called your name, because Mingi had reacted to it before you could, and when he turned to look at the source of the voice, his eyes had met yours.
You could not hear or see anything when he looked at you.
“Hey!” Mia said again, waving a hand in front of your face and demanding attention.
Finally, you managed to tear your eyes away from Mingi.
“Mia,” you said. “W-what—what the hell?”
“He got in touch with me about a week ago,” she said, throwing Mingi a look over her shoulder. “He said he’s your boyfriend?”
You were not sure how to describe him. “He… he is—he was.”
Your heart – already in a million different pieces – seemed to break a little more when you found yourself using past tense to describe your relationship with Mingi. That did not feel accurate. He was everywhere inside of you – you could not go a single minute without thinking of him – and yet, he wasn’t, exactly, your boyfriend. Not anymore.
“Right. Well, he asked for my help to see you, and at first I thought he might be some abusive freak,” Mia explained. You had to strain your eyes to keep looking at her, instead of allowing your gaze to drift to the boy behind her. “But then yesterday at the bar, you said he was wonderful. And you’re clearly still in love with him, so I just—”
You interrupted, “did I say that?”
Mia gave you a kind smile – the sort you’d give an unknowing toddler who just realised that the reason why his hurt went away was not at all because his mommy had kissed it better.
“Love, you didn’t need to stay anything,” she said patiently, reaching out to touch your arm. “It was so obvious. I’m just sorry I didn’t force you to hang out with me after work earlier.”
She gave your arm an encouraging squeeze. “You should go talk to him.”
You dared to glance at Mingi – he was watching you – and then shook your head.
“I—I can’t do that,” you told her, your feet frozen.
“You don’t have to leave with him. Just talk to him,” Mia said. “He looks like shit. And if he looks like that while he looks like shit, I can’t even imagine what he looks like on a good day. You have good taste.”
A soft chuckle passed your lips at this, and Mia smiled triumphantly, glad to ease your nerves if only for a second.
“Go talk to him, okay?” she said again. “I have your back. I’ll be on the phone with my girlfriend because I suddenly feel the need to tell her how much I love her, but I’m here if you need me.”
Swallowing, you moved your head lightly in what was supposed to be a nod, but you weren’t in control of your body right now. “Yeah, I… hmm.”
Mia gave you a little nudge – literally – and you, tripping slightly, walked towards where Mingi was standing. There were three porch steps separating you from him, but you did not dare to descend and meet him on the pavement of the street.
“Hi,” you said when you reached him. He nearly had a heart attack just at the sound of your voice alone. “How did you know I was here?”
“I… I’ve spent every day looking for you,” Mingi replied as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why did you leave?”
“I had to.”
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. There were many things he wanted to say to you, but he decided that none of them would be good enough. So, he asked, simply, “come back to me.”
You were in pain—terrible, dreadful pain—and you weren’t sure if you could breathe as you asked, almost voicelessly, “what about your—”
“It’s fine,” he cut you off.
Your voice significantly quieter now, you said, “they’ll kill you.”
Mingi shook his head. You didn’t see his hands – he kept them in his coat pockets out of fear that, if he got them out, he’d grab you and never let go – but he clenched them into fists.
“If they ever threaten you again,” he said slowly, “I will kill them first. I’ll do anything—anything—it takes to have you with me again.”
You did not think the pain could get worse, but you were in for a surprise.
You already thought that these months without Mingi were terrible, but somehow, talking to him like this felt a hundred times worse – because you knew he would leave eventually. And then, you would have to go back to a life that you were slowly starting to enjoy. A life without him.
You were afraid to imagine how long it would take you to go back to enjoying it again after today.
“I-I don’t want to see you hurt,” you said, each word cutting your throat like a dagger. “That last night… I—”
“I’m sorry,” Mingi said. He had unconsciously come closer, the tips of his shoes touching the lowest step of the porch. “I promise that was the last time you saw me like that.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can,” he countered, the confidence of his words almost making you shiver. “I’ve fixed it. Everything. There’s no one who would dare to threaten you or me.”
You stayed silent, almost scared that responding to him would somehow erase the meaning of his words and make them not true anymore. But his eyes told you that you shouldn’t have worried about that – it’s been four long months and Mingi had done nothing but work to ensure that you never needed a safe house again.
“I love you,” he said, climbing the first step. “I don’t want to lose you.”
For a moment, the sound of your heartbeat was all you could hear. And, as tears pooled behind your eyes, you realised that there was absolutely no way you were ever going to return to a life you’d lived before he came here.
“I… I love you, too,” you told him and Mingi squeezed his fists in his pockets tighter. He had dreamt of you saying this to him so many nights for the past four months, he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t dreaming now. “I always have. But I—I can’t—”
Taking a second step, he said, “I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting you the way I should have.”
He was still the same. You were the one who left – the one who walked away – and yet he thought it was all his fault.
“But you did—”
“I didn’t,” he did not let you disagree. He was standing so close now, just one more step between you, and that made his words sound more painful. “If I would have, then you’d have never left.”
“I left because I didn’t want you to sabotage everything you’ve worked for because of me,” you told him. “I left because I didn’t want you to be killed.”
“None of that means anything to me without you,” he climbed up the last remaining step and was standing in front of you now – his smell just as intoxicating as it had been four months ago. “I love you. Please don’t walk away from me again.”
In that moment – and in the few minutes preceding it – you knew that your heart had come to a decision for you. It was broken, on crutches, barely beating anymore, but its’ voice was firm – this could not, would not, be the last time you saw him.
“Mingi, I…” you could not hear yourself when you spoke, but he heard every word. “I like it here. I don’t want to leave.”
“I’m not asking you to leave,” he said, getting his hands out of his pockets and then, clumsily, stuffing them back in because he felt too exposed. He already felt awkward enough as he tried to say, “I just—m-maybe I could come visit sometimes? We could go on dates. We haven’t really—we’ve never really done that before.”
Your heart had begun to bang against your chest like it was only starting to pump blood for the first time. Like it was trying to make up for all of those months that it had been idle, leaving you to fend for your own survival.
“Would that be…” you swallowed reflexively, cutting yourself off. Your throat was so dry and your hands were starting to shake. “Could we do that?”
“We could,” Mingi nodded, eager now. “Absolutely. If you’d—if you say yes.”
Overwhelmed, you watched him in silence for a minute.
It would be dangerous. It always was when it came to him. It would be so much safer if the two of you stayed as far away from each other as you could. That was the only way for you to actually survive. For you to live.
And yet, the response that left your lips was simply, “okay.”
All breath knocked out of his lungs as if he’d just finished a marathon and a half, Mingi asked, “yeah? So, can I come pick you up this Friday?”
You felt the butterflies wake up from the dead inside of you. You had expected them to be tentative, to look at this as a test, to hold themselves back – but they dived into your stomach head-first.
“Yeah,” you said, nearly floating. “I get off work at five.”
“Great! I’ll be there,” he promised. And then, getting his hands out of his pockets again – and keeping them out, this time – he added, “I’ve missed you a lot, you know.”
With your eyes still wet, you nodded. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Then, you paused and looked back at Mia, who was sitting at one of the tables on the porch. She caught your gaze and looked away immediately, pretending as though she hadn’t been watching the two of you.
“Would you… like to join us?” you asked Mingi when you looked at him again.
“I—I would,” he admitted and then, most regretfully, he explained, “but I won’t interrupt. Your friend helped me out a lot. She’s a great person, so I want to keep a good image.”
You laughed at this, and he found himself feeling weak in the knees. There were so many things about you that he missed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He didn’t even want to.
“Okay,” you said. “I get it.”
“B-but can I call you?” he asked. “Later tonight?”
It only took you a second before you replied, but his heart had managed to complete four somersaults in the time that he waited.
“Yeah,” you said. “I’d love that.”
“Okay. I love you,” he said and then, unable to resist it any longer, he closed the distance between you by wrapping his arms around you.
His scent engulfed you, along with his coat. This town was chilly, the sun didn’t favor it very much; but as you hugged Mingi back, you finally felt warm. It seemed like for the first time in the four months that you’d been here, your body had stopped shivering.
“I love you, too,” you replied, your fingers clutching the back of his turtleneck, not allowing him to let go – not that he was going to. He’d been dying to touch you for months.
You realised then that you’d been wrong. You wouldn’t live without him. You’d stay alive, maybe. But it wouldn’t be living. And that sort of mere existing that you’d been doing here, for the past four months? No, you’ve had enough of that.
Your heart was finally beating again, but when your chest was pressed against his, you could tell that it had fallen out of rhythm. You needed to fix that.
Pulling away from you -- reluctantly and painfully -- Mingi gave you another look. “I’ll see you this Friday.”
“See you,” you echoed, the same exact longing reflected in your eyes as well as his.
You watched him walk away – and turn around to look at you over his shoulder again and again as he walked – all the way until he disappeared behind the post office at the end of the street.
When you finally returned to Mia, she was smiling.
“Well, how’d that go?” she asked when you sat down opposite her at the table of the coffee shop.
You couldn’t resist smiling back.
“It went well,” you said. “I have a date on Friday night.”
(dm me/send an ask if i forgot you or you’d like to be added ❤️)
Being in love was, of course, very difficult.
Being in love with Jung Wooyoung, world famous idol and professional heartbeaker, was pure torture.
You had been smitten when it came to Wooyoung since the other had been a small boy- a trainee with starry, hopeful eyes and a huge heart with room for seemingly everyone and their grandmothers, figuratively speaking.
Well, he'd welcomed you into his little circle of friends like the avid social butterfly he always was, and gradually, you had met the rest of his groupmates. You were close with all eight of them, but Wooyoung had always been a little more...special.
It wasn't like he'd ever know, though. He couldn't possibly think of you in that way. He'd always been the loud, boisterous and childish type- the type to ignore and see right through romantic feelings even when they came and slapped him in the face. He had, in the wise words of Hermione Granger from Harry Potter, 'the emotional range of a teaspoon.'
Wooyoung had dated before, once or twice, but it had never lasted. He'd always gotten bored of them fast, because he was the type to jump from one thing to another with little regard for consequences. 'Living in the moment'- Wooyoung liked to call it. Some called it being all-over-the-place, but of course, Jung Wooyoung had far too much pride to accept any characteristic of his with the potential to be labelled a flaw.
You saw right through everything.
You saw through the loud, always happy and smiling, bright personality, and you saw who Wooyoung really was. You knew that his fear of the dark was beyond superficial, owing to the fact that the poor boy had actually cuddled with you one night when the power had gone out and he couldn't use his night light. You knew that Wooyoung had gotten his first tattoo on his rib as an ode to his family, and as a reminder to himself to stay sane in the insanely dynamic world of idols. You knew that he had gotten his second on his thigh as a dedicated promise to his best friend- Choi San. You knew that Wooyoung hated crying in front of anyone else, but he often tended to lock himself in the bathroom and let it all out once in a while, emerging with puffy eyes and a fake smile that you and the members could see through at the drop of a hat.
You knew him so well that you could tell the moment something was bothering him, sometimes even before he realised it himself.
And this was definitely one of those times.
Wooyoung seemed quite cheerful on the outside, but you could tell something was wrong. For one thing, Yunho had invited you to watch their practise before Wooyoung had, and Mingi was the one playing footsies with you under the table while the boys took their lunch break.
Wooyoung had been rather absent, since morning. It was evening, and he'd barely said five words to you, apart from the usual 'hello's and 'hi's.
Your suspicions were only confirmed when you noticed Seonghwa getting shrugged off by Wooyoung when the older tried to pull him in for a hug. That was extremely uncharacteristic of Wooyoung, since he was usually the one to run and cling onto his precious Seonghwa-hyung at any given moment.
"Wooyoung?" You called, standing up from your spot, where you had been seated cross-legged on the floor of their practise room.
Wooyoung turned his head, but didn't respond, simply staring blankly at you.
"Is something up?" You asked, walking towards him with a worried glance.
Wooyoung huffed, "None of your business," he snapped, turning away.
Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at the two of you, and then walked over to Wooyoung while you froze in place, shocked by Wooyoung's rude tone. Seonghwa leaned down to whisper something into Wooyoung's ear, smacking him on the arm, at which the younger sighed and turned to face you again, "Fine. Hyung says I should apologize, so I'm sorry."
It was barely sincere enough to count as one, but you would take it.
"Wooyoung, can we talk? You seem off today," you attempted once more, trying to get him to agree so you could fix whatever it was that was bothering him.
"I....look, I just want some space, okay?" Wooyoung sounded overwhelmingly tired, his words mixed in with heavy sighs and downturned lips, "I'll be fine soon enough....I hope."
"Wooyoung-ah, maybe you should listen to her," Seonghwa placed a hand on Wooyoung's shoulder gently, "She always knows how to calm you down."
To everyone's utter shock, Wooyoung slapped Seonghwa's hand off his shoulder none-too-gently and turned glaring eyes on his hyung, who had only been trying to help, "Hyung, just fuck off, okay?! Sometimes I need my personal space, too! Just like the rest of you," he snapped, irritated beyond the invisible line of acceptability. Wooyoung growled in his throat, turning to you, "And you don't try and act like a fucking martyr. I'm done with this." With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, letting the door shut loudly behind him.
One look Seonghwa gave you was enough to send you running after your best friend, following his footsteps and making it to an empty practise room two doors away. Wooyoung seated on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, head weighed down and arms around his knees tightly. He was clearly upset, and that only served to agitate you further.
"Wooyoung?" You tried, walking towards him slowly.
Wooyoung groaned like your very presence bothered him, looking pointedly away from you, "Go away."
"Hey, you don't have to say anything to me, but you were rude to your hyung. He deserves an apology."
Wooyoung whipped his head towards you, and you gasped, taken aback at the sight of his teary eyes.
"Oh god, Wooyoung, what's wrong?"
Wooyoung sniffed and wiped at his eyes, before directing a glare onto your face, keeping it stationary even as you moved to sit in front of him on your heels, brows furrowed with worry and confusion.
"Nothing that matters to you."
"Don't be like that," you chided, poking his arm gently, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
It hurt more because you were in love with him. Everything about him mattered to you, everything little thing right from whether he got enough sleep to whether his earrings matched his outfit. Everything about Wooyoung was intruiging and important to you. But Wooyoung had no idea. He didn't know any of that, and he assumed that he was as important to you as anybody else, which couldn't be further from the truth.
"I can't tell you this. You'd hate me if I did." His voice sounded so small and timid that it was almost strange to hear such a tone from him, since he was usually loud and cheerful.
You wanted to tell him so badly.
"I won't hate you," you insisted, "I can't hate you, Wooyoung."
Wooyoung looked down, sighing, "Maybe not, but you can't love me either, can you?" He whispered under his breath, but you caught it. You caught every word of it.
Oh my god.
"Wha- Wooyoung? What are you talking about?"
Wooyoung's eyes widened, and he curled further into himself, shaking his head indignantly, "Nothing. I didn't say anything. Just leave me alone."
"Are you serious? You think I don't love you?" You had to hold back a gasp because of how shocked you were at the admission.
Wooyoung knew you loved him. Of course he knew that. Why would he ever doubt it?
"Not like I want you to," Wooyoung grumbled, still looking down, "You never will. But that's okay. Just don't judge me for it, I guess."
"You're not kidding me right now?" You asked him incredulously, "You- you love me?"
Wooyoung lifted his head slowly, meeting your sincere gaze with his own, "I'm in love with you," he stated, before his bottom lip trembled, and he caught it with his teeth, the tiny beauty spot on it visible, "But it's okay if you don't say anything. I'm just- I'm a little pissed bceause I realized only yesterday that pining after you is going to get me nowhere. I'd rather just try and get over my stupid feelings on my own than-"
"No," you interrupted him, shifting closer and placing your hands on his shoulders gently, "Stop talking right now."
"Sorry," Wooyoung frowned.
"No, don't apologise either," you began to get glossy-eyed, heart racing at the realisation of what was happening, "You’re seriously love me?" You asked again, just to be sure.
Wooyoung glared, "Way to rub it in."
You couldn't help the slow smile that spread over your face as you shook your head, "No, no oh my god, I'm just- wow, this is wow. How long have you liked me like that?"
Wooyoung huffed, "I dunno, a couple months? Why does that even matter? And why are you smiling? Is this funny to you?!"
You just let out a chuckle, "We're both hopeless," you breathed, shifting and guiding Wooyoung's legs down so you could see him better, "Fuck, Wooyoung, I love you too," you confessed, still smiling widely because you couldn't stop it, "I've been in love you since forever, oh my god."
Wooyoung's jaw dropped, and you gleefully watched the realisation set in.
"You- we- so we're like, in love with each other?!"
You nodded slowly, pulling his hands into yours, "I guess so."
You watched Wooyoung expression morph slowly from bewilderment to relief to curiosity. Then, he opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again on deciding what he wanted to say, "So what happens now?"
You shrugged, staring back at him and wondering how he was so effortlessly handsome, "I don't know. Where do you want this to go? "
Wooyoung took a deep breath, before nodding to himself, "Go on a date with me," he said with conviction, sounding hopeful.
Your heart thumped wildly, and you could hardly believe that the words you were hearing were real.
"Am I dreaming?" You blurted, pinching yourself on the arm and giggling when it hurt, "Nope, you really are asking me out, aren't you?"
Wooyoung nodded with a pretty, sunshine smile, "I am."
Of course, your answer was pre-determined.
"Yeah, I'll go out with you," you said brightly, "Sounds great."
Wooyoung smiled, "I was so nervous, you know? But now that you said yes, it's a lot more ...easy. And real."
You nodded, agreeing, "I know what you mean."
"You know what would make this better?"
Wooyoung grinned mischievously, "If you were to kiss me right now."
You laughed, nodding and moving forward to cup Wooyoung's cheeks in your hands, pulling him in for a chaste, quick kiss. His lips were soft, and he let you take the lead without protest, complacently moving his lips over yours.
Your heartbeat only became faster, and you were sure you were about to burst when Wooyoung finally pulled away, smiling widely and bumping your nose with his childishly .
"That was nice."
Wooyoung pouted, "Okay, 'nice' is not good enough for me," he crossed his legs and patted his lap, "Come sit here so I can kiss you properly."
You giggled, crawling into his lap and throwing your arms around his neck, feeling the safest you could ever be in his arms. Wooyoung gave you a soft smile, hands encircling your waist and settling on your spine, before urging you to lean in for another kiss, this time filled with a lot more intent and feeling, sending tingles throughout your body.
You smiled against his mouth and deepened the kiss shyly, hands moving to cup his neck and thumb over his jawline gently, pulling away for breath and resting your foreheads together. Your breath fanned over his face, feeling light-headed after the sweet, intimate kiss.
"Fuck, I love you," Wooyoung whispered lowly.
The words sent a welcome shiver down your spine, and your heart jumped excitedly, trying to beat its way out of your ribcage.
"I love you too, Wooyoung."
The smile that lit up his face on hearing those words rivaled the most precious treasures of the world, and you wanted to take a picture to make the beautiful sight ingrained in your mind.
But then Wooyoung leaned in and kissed you again, and your mind lost all ability to process thoughts.
The trail of miscellaneous items continued to pleasure your body. Some of which were ice, a vibrator, his tongue, his lips, and now his fingers. When you agreed to be blindfolded, you didn’t think it would come with this much teasing. Hongjoong’s fingers skimmed over your body softly, first trailing towards your lips for you to give them a light suck before you let go with a pop, then to your breasts where they perfectly were cupped into his hands, fingers grazing the nipples, the soft hands then traveled down to the neediest part of your body grazing over your wetness making you whimper. His cold hands felt like they were all over your body, the blindfold making your senses hyphenated. Your body jolted up as two of his cold fingers went into your wet heat, the sensation making you clench easily. Hongjoong smirked going up to you proudly kissing the shell of your ear making you tremble. “Baby, I’ve already made you cum twice before with my tongue and ice, and you’re still wanting more, I guess the blindfold worked. You’re close to cumming already, and I haven’t even fucked you yet, I wonder how many times I can make you cum before you cum on my dick.” Hongjoong told you making you whimper and whine, this is gonna be a long night.
I gritted my teeth and covered every fiber of my being with the deteriorating wool coat that loosely hangs on me as I solely guide myself towards my apartment in the middle of this freezing December breeze, limping and catching my breath prominent enough for bystanders and sales clerks to look at me with their worried and frightful eyes; fucking cowards. Showing no remorse or decency whatsoever towards a fellow species of theirs passing by with a shit ton of blood trailing behind them, but what's the use? This is what the big leagues want us to enforce and apply in our mindset anyways; "People who don't abide to the norms of society are outcasts, hopeless, harmful and have no rightful place in this universe."
I've been treated like shit for how many years but I never complained even once, why you may ask? Because I saw no point in doing so, the prejudiced thoughts of me have been imbedded in everyone's brain so deeply that it's hard for them to even look at me straight in the eye and even bear to hear me out and comfort me let alone treat me as if I wasn't by their side when they needed it the most. I was once a decent human too and lived like how normal people would, treated everyone fairly and gave everything I got just to see them smile, but now as I deteriorate into a lifeless form with people putting words into my mouth and trigger me to do the unthinkable, those same people vanish into thin air.
Finally my legs gave up on me and I immediately ended up dropping on the gray pavement, hearing people gasp all around and huddle on over where I was laying. I watched as each of them circled me and looked at me like I was a crying infant reaching for their mother in their crib, whispering and signaling officials to hurry on over. I let out a breathy laugh and turned my head towards the left, letting blood ooze out from my mouth as I slowly close my eyes, breathe in and speak for one last time.
PAIRING: basketball player! ateez' jeong yunho x reader | featuring basketball players! ateez, blackpink's jisoo and lisa | fictional character named seunghee
GENRE: narration/written series, fluff, light angst
SUMMARY: you were court phobic– if that was a thing. you don't know what you were doing inside one now, though. may it be your friends successfully convincing you to go to one, you didn't care. you just wanted out, but you didn't want to ruin the fun your friends had you've finally watched a basketball game with them. worse comes to worst, your school's rival's player takes interest in you.
It was bad.
It was bad yearning for the attention Yunho gave you even after everything he did– well, not everything. Even though he did a lot of good things to you, helping you with your fears, with just one dumb move from him, your heart was broken.
And even in pieces, it yearned for Yunho as you stared outside your room’s window, his familiar form waiting on the sheds to protect himself from the sunlight.
Just like any other day.
A month has passed, yet there he was, waiting for you to let him explain his side you were never ready to hear.
“Should we.. take the gates at the back?” Jisoo nudges you, noticing your eyes that stayed on Yunho who quietly sat there like how he did when he waited for you the first time. His legs dangling, his eyes looking around in hopes of seeing you. The only thing that changed was the smile on his face, it was long gone.
And feel slightly sorry for thinking it was because of your fault.
“Jung Wooyoung,” Lisa squints her eyes at the man who tailed the three of you to the burger place you were talking about earlier. “Don’t you have any friends in your school?”
“Me? I have many,” Wooyoung shrugs, taking the bag you were holding. Before you could protest, he was already walking in front of you, walking backwards– reminding you of Yunho’s habits. “Am I here for you? No. I’m here for y/n,” Wooyoung sticks his tongue out to Lisa who only scoffed at the childishness.
But Lisa doesn’t back down so she untangles from your arm and runs to catch Wooyoung, leaving you with Jisoo.
You just chuckle, shaking your head as you let Jisoo take Lisa’s place.
“Are you doing fine?” Jisoo starts, glancing at you. You just give her a sigh and a nod, looking down. You’ve told them only a brief of what happened, not wanting to relive what you had seen from the party.
Jisoo nods and keeps quiet, not wanting to keep on doting on you.
“Ah shit,” You mumbled, fumbling with the things on your bag finding your chem book.
“Is something wrong?” Lisa, diagonal from you, worriedly looks at you. It catches Wooyoung’s attention, who was beside Lisa and in front of you, even Jisoo who was beside you.
“We’ve got a chem exam tomorrow. I forgot to bring it with me,” You sigh, looking at them. “Can I head back for a minute? I promise to be back as soon as I can,” You were already standing up, fixing your things.
“I’ll go with you,” Wooyoung offers, but you shake your head.
“I’ll be back, Wooyoung. I’m just getting my book,” You chuckle, dismissing him. “I’ll leave everything here– my phone, wallet and things. You don’t have to worry about me not coming back,” You tease, jogging out of the restaurant after you persuaded Wooyoung.
Mindlessly walking back to the university, your feet continued to kick the same rock all over again, until it bumped to the same pair of shoes you’ve been continuously avoiding.
You didn’t think he’d still be here.
“y/n..” He whispers, but you didn’t bat an eye and stepped aside, entering the gates in a rush to stop him from saying more.
A sigh just repeatedly flows out of your lips as you walk to your locker, your eyes unconsciously trailing to the big windows to see if he was still there, only to be greeted by a small grumble of the thunder.
You look at the sky lifelessly, seeing it turn to a darker color than when you were out a while ago. Huffing out as you trail your eyes back to your locker, you wonder if Yunho had any umbrella to start off when you didn’t even know it was going to rain.
Pondering, you finally grab your umbrella and closed the locker quite harshly before you even change your mind.
Seeing his back waiting for you, your heart beat as if you did a lap around the university.
It hurt that in such a short period of time, with what Yunho showed you before the party you were so sure Yunho was sincere. His feelings were genuine. But with just one mistake– that you didn’t even know if it was, and you weren’t ready to hear if it was, everything was crumbling down, confusing.
It was the girl he once loved so dearly, after all.
“Jeong Yunho,” You watch him stand up faster than anything you’ve seen, tucking his hands on his pockets.
His lips pressed to a thin line, eyes looking everywhere and from time to time to your eyes– one of the habits he’s shown when he’s anxious.
You quietly hand him the umbrella, planning to leave afterward before the rain even starts but when he pulls you by the arm to stop you, you let him drag you under the shed.
“I need to go,” You try to shake your arm away from him, wanting to leave.
“Please hear me out just once, y/n. I won’t do anything, just please.. Listen.” He pleads, eyes glossy as he holds both of your arms.
Your eyes were dead.
It wasn’t the same eyes Yunho saw at the beach, it being the last time he saw you like that.
He was sorry, so desperately sorry he broke you more than you ever were.
“You don’t have to,” At this point, you didn’t even know why you still had the energy to give him a smile.
“I want to,” Yunho retorts, his eyes begging.
“Do it next time, then. I need to go. You need to go. It’s going to rain soon,” You hesitate whether to pat his arm, desperately wanting to leave or you’d just have to break down in front of him.
“It was a mistake, y/n. Seunghee.. Came back. She thought I was still waiting for her and.. I’m sorry. It wasn’t.. Just her fault. It was mine too. I don’t know from what to what you’ve seen that night but.. I’m sorry. I just–,” You swore you’ve never seen Yunho so disgruntled and stumbling with his words, so you stop him with a hold on his hand.
“I really need to go,” You say, rather than it’s okay, because it isn’t. You can’t process anything he’s saying now, nor will you soon when you’re trashed with so many academic priorities. It was partly your fault too for taking into account what your feelings for the man are despite knowing it’s consequences.
“y/n,” Whipping your head behind you, you see Wooyoung standing outside the shed under the umbrella, protecting himself from the shower rain that had already started.
Sighing, you looked down as you retract your hands from Yunho’s hold, shooting him another small smile before you walked to Wooyoung.
“Let’s go,” You quietly said, tugging on Wooyoung’s arm as you shared the umbrella.
Wooyoung just nods at Yunho, even though Yunho wasn’t looking at him.
Yunho was looking at you.
And maybe it was how his world stopped rotating, how his heart stopped when you walked away from him.
Maybe it was how he felt so heartbroken that he made you walk out on him twice.
t/w: angst? Strong language here and there/ bullying(i don't condone any of the shits)
A/N: This is one of my many firsts. My first post. First fanfic. First fanfic for Ateez. K, maybe not many but would mean a lot if you leave comments about what you liked and all... I'm still new to tumblr so... yeah.... thank you for reading the note! Enjoy?
"Y/N! Can you come here for a sec?"
Leaving your post at the counter, you moved to the back of the bakery. The part time job was never your requirement but one of your many hobbies. Plus the extra cash helped.
"Yes, sir?" You poked your head from through the door. The manager was nowhere to be found and in his stead was standing a young man. His son.
"Mr. Park?" You walked in to see the manager crouching in front of the tall shelf at the end of the room. Without even acknowledging the prodigy, you crouched beside the man, startling him.
"Ah, you came. Can you do me a favour?" The sweet smile in addition to the question was hard to reject. Bobbing your head slightly, you stood up with him.
Pointing at his son, he started, "Y/N, you know my son, right? Seonghwa? Workes here for a bit during your vacation, my boy." You just nodded your head at the knowing knowledge, still not looking at him. You could practicay feel him staring you down but you stood your ground.
"Help him with some studies, can you? You don't have to come here on weekends and your pay won't change. Hell, I'll pay you extra to tutor him. What do you say?" Mr. Park's voice was dropping into despair with each word and you wanted to say no. But you stood your ground.
"Sir, I love working here and I respect you more than life, but I'll have to turn down the offer." You plainly said, making sure to make eye contact with your boss.
Your response, like expected, had shaken both of them. The boy, who had thought you would meekly agree to the request, was challenging you to a stare down with his piercing gaze. Meanwhile his father had his eyebrows drawn together infinitely painted with a frown on his pouty lips.
"But why? Y/N, my dear, please. I'll pay you extra, my child. Why would you say no? I thought you liked teaching children. Believe me when I say you'll be teaching a lot to this boy right here. He knows nothing. Please?" The pouty lips had mysteriously reddened and the voice had the disparity in them increased. This, you could not say no to. One of the many things that you make you melt were your boss's old wrinkly face mixed with desperation.
Heaving a sigh, you left the room with a frown etched on your face and a content smile on your boss's face. The working hours had ended 15 minutes ago and packing everything had never felt so time-consuming. Even more when you have a boy glaring at the side of your head.
And finally, he seemed to realize that he had a working vocal cord and a mouth.
"Why did you say no?" The deep voice send shivers but your spine chose to stay straight. Making strong eye contact, you replied in the most cold voice you could muster in the moment.
"Cause I wanted to. Baby." Stressing the second word had never felt so good before. The guilt on Seonghwa's face came as fast as the words left your lips and his eyes found a newfound interest in the checkered tiles. Avoiding his body, you ducked your way out of the back door and walked towards your car parked at the lot.
"Y/N! You know I was joking! Why are you being like this?!" His booming voice filled the parking lot. The footsteps were right behind you now yet now didn't turn.
"Y/N. You know why I have to do that, right?" The boy you loved was standing behind you. Your quivering lips were betraying your strong and already made up mind. Taking a deep breath to steady your voice, you answered his question.
"Yeah. That's why I'm gonna make a decision for you." Turning around, you dropped the sign of your love with him and got into your car. Seonghwa had his head down, body shaking and tears streaming down his sculptured face but that didn't let you change your decision.
"Why?!" The question was dumb to ask but you couldn't help it anymore. Just because you studied and didn't party didn't mean that anyone should fill your textbooks with paint all inside. Ruining your hardwork was the favourite past time and seeing your bruised body after 'accidently' falling down the stairs was amusing to them. That didn't hurt.
What hurt was that your boyfriend use to stand with them and let them take their fun at your risk. Bandaging your bruises was his way to say sorry. Forgiving him was your way to remind yourself that you only have him.
But enough was enough. Putting rotten fish in front of your apartment and bursting the tires of your already broken car was not funny anymore.
Maybe you weren't cut for fairy tale romance. Maybe love wasn't for nerds like you. Maybe what Seonghwa and you had was not love.
Should I write a part 2? If I get 10 or more notes, I'll write a part 2!
genre: fantasy au, soulmate au, fluff, angst, suggestive
synopsis: 8 Faerie Princes ruling over the planet of Mirinae, their lives disrupted when Prince Seonghwa of Dark starts to dream of getting killed by the hands of his own friend he'd call brother- Prince Hongjoong of Dark. Is that a premonition? Is the girl he sees in his dream, an incredibly familiar face, the one person the Princes have been searching for since decades? What if Prince San encounters that girl on chance and finds her power to be extremely unique but familiar as well? Could she be the lost twin, one half to the Kang siblings, the Princess of Space? Join Yena's journey as she discovers her true self, getting rid of the block to her memory and magic, finding friends and her soulmate along the way, love so powerful it survives multiple timelines.
I own this map btw. The Kingdoms in red are basically Ateez members’ star signs. Since Seonghwa and Yunho both are Aries, they share the kingdom. Hamal and Sheratan are one of the stars in the Aries constellation, so they’re like states. As for Castor and Pollux- Gemini is the star of twins, so it is divided into two as well. So basically, star sign = kingdom, stars in their constellation = states/cities, birthstones = their designated seas. River Noor- Noor means light, and that Kingdom belongs to the Prince of Light. River Al Ard- River of Earth. It runs through the Kingdom of Earth, Nature and Air. This was the planet Mirinae (Mirinae is Korean for the Milky Way, don’t judge me) designed by me.
Seonghwa was very, very excited to have a go at song-writing. The question really stands, however: how will it go?
Park Seonghwa / Jung Wooyoung.
Very light angst and is formed platonically.
• Author’s note:
I wrote this on AO3 and decided to post it here as well! I used to previously delete all my works I wrote, but unless there’s a particular work I’m really not happy with and really want to just delete, I won’t be doing that anymore (unless there’s some sort of reason I decide to delete it).
I hope you all enjoy this! This was kind of rushed, but I’m hoping the results of this are good nonetheless. The idea was fun to do. ♡
Patience and composure wasn't going to well for Seonghwa right now. He was awfully aware of it. Awfully aware of how his frustration was slowly and gradually rising every time he attempted to at least write seven words, the words less than half way from filling the first line of his page but then having to flip his pencil and erase what he had wrote because what he had wrote was simple and was completely trash compared to what he had in mind and wanted to have wrote. The ideas aren't flowing to him like he would have wanted or like he had imagined numerous times before actually having the time to sit down and begin his effort of hopefully writing a song. This frustration of Seonghwa's had no intentions of going, not until Seonghwa at least wrote a few lines that he did feel satisfied with. When would that happen? Seonghwa genuinely wasn't sure it would happen any time soon. The thought increased his annoyance.
It was stupidly bothering how he found himself struggling to just write a simple line. Perhaps, if he was just able to write a single line, he'd feel more encouraged and relieved. A successful line would be a good head-start. In this moment though, Seonghwa could only dream. It would be great if Seonghwa was able to come up with lines he felt content and pleased with, but it just didn't seem like his mind wanted to function properly to form good ideas.
So, yes, Seonghwa was close to screaming.
And, yes, it was correct that patience and composure didn't seem to be very suitable with him right now. Very correct.
The thought seemed to fumbling and spinning in his mind, almost similar to a washing machine. Why couldn't he just write good lines down? Just a single line right now would make him feel rather happy and relieved. Isn't it so simple? Why is he finding it so difficult? Just write a fucking line down.
Replacing his focus back on the plain and empty page of his notebook entirely, he threw himself back against his chair as he kept himself silent. He breathed in with his eyes softly closed and as he did so, tears were released before he exhaled with just as much softness as when he inhaled. The saltwater fell onto Seonghwa's cheeks wetly, and all Seonghwa could say was that he was really...really frustrated. A small part of him - which he didn't focus on since there was no exactly necessary reason to - was in some sort of way surprised. He was surprised at how affected he was at the situation of not being able to think of lyrics. He wasn't able to achieve that and that didn't frame disappoint in a way that didn't matter to the vocalist. He genuinely felt excitement to attempt this and the results were such a fail. That impacted with a lot of matter to Seonghwa in ways that maybe wouldn't with some others. It did matter.
Shrugging it off as if it didn't felt wrong to the pink-haired male.
That was likely to sound more than just sensitive, but it was the way the boy uncontrollably felt.
Seonghwa felt the ticklish sensation of his tears taking their time to stroll down Seonghwa's face and features until they were met with his chin. It was done purposely when he ignored the feeling. Instead, he focused on the silence that kept itself continuing within the space of his shared room Hongjoong (which honestly should be his own room and everyone practically thinks that by now) and kept any other noice out of his senses of hearing. Their journey of trickling down his face was over as they dropped from Seonghwa's chin. His emotions were full of annoyance and frustration. The fact that his frustration brought him to literal tears was one of the worst feelings.
A part of Seonghwa did feel slightly embarrassed-
"Hyuuuuung, everyone's being so booorring watching that lame show, so I decided to come spend some time with my favourite hyung!"
Before Seonghwa knew it, Wooyoung was pulling his spinny chair away from underneath the desk just enough for him to fit his way onto his targeted location and was putting his entire bodyweight on top of Seonghwa's lap without a single care in the world. It was a very Wooyoung thing for Wooyoung to do, so even in Seonghwa's moment of certain frustration, he couldn't feel any emotion of surprise.
"Hyung, I-" The younger begins to say as he faces the older but subconsciously brings a halt to what he planned to say when seeing the look and wet marks of tears against the face of his eldest hyung, "...missed you...hey..."
It was instant reaction for Seonghwa to turn his face, blushing with evident embarrassment, his expression showing a clear response to the notice of his tears.
Seonghwa didn't have anything time to wipe his tears, rub his eyes or do anything he needed to do so that he didn't look suspicious nor upset, and most importantly, so that he didn't look like he had teared up. Not when Wooyoung had barged into the room, leaving no room for any potential protests and had situated himself onto the male's lap. The older of the pair felt immensely embarrassed to know Wooyoung caught the fact he had let out a few tears. It especially feels embarrassing for him when he knows the actual and real reason he had gotten to that state, so it was immediate that Seonghwa turned his head and completely avoided letting the younger see him.
The way Wooyoung instantly showed Seonghwa all his care and concern, placing both of his palms over Seonghwa's firm shoulders as he fixed his sight on the older intently made the blush the pink-haired male had sink deeper into his soft cheeks. It was nowhere near possible for the male's blushing not to be seen.
"Wooyoung, I-I'm fine. This is-this is really embarrassing-"
"If you're upset, Seonghwa, nothing is embarrassing. Nothing is embarrassing if something has made you unhappy. So, please don't say that." Wooyoung answered with nothing but seriousness in his tone. The sincerity and sternness in the younger's entire tone caught Seonghwa off guard certainly. When such a loud and extroverted boy such as Wooyoung suddenly becomes more serious and is more genuine with their seriousness, it's ordinary to feel more naturally serious as well. It feels different when someone with those characteristics takes the more mature and humourless role.
The utter care and softness in the younger's voice made Seonghwa oddly stiffen his body just slightly, feeling the opposite of expectant to be treated so gently in this moment.
"Can you look at me, hyung?" Wooyoung questioned, placing his hands closer to each side of Seonghwa's smooth neck, faintly cupping the area. There was noticeable hesitancy, but Wooyoung watched as the other complied at his soft ask. Seonghwa eventually turned his head, avoiding setting his gaze on Wooyoung completely. Wooyoung closely noticed that but kept silent on it. It just wasn't necessary to be vocal about at all.
"Did the song-writing not go too well?"
"It went awful! I wasn't even able to come up with a single line! It's meant to be such a simple thing, yet I struggled with it so much! I was just so frustrated...I really wanted to do this and do it well..."
Seonghwa didn't acknowledge or question in the moment about how Wooyoung knew what happened and knew why he was so upset and frustrated in this moment. That was the very least of his worries currently and was the last thing he was thinking about. There was one thing the male wanted to do; that one thing was just to vent out the rage of his feelings.
"Seonghwa, may I ask you a question?" The younger questioned.
Slightly taken aback by the randomness of Wooyoung's words, Seonghwa subconsciously found himself meeting the gaze of the other male sitting on top of his lap. When Wooyoung let out a knowing smile at him before starting to speak again, it was then that he had realised what he had finally done.
Despite no answer from Seonghwa, Wooyoung proceeded with what he originally had in mind and had planned to say, "Hyung, you can't be perfect at something you've just tried. No one is going to be amazing at something they've never done before and are trying for their first time. You can't hold that expectation of yourself. I get it probably disappointed you a lot. We all knew and still know you were really excited to do this, but it's okay! It's not like you can never try doing this again. Song-writing isn't the easiest thing, Hwa. It's not going to be a perfect process. Not everything turns out awesome, and that really is okay. You can always try again."
Silence was the only exchange of a response Wooyoung received after tenderly voicing what he felt like Seonghwa desperately needed to hear. However, by the look he watched across Seonghwa's expression, the silence was nothing bad at all. From what Wooyoung could perceive the older's expression as, it was as if the other was trying to let the mini meaningful speech sink in. And, that was exactly what the case was.
Seonghwa situated his gaze a little lower, no longer keeping his sight physically on Wooyoung as the words processed through his mind.
A couple of seconds went by, no more than six, and Seonghwa rose his gaze back on Wooyoung just like it previously was.
A brighter look, something that was just more overall brighter, was floating through Seonghwa's round eyes. The way Wooyoung could genuinely see it made an unmanageable smile break out from him. It was a look he loved and wanted to see, especially after seeing how frustrated the older was in himself.
"I'm liking the look I'm seeing." Seonghwa and Wooyoung both shared a little laugh and giggle at the truthful comment which included a smile that could clearly be heard through his voice.
Seonghwa proceeded to speak after the little moment of exchanging a laugh, "You're right. I know you're right. I just...I was excited and the way my mind just came up with absolutely nothing frustrated me...a little too much, I guess you could say. I'm still a little disappointed, but as you said, it's not like I can't try again. It's not something that is gonna go perfectly in the first few times I give it a try. It takes effort...and patience and practice. Gosh, I'm such an idiot-"
"Mehhh, yeah, sometimes."
"Excuse me?!" The older defensively said with humour, slapping Wooyoung's shoulder faintly as a comical scolding which definitely caused Wooyoung to laugh. That high-pitched, hyena-like laugh. The laugh and sound that practically fills the entire room every single day. The sound that was music to Seonghwa's ears.
"You're not an idiot, Seonghwa, though. Well, most of the time you aren't," Another laugh is quickly followed when the older pretends to hit Wooyoung as a warning causing Wooyoung to lightly flinch naturally, "but you aren't, hyung. You just had your little moment, and that's okay, because there isn't a single person that exists that doesn't have their little moment either. Don't beat yourself up over it. Come back to trying this again tomorrow, maybe. The ideas will eventually come to you."
Seonghwa nods, facing Wooyoung with a deep and sincere look. While no words were being vocalised, Wooyoung knew Seonghwa was appreciative of this. Seonghwa was grateful for Wooyoung giving his attention and time to comfort and reassure him. And, Wooyoung knew that very well.
If Seonghwa were to say this didn't help him, what a liar he would be.
Seonghwa opens his arms in a swift movement and leans in, his arms embracing a familiar body frame that was Wooyoung's. A tight hug like that set warmth through Wooyoung, which the younger couldn't control himself from grinning ear to ear at. The hug was immediately returned.
"Thank you." The soft whisper came from the oldest between the cuddled pair.
"Anytime, hyung." The soft reply came from the youngest next.
"Just remember this, hyung. Everyone struggles, and that's okay.”
⤍ SUMMARY. the boys of ateez vs not being given attention. 1,6k words :)
⤍ READER. they/them pronouns. no physical features described.
⤍ THEMES. boyfriend!ateez, bulleted reaction fic, most r uni/college!au
⤍ WARNINGS. brief mention of food.
⤍ NOTE. huge thanks to my best friend (and crush) for being the inspiration for this! love you to bits<3 also this is my first fic on here !! pls enjoy ^v^
⤍ REMINDER. feedback is always appreciated! pls reblog if you enjoy & leave notes in tags, comments, or ask box <3 have a lovely day :)
this fic + its contents belong to @h5ngjoong . do not translate, repost, etc.
⊹₊ ⋆ hongjoong ! ꜜ
ahhhh our precious leader <3
usually he's okay with you not giving him a ton of attention
he'll just kind of do his own thing while he waits for you to be done with whatever's occupying you
but if you spend more than like ... three hours without even looking at him, he will start pouting
he'll poke at your side, whine out your name; pretty much anything that'll get your attention
and when that doesn't work-
he'll pull out the big guns:
stealing whatever's distracting you, running into the bathroom, and locking the door
slightly unorthodox, sure, but it works
y'know .. until you're banging on the door yelling at him and asking for your stuff back
he'll wait out your shouts until you've calmed down to unlock the door
then obviously you'll storm in and snatch your things away out of his tiny hands
but you know what it means when he takes your stuff, and you'll put it away for a little while and give him the attention he wants
he hates when you have to finish what you were doing :(
but he'll be patient and wait till you're finished :)
because it means that he has you for as long as he wants :)
⊹₊ ⋆ seonghwa ! ꜜ
this boy is the absolute KING at being annoying
especially when he's not getting what he wants
if he wants your attention, he will do anything to get it
sometimes, of course, he'll simply wait out whatever you're doing and then ask for a hug, which usually turns into him holding you for hours on end
but if you're doing something that he knows will take a long time, he hates that
with his entire soul
he'll sit on the floor beside you
rest his chin on your knee
put on the pretty little puppy eyes
for as long as he needs to.
man has no hesitation
sometimes you'll push him away and tell him to leave you be
of course that upsets him even more
once you had so much homework that he paid wooyoung to do most of it so that he could spend more time with you
honestly, it depends on the situation, but he'll get his way somehow
⊹₊ ⋆ yunho ! ꜜ
pls this angel :(
he's so precious
he goes out and buys your favourite snacks, grabs a blanket, and waddles over to your desk with those things in-hand
he'll drape the blanket over your shoulders and set your goodies on the table
of course he won't go anywhere without giving your forehead a gentle kiss
"let me know if you need anything, love"
and he loves when you just smile up at him, mumble out a tiny 'thank you', and return to your work
he'll sit in the room with you or just outside in the living room with his bandmates
if you call for him, you'd bet he'd be in there within seconds
he of course loves the little moments when you ask him for more water, or just for him to talk to you while you take a break
there could be hours between times when he sees you because you're working so hard
but he's so proud of you
and he's so understanding
his favourite part of a long study day is when you finally finish :( and you walk over to him all sleepy :(
you'll plop into his lap with your arms around his neck, and snuggle into him before drifting into a light sleep
your time apart just makes him more grateful for the time you spend together <3
⊹₊ ⋆ yeosang ! ꜜ
this kid. is so dramatic.
you look away for him for fifteen seconds and he starts the show
he'll dramatically gasp, put one hand over his heart and the other against his forehead, and let out a loud sigh
"y/n has fallen out of love with me! jongho, please, tell me, whatever will i do?"
jongho is just like ???
"dude they're just on their phone-"
and obviously yeosang takes that as a sign of betrayal
"what? are you having an affair, y/n? with jongho, of all people?"
he's just teasing but the reaction is always pure gold
when you look up at him with an expression that reads 'wtf', he can't help but crack a smile
but now he's dedicated to the bit and he must continue
"y/n, please, tell me it's not true!" he'll cry out
this usually gets everyone's attention and you can't help but fuel the fire
"i'm... i'm sorry, yeosang... it's true..."
he shouts out in fake but entirely convincing pain
"NO! IT CANNOT BE-"
now you're both yelling
"I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM, YEOSANG"
jongho is still sitting next to you both like 🧍
looking over at him makes yeosang crack and he starts laughing, making you laugh too
this is like a weekly occurrence so you'd assume everyone would be used to it, but no
eventually you'll both calm down, yeosang will explain for the nth time that it's a joke, and then he'll lean over and kiss your cheek
of course, not without rolling his eyes and muttering out a "i deserve more attention"
⊹₊ ⋆ san ! ꜜ
he'll try to do things to pass the time
he'll do a v-live, maybe shop online or cook with some of the other boys
nothing really compares to things he could be doing with you
everything is better when you're with him
his words, not yours
he has to remind himself, 'they're busy, i shouldn't bother them'
but he really wants to
part of him wants to take your work away, throw it in the trash, and steal you away into his bed
he genuinely considers holding you hostage until your teachers stop giving you so much work
if he doesn't give in to his attention-craving ways, he'll just kinda wander around the dorm looking for something to do
someone will probably ask if he wants to play a video game or something
but he'll just kinda frown and say "y/n is doing homework :("
and everyone will know what's going on and why he's all sad
when you finally finish what you're doing and emerge from your shared bedroom - the one that'd previously become a dark cave of lofi and stupid amounts of essays - he'll get super excited
you think you look like a mess - very clearly sleep deprived, hungry, slightly stressed and very overworked
but he'll still get very excited
he'll run over to you with a huge smile plastered on his face, kiss your forehead, give you a hug, and ask what you want to do to relax
anything you say will be done immediately
⊹₊ ⋆ mingi ! ꜜ
a sweetheart :(
most of the time he'll just sit next to you at the dining table, playing on his phone while absentmindedly fidgeting with your hand
he'll play with the sleeve of your sweater if you're wearing one
occasionally he'll ask to paint your nails to match his
if you're doing something that requires you to be typing, he'll pull his chair closer to yours and rest his chin on your shoulder
he always makes sure he isn't disruptive so that you do your best
every hour or so he'll ask how it's going, if you need help and whatnot
he'll bring you a small snack and a cup of water
and he'll remind you to take a break for a little bit
sometimes he'll offer to let you do his hair, or his makeup, etc
whatever you're up for as long as you take a minute away from your work
he really just loves taking care of you :(
and he loves watching your face light up when he kisses your nose and tells you that he's proud of you
you're rly just the light of his life :((
⊹₊ ⋆ wooyoung ! ꜜ
someone please teach this kid some manners
he's so annoying
you have to quite literally lock yourself in your bedroom in order to get anything done
be it at your apartment or at the dorm, he will sit beside you and ramble about everything that's ever happened to him for hours if you let him be in the same room as you when you're working
so you'll lock the door to whatever room you decide to work in
and ask the boys to entertain him
and they'll always text you saying things like "he won't stop whining about you being in your room" and "pls come get your kid"
after a few hours he'll just get all pouty and sit in the corner
if anyone tries to talk to him he'll cross his arms over his chest and turn away
basically a tall toddler when you're not around
but once you're finally done he'll be like :D
he gets super excited and follows you around
he'll hold your hand or hug you
no matter what, he's touching you somehow
poor boy just missed you :((
⊹₊ ⋆ jongho ! ꜜ
he's usually the one ignoring you let's be honest
but if you do get caught up in something he won't notice
he'll be confused if you get quiet
probably will (sarcastically) ask if you're cheating on him
gets more confused when you don't answer
doesn't realize you're wearing headphones and continues to ask questions
"who is it?" "y/n are you being serious-"
then when you finally notice he's talking you'll turn to him and pull out an earbud
"i didn't hear you sorry"
the look in his face
in his head he's just 🧍🧍🧍🧍 "they couldn't hear me" 🧍🧍🧍🧍
SO very confused but also very relieved
you weren't ignoring him, you were just listening to not too late on loop
now that he knows you were just trying to focus, he stops talking
reaches for your hand every now and then
he'll hold it until you pull away to type something
sometimes he'll lean over and kiss your forehead :)
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, not proofread!
this is all cause i hate lonely birthdays
(gif credits: @/mir_xxx on weheartit)
Squeezing the empty beer can in your hand, before letting it fall all crumpled in the bin, you defeatedly plopped down on the lonely chair at your dining table. On it rested a single chocolate chip muffin – its Starbuck’s paper bag acting as a tablecloth – crookedly stabbed with a single blue sparkly birthday candle.
“Absolutely fucking pathetic” you murmured as you lifted your hand to light it with your black lighter.
It had been a while since you last believed in birthday wishes, but the realization of having hit rock bottom made you act a little foolish from time to time. You squeezed your eyes real tight – like you used to do as a kid, convinced it would somehow help the process of making the wish come true – and felt a stray tear make its way down your cheek. You sniffled, barely caring anymore, and blew out the candle. As you opened your eyes and saw the smoke make its way up, you almost laughed. Birthday wishes never came true. You hated birthdays.
You slumped in your chair, staring straight at the wall in front of you, and started to think when life had become so dull. Trying to pinpoint the moment when college had started to feel like a job and your job a nuisance. When, suddenly, the realization of being an adult had somehow colored grey your youth: it wasn’t like you didn’t have friends or things to do to fill up your free time, but somehow the weight of responsibilities had become ten times harder to hold up. Someway, all you could manage to focus on was duty and not what made you happy. And the saddest thing was that you knew exactly how it happened but didn’t know how to fix it.
You grimly chuckled, taking a bite out of the muffin. Growing up really fucking sucked.
“You’ll be sulky and mad all day if you spend today alone. You’ll think that nobody cares about you when really, it was you who didn’t want anyone around”
His words echoed in your head as the clock struck one minute after midnight and you stood up to throw the paper Starbuck’s bag and the muffin wrapper away. As always, he was right. You never really gave much thought to birthdays, never really cared much what you did on the day of. That was until he came along and showed you how much fun it could be, just to even hang out with a few friends or do something you had wanted to do for a while. The purpose of birthdays was to celebrate yourself a little bit more than usual, he reminded you. Funny how the first time he wasn’t in your life you seemed to have forgotten a hard-learned lesson.
As you made your way to bed you tried to come up with excuses as to why you had spent your birthday doing the absolute minimum: it fell on a weekday, your friends all had stuff to do, it was enough to have had a quick lunch with them. Wooyoung wasn’t here to put a stop to everyone’s lives just to remind them of your birthday. The harsh truth downed on you and had the same effect as an ice-cold shower. You hated the feeling of getting older and realizing how the world, with its cruelty, crushed the innocence and unadulterated joy you were gifted. Birthdays to you were just a reminder of that. Wooyoung, on the other hand, mitigated such bitter feelings by showing you how despite all of it, you could still find it in yourself to be a little bit of a Peter Pan, that you didn’t have to let it all go, but rather keep it with you to help facing how unforgiving life could be. Especially on birthdays. The thing is, it would have been so easy to do as you’d learned from him, you could’ve done it, but trying would’ve cost your heart too much. It would’ve been the umpteenth reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore, not him, not his joyous smile or bright laughter. You weren’t sure that your patched-up heart could’ve taken being the better version of yourself if he wasn’t by your side, not yet at least.
Tossing and turning in bed did you no good, you had to be up early the next morning, yet whenever you closed your eyes you just saw pictures of him. Throwing the blanket off your body, you lazily stood up, ready to take a trip to the 24h convenience store just by your building. Wrapping a scarf around your neck, you finally opened the front door, just to find yourself facing the person who’d been clouding your head.
“Wooyoung?” you asked, voice shaky and confused.
“Hi” he simply said, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry I missed it but...” he looked at you, pushing a small gift bag in your hands. “Happy birthday y/n”
You couldn’t help but stare, bewildered, between the item placed in your trembling hands and his unreadable face. “I- “ you started, not really knowing what to say. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and you couldn’t keep up with your spiraling thoughts. “You don’t have to say anything” he rushed, eyes focused on his sneakers. “I know you hate birthdays and I’m probably the last person you want to see right now” shrugging, he finally looked at you. “But I hated the thought of you thinking I’d forget about it more”
Something snapped inside of you, probably also having to do with his unusual calm and quiet voice and downcast eyes, that brought tears to your eyes. Wooyoung was rarely like this, he was always happy and cheerful and joyful, a smile stamped on his face no matter what. Seeing him like this had your heart squeezed in a painful clutch. You sniffled, immediately trying to smile despite the pain. “Thank you Wooyoung, you didn’t have to,” you said, trying your best to make your voice sound stable. “But I wanted to” he smiled a little wider this time, subconsciously making you do the same. “I was about to go get some ice cream; do you want to join me?” you asked before you could stop yourself. That had Wooyoung grinning in no time, nodding his head. “I’d like that”
And just like a thousand times before the two of you broke apart, the table outside of the convenience store saw you sitting under its awning once again, talking and laughing like you used to with the company of just two tubs of ice cream and a starry sky. “Promise I’ll never let you spend a birthday alone ever again,” he said, suddenly solemn, holding out his pinkie to you. With a chuckle and the brightest smile stamped on your face, mirrored on his, you laced your pinkie with his.
“I have to go, Hongjoong.” Your voice is soft as you speak up to the man who was focused on his computer. No doubt buried in work, as usual, at least some things never changed even when everything else around did.
He lets out a hum, finally looking up at your form confused, “Okay, when will you be back?”
“I’m....I’m not coming back Joong.” Your voice cracks, betraying you, but the way Hongjoong jolts up shocks you even more. Backing up as he draws closer.
“What do you mean you’re not coming back? You’re the one who always comes back...the only one who stays.” His voice shatters into a whimper, eyes glossing with unshed tears as he looks into your own troubled eyes.
“It’s just like you said, everything you touch breaks. I guess I was no exception.” You sound almost as brittle as he does at this moment, this not being any easier for you than it was for him, “I thought I could sit here and pick you back up every time...be the one thing you could always depend on in life without being affected by it. Here we are though...turns out I was wrong. And I’m not going to stick around through this long enough to snap and break you back. I couldn’t ever do that to you.”
“I’m just sorry I did it to you.” Hongjoong ignores the tears glittering his own cheeks in favor of brushing yours away with a gentle touch as if he’s terrified of shattering you any more than he already had. Which deep down, he was. That fear was slowly coming to the surface though.
“You have nothing to be sorry for Joong. I thought I’d be fine so I never spoke up. You had no way of knowing. It’s as much my fault as it is yours.” You confess, trying to ease his pain some, knowing that truly it wasn’t all on him.
“Just promise me something...if one day you can forgive me...just come back to say hello or something, please?” He requests, finally pulling his touch away to let you go.
“There’s nothing to forgive Hongjoong...but if one day I find myself in a place where I can have you in my life again while being whole...I’ll be back.”
g: sfw, angst, glimpses of fluff towards the ending (which is happy), enemies to lovers
tw: mentions of death/death threats, manipulation, vampires, blood, alcohol and being slightly drunk (drink responsibly!), betrayal
summary: yn grew up to believe in the existence of mortal enemies, being kang yeosang theirs. how will they deal with the fact that said boy has become close to her best friend?
a/n: this is a fic with multiple parts, however they are not complete yet so i can't say for sure how many there will be (counting on having 3) ♡
⇢ this fic is also part of the ficscafe exchanging event, written for @atozfic ♡ (i'm really really sorry but i wasn't able to put this out earlier, hope you still enjoy!)
As the train began to speed up, King’s Cross was left behind and now out of sight. You’re half asleep and half awake, constantly shifting between dreamland and real world, the rail squeal of the train’s wheels being the main cause of your light sleep. Your cheek pressed against the cold window was starting to warm up the glass, and the muscles in your neck began to resent themselves from the position they’ve been holding for so long. Without giving it much thought, you detached your head from the glass and leaned it against the shoulder on your right. Feeling your neck bend more and your head resting lower than you expected, you frown and open your eyes to see why Yunho suddenly felt so short.
It didn’t take long for your sleepy self to realize the boy next to you was in no way remotely similar to your best friend, and you feel an instant impulse - perhaps out of habit - to move away from him as soon as you spot the birthmark on his temple.
“I’m- I’m really sorry. I- I thought you-”, your mind couldn’t make sense of what just happened, where the hell did Yunho go and why is Kang Yeosang sitting in his spot?
“That’s okay, no need to apologise…” the blonde waves his hands shyly at you, “Everywhere else was full, and uh- Yunho said I could sit here...”, he talks to you the same way people talk to traumatized kids, as if he was afraid you would bite him or start crying at any point without warning.
“Where is Yunho?”, you spit back at him - perhaps too harshly - and he moves a few inches away from you, now sitting at the other edge of the seat.
“Uh- he- hum-”, his stuttering was interrupted by the sound of the compartment’s door opening, a very smiley Yunho sticking his head inside.
“So, who wants some snacks?”, the tall brunette sneaks in, making himself comfortable next to you and, unknowingly, breaking the tense atmosphere that formed between you and Yeosang.
You take a couple of snacks from the bag, and for the rest of the trip you keep your focus on the surroundings outside the window, imagining a race happening between the raindrops that slided down the glass, just like you used to do when you were a kid. You could hear Yunho’s voice - muffled by your own thoughts - ramble on loudly about all the things he had done over the summer, Yeosang giving small comments from time to time just to assure the Hufflepuff boy that he was in fact paying attention to him, even though he didn’t have much to add.
For the next couple of weeks whenever you saw Yunho you’d see Yeosang right beside him, it was as if they were glued by the hip and, for that reason, you mastered your avoidance technique, spending all of your time with your Slytherin friends instead of your usual “big tree”, like they used to call him. You would still spend some time with him whenever you had classes together - if the Gryffindor boy wasn’t around -, otherwise you’d just vanish out of their sight the best way you could.
Yes, you were pretty good at hiding but, just as if to complement you, Yunho was great at finding you, especially around lunch time.
“I knew you would be here!”, the so familiar voice exclaims loudly and proudly from afar. You look behind you just to see Yunho doing his little jog towards the Quidditch field, your designated spot for this time of day. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight: his hair all over the place allowing his forehead to give you a little peak, his wide smile making his eyes be hidden by the cheeks, red from the chilly wind, and his yellow scarf flowing behind him.
“I know you just like the back of my hand, (y/n)”, he sits down next to you, his shoulder hitting yours lightly, “But there are two things I still don’t understand.” Yunho pauses with an intriguing look, waiting for you to react.
“And what are those two things, if I may ask?”
“Oh, exactly the question I was waiting for!”, he stands up dramatically, blocking your vision from the field, “Number one, why do you keep coming here at this time of the day. And number two, why do you hate Yeosang?”
You knew he didn’t expect a reply for the first one, but the other one he certainly wanted to know.
“I never said I hated him.” you simply shrug your shoulders.
“But you do, don’t you?”, he squats in front of you squinting his eyes, and you shoo him away.
“I just don’t vibe with him, I don’t know.”
“Funny coming from you... Last year you scolded your brother for being too judgy when he’d first meet someone, and this is your explanation for not getting along with Yeosang? I don’t buy it.”
He sits back down and crosses his arms, proud of himself for being so observant. But, when you don’t say anything, Yunho furrows his brows as this was unlikely of you, becoming worried that maybe Yeosang wasn’t who he thought he was. Yet, he knew better than to push it with you, sending his thoughts to the back of his mind, saving them for later.
You were glad your friend dropped the subject that soon but, unfortunately, as the day went by the matter didn’t seem to leave your mind, ghosts of your past threatening to disrupt your sleep later on that night.
“You can’t ever trust him, y/n. Ever. And I mean it.” Your older brother squeezed your shoulders rather harshly as he scrunched down a little for your eyes to meet, and it felt as if he was staring into your soul. “You know what he’ll do to you, right?”
“The same dad did to his family.” you replied quietly, tears already lingering in the corners of your eyes as you looked down at your feet.
“Exactly.” The tall boy pulled you into a tight hug, “He might seem innocent and friendly but don’t you think he won’t take out his revenge on us. It’s not your fault, but you're the easy target, y/n. Please stay safe.” He places a kiss on the top of your head before walking you to the train, leaving you to Yunho, the only friend he trusted you with.
The bitter memories of your first trip to Hogwarts years ago kept you awake, making you toss and turn in your bed for hours, the tears you cried that day stinging and staining your cheeks all over again. The fear of possibly being killed by one of your classmates seemed unreasonable back then, but as you grew up so did that fear. You were all becoming skilled wizards and witches, and it seemed very plausible and fair to you that Kang Yeosang would want to avenge his parent’s death someday. You, as you’ve been told, are in fact an easy target and he has just gotten one step closer to you.
The next morning, after your three miserable hours of sleep, you meet Yunho at the entrance hall for your weekly trip to Hogsmeade, since you both had no classes on Friday mornings. However, you slow down your pace as soon as you spot and extra mop of blonde hair next to your friend, deciding to turn around and head back to your dorm as soon as you saw Yeosang’s face.
To your dismay, Yunho’s eyes worked like ones of an eagle and he immediately called you out, preventing you from pursuing your escape plan. You sighed deeply, stopping on your tracks as the tall boy approached you with a big smile on his face.
“I invited Yeosang to come with us, is that okay with you?”, his hand brushing your elbow lightly.
You hesitate a bit, glancing over at where Yeosang was standing, fidgeting his fingers and playing with the scarf fringes. “My fear is so stupid, right?”. You bite your cheek, not taking your eyes off the boy you were taught to fear, one who looked nothing but innocent right now. “He might be pretending though…”, you sigh once more and look back at Yunho nodding in agreement, “There’s only one way to find out.”
For the whole trip you’ve maintained yourself close to Yunho’s left side, while Yeosang kept walking on his right. You were mainly listening to their conversation rather than actively participating, attempting to read through Yeosang. But there was nothing there. Nothing to be afraid of at least. He was just another Hogwarts’ student who liked playing Quidditch and dreamed of becoming an Auror, just like you.
As the time passed by, you’d let yourself loosen up a bit, but not without maintaining your reserved persona, just slowly giving in to the boys’ random muggle games Yeosang had taught you. To be fair, after three butter beers any game becomes more fun, even “truth or dare”. However, it had become "truth or truth" right after the fifth round, and your previously conflicted mind was now clouded by alcohol.
“This is stupid, guys.”, you whine, hiding your face and refusing to answer the question Yunho made, “Seriously, it’s so embarrassing!”
“Of course it is, that’s why I asked!”, your friend laughed loudly before resting his chin on his hands as he leaned over the table to look at you attentively, “It was Professor Young wasn’t it?”, you could see his smile grow bigger through your fingers and hear Yeosang already grinning next to him.
“Well, I had my reasons!”, you just decide to own it, crossing your arms and resting your back on the chair with the proudest look you could pull off. “He looked like a vampire…”, your voice dies down a little at the last statement while the boys filled the Three Broomsticks Inn with what now sounded more like squeals than actual laughter.
“You’re saying your first crush was Professor Young just because he looked like a vampire?” Yeosang wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling.
“Is that your question for the game?”, you stare at him with a defying gaze, “If so-”
“Wait! No, no, no!”, he waves his hands in front of you, “I have an actual question.” His voice fell down three octaves, his smile became a smirk and his eyes fixated on you in such a way you could either fall in love or kill him right on the spot.
“Go ahead then.” you fought with all your strength to not look away from him, to not look weak in front of him, you didn't even blink, too focused on the green of his eyes seemingly turning black, but that was probably just your not so sober self hallucinating.
“What is your biggest fear?”
“Why- What?”, Yunho shifts in his chair, laughing once more but this time alone, completely oblivious of the honesty in your voice and the seriousness on your face, “Are you guys flirting? You know that’s not how two people flirt right?”
At this point you had already broken eye contact with Yeosang, feeling rushes of shivers down your spine as your brain went dizzy and Yunho’s voice became more distant than ever. You couldn’t tell if you bluntly spilled out the truth just because you were drunk or if the Gryffindor had cast a spell on you.
to be continued...
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