notes: this is somewhat a part 2 to this fic as well as the readers perspective on the events of that fic and what i head cannon as what happened next:P, based off the song can't catch me now by Olivia Rodrigo (heard this song on a tiktok about characters who haunt the narrative so now its everyones problem tbh), not proofread i wrote this in one sitting:p
warnings; trauma?, self victim blaming, not too heavy i believe.
In a situation where someone you love hurts another person you love, what is there to be done?
I couldn't give you that answer even if I wanted too.
Life after had been different for me, especially without Suho. My daily routine of messing with Suho and hanging out with the three boys had been put on halt.
For the first three days, going to school had been interrupted, our grandma opting for me to stay home and help her with the things Suho always did. In the back of my mind, i knew this wasn't the real reason, but i accepted it anyway.
I could use a break, especially after the video of the incident spread on social media. The comments were the worst of the worst. Things i could've never imagined people would say to my or Suho's face was released by people who didn't even know Suho.
user5935985
The kid in the glasses really lost it lol should've fought himself
user95050325
LOL, Suho is cooked. Wooyoung got it back in blood. shouldve killed the bastard tbh
user 496830585
The asshole Suho deserved it, looks like he bullied the kid with the glasses and thats karma
Since that day, I've steered clear of social media, opting to delete them entirely. Before I deleted them though, I stupidly decided to check Beomseok's account—for what? I had no idea. I scrolled straight to the bottom, opting to ignore the newer posts.
The first picture on his page was of me and him holding hands, the caption reading "warm hands" the corners of my lips lift slightly, grip loosening on the phone as my eyes scan over the picture, taking in every little detail.
The flower ring I made on his ring finger. The real ring he bought me on my pinkie. The way our hands are intertwined so tightly it looked like we planned on never letting go. In that little pocket of time and space, we didn't plan on letting go.
Time has a funny way of messing with the fickle and weak heart.
The wind blew through my hair softly, almost comfortingly as I picked at the grass around me, glancing at every piece, but not really looking.
Birds are chirping away mindlessly and casually—the world continues moving as it always has and as it always will.
Time waits for no one, and everyone around me has made that very apparent.
Several moments of silence pass as I try to sort through my thoughts and collect my words. There's so much to say, so much to discuss and let out of me, but i can't seem to voice a single thought.
"I feel like I'm stuck, Sieun." II finally settle on, sniffling as my eyes start burning and I clear my throat.
He doesn't say anything as the wind continues blowing, but I know he's still listening. Sieun's just like that.
Quiet, yet thoughtful as he listens on. He doesn't move, doesn't interrupt me to tell me to have hope and to just wait until Suho wakes up like others and most of all, he doesn't mention Beomseok and his actions—just listens.
Somehow and for a reason I can't explain or think of, I wished he did mention it. I wish he did say Beomseok's name, shared his opinion or his reason for not hitting him that day. Anything to help me decide the next step or feeling.
"Like I'm still there—like I'm still holding him in that ring, you know?" My voice cracks towards the end, and I start talking again, pushing through the weight in my chest and the lump in my throat.
"Like they're still holding me down, and away from him." I crack my knuckles and take a breath in, willing myself to work through my frustration and put it into words.
I fiddle with my fingers, scraping the skin of my pointer with my nail. "I'm sorry, I just—" I stop, wracking my brain for the words. "I don't know how to put this. I don't know what to feel."
"God, fuck. why is everyone pretending like this is normal? Like nothing has happened. My brother—" I choke, swallowing down my tears and in turn—my grief as I continue.
"I held him, held Suho. I held him like I held Beomseok, am I wrong for that?" I sniffled, looking into the sky, like it would give me the answers i begged for.
"Am I not at fault? Shouldn't I have been there sooner? How much longer would the beating have gone if I wasn't there to stop him, Sieun? " My mind is swarming with unanswered questions, and I hold a shaking hand to my chest, willing myself to calm down.
"It's not your fault." Sieun finally and simply says, like that was the solution to it all. He looks at me with a kind of understanding and patience that no one else has. His expression is absolute— like he's made up his mind about something he hasn't and probably won't say.
The unshed tears burned a trail down my cheek as they fell, and I turn away from Sieun as if I was ashamed. The truth is that I was ashamed. I am ashamed.
"I loved him." I whisper, the words feeling heavier than they ever did in my chest.
"I loved and cared for him and a part of me still does Sieun. I hate it, and I hate him and I don't want to feel like this anymore." I admit, the words forcing themselves out before I could stop them.
I don't know why I'm telling him this.
He probably has his own things to worry about—his friends at his new school, his mom—who practically abandoned him now overbearing and watchful and more and yet, as soon as the words were said and laid out in the open, I felt lighter.
The heavy rock like feeling in my chest feeling hadn't gone away completely, probably never will, but in this moment it feels like a lot less than it did before.
"Grief is just love with no place to go." He concludes, putting my feelings into words in a way I never would've been able too.
"I think so too." I settle.
Later that day, when I'm alone in Suho's room as I had been for the past month since it happened, I'm left to my thoughts. I'm rehashing the situation all over again, thinking of what to say. I open Beomseok's contact, fingers hovering on the text message button as I mull over what to say. I finally find the words, my fingers typing as I play out every word in my head.
"Beomseok, I'd like to start this off by saying that I don't know where you are now, but I hope you feel lighter than you ever have." I nod to no one but myself, continuing on.
"I hate you, but I also hate myself for still loving you." I can't help but be honest when it comes to him, and I don't even know why I'm sending this. "I don't know why you did what you did, and I may never know, but know I did love you and I hope wherever you are, peace finds you, but not for long. I wish you knew how much you were truly loved, and how time always finds a way to catch up with us."
I see this as my small payback, a sick feeling of pride swirling in me as i think about how this would hurt him. Even if it slightly hurt him, i think i'd feel slightly better.
Sent. 3:20
read. 3:21
Beomseokie💕 is typing...
I'm sorry. I love you. sent 3:25
After that day, the texts had stopped.
Suho had woken up a month later, and everyone was overjoyed. Things went somewhat back to normal, and life had moved on yet again, and yet i knew i was still stuck in the past searching for Beomseok, the sweet and quiet boy i thought i knew.
I'd searched social media and talked to his family, who had no interest in telling me what had happened to Beomseok after his impromptu trip to the Philippians.
Safe to say, time does not make the heart fonder, in fact it makes the ache stronger.
—
if you enjoyed, consider liking, reblogging, sharing or sending in your own ask:p
IM GOOODDDD, IM IN UNDERGRAD FOR SURGEON CERTIFICATION 🥹🥹🥹 it’s kicking my asssss but im excited for break. How have you beennn?!
WHATTTT THATS SO AMAZING😭😭💗 congrats lovely!!<3 i hope you have the most restful break i am definitely enjoying mines😮💨 ive been well!! trying to manage writing/ hobbies, rebranding the blog and school, i should be a jester atp
hi lovelies!! it’s briankitty (bree-awn-kitty) formerly known as heartseungbin. it’s still the same lil old me:,) just with a new user (since i write for multiple fandoms not just skz anymore) and theme! i’ll be updating my masterlist (s) and separating them based on a tagging system! it will no longer be separate
#bk.skz or #bk.*insertmember* ex: #bk.seungmin for any stray kids member stories, drabbles, content etc.
#bk.weakhero or #bk.*insertcharacter* ex: #bk.beomseok for any weak hero class stories, drabbles, content etc.
#bk.bts for any BTS stories, drabbles, content etc.
for future reference any other fandom i write about can most likely be found thru the tag “#bk…”
opening ur drafts for the first time in a while is such a jumpscare sometimes..wym you have a namgyu, beomseok, Felix and chan smut/story you haven't written🤦🏽♀️ (me)
BEE OMGGGGG !!! I’ve literally abandoned tumblr for like a whole month omg!! I LOVE THE NEW THEME!!! ALSO I SAW YOU TOOK MY REQUEST AND OFC IT WAS SO GOOD OMG!! -🧁
HI LOVELY WHAT THE FART I DID NOT SEE THIS😭😭 HOW ARE YOU!! IM GLAD YOU LOVE THE THEME AND LIKED THE FIC 😚😚
why everytime i decide to write for someone new they do something problematic..GRRR😡 anyways new shit coming soon requests are back open i’m nawt done with the blog uet but it’s taking so long💔
notes; this fic is based off creep by radio head:p this was so random of me tbh
warnings; religious themes slightly (fallen angel/corrupt angel), stalking, harassment, fear play (?), breaking and entering, no smut, yandere themes obviously
It's shameful.
It's wrong.
He should feel ashamed.
He should feel disgusted.
He knows it's wrong, but somehow from his place perched atop the tree directly across from your bedroom window, he still can't bring himself to rip his gaze away from you.
He was supposed to watch over everyone equally, giving everyone the same amount of protection and attention and yet, he only interfered when absolutely necessary of him. Or at least, what he deemed necessary.
Surely he'd seen some angelic models, actresses and celebrities with faces that would bring anyone to their knees, and even people who look like they'd been blessed by god himself in the face department but you—you are something special.
He couldn't pinpoint just what it was about you that set you apart from the rest.
Was it the way you tried your best to be kind to everyone you came across? Or the way you made people feel seen, even in large groups of people?
Maybe it was the way you made everyone around you smile, even when it was at your own expense.
It almost angers him how perfect you are.
He could never achieve your level of perfection, even if he was god's favorite angel.
It was because of that fact that it was decided he would be the one sent down to earth, his silky white wings stripped and plucked, leaving large scars on his shoulder blades as punishment for his laziness.
He almost scoffed. In his mind he did scoff.
Some punishment that was.
Although it hurt, he would endure.
It was for you after all.
It's almost laughable—the lengths he'd go.
The lengths he went just to be close to you.
He would do them time and time again. He would've plucked his own wings himself if it meant he could fall from heaven faster to be by your side.
His dark eyes search your bedroom, desperate for any glance you would spare him. He was grateful to you, after all you do know he's been here, right? He could've sworn you glanced his way.
I mean, you did make quite a strange face after glancing in his direction.
He'd never seen that one before. Jeongin was always pleasantly pleased whenever you'd show him another side of yourself, especially one he'd never seen before or you showed to anyone else.
Your eyes went wide with what looked like fear? Maybe he hadn't studied human emotion that well when it was taught to him.
How strange and laughable!
Your eyebrows were raised in an alarmed arch, fingers reaching for the top of your duvet, slowly bringing the blanket to your face. Only your eyes were visible from what he could see. Deep down he knew you enjoyed this little game you both shared too, I mean why else would you keep your curtains opened? It's not like he used what little powers he was granted left to open the curtain slightly, after all, he'd never do anything like that.
He lived for these moments, these little interactions were so much to him, he wondered how you felt about them too. Surely you were overjoyed as well.
It's almost laughable how not even a full week ago he was a greatly depended on deity, someone who people prayed to. He had been present for most of earths wars and famines, helping those in which he'd been assigned to watch greatly, essentially being the turning point for humans and slowly climbing his way up the ranks, even becoming god's head angel.
God's favorite angel.
It was a title he once wore so proudly, so openly and unabashedly.
He was important enough to humans to have had statues made of him, grandiose literature and architecture all dedicated to him, made to praise him.
If anyone else knew the real reason he'd be exiled from heaven, he fears he'd have suffered a far greater hell than the one he already was; which was being forced to be so far from you.
He watched on as you slowly pulled the cover away from your mouth, eyes frantically darting around the window.
Your perfect lips parted and he smiled.
I wonder how they'd feel to touch he distantly thought, running his fingers over his own lips as he continues to watch you.
Maybe you were going to smile at him, call his name and finally acknowledge him for all he had done, all he will continue to do and all he has sacrificed, just for you.
He doesn't hate you for making him do this, he doesn't hate you for your perfectness, he just hates how you don't know you're perfect.
He stares at you for a moment. Then several more. You look kind of frozen, just sitting there with that same expression. You're quiet, nothing coming out of your shaking frame.
Your mouth opens.
It shuts.
It opens once more.
Jeongin hears it then, the quiet fragility and weakness of your voice as you speak up.
"Please, go away."
You sound desperate, but he can't pinpoint why.
His eyes dart over your body, taking in every small detail.
The way your eyes were as wide as saucers, the way your fingers clutched the duvet so close to your body it looked like it hurt and most of all, the way you were looking at him.
You were finally looking at him!
Looking.
At him.
He couldn't contain the smile that grew on his face even if he tried, and he was sure you were also smiling, just in a strange and different way.
That's fine, a different expression of yours to add to his mental diary filled with you.
And wait, what was it that you said to him?
What an idiot! He thought, pinching the bridge of his perfect nose.
His angel, his reason for living and breathing, the cause of his pain and pleasure, his life and love said something to him for the first time, and he can't even remember what you said!
He would beg for an eternity if it meant you would repeat it, but he settled for simply asking you to repeat whatever it was your lovely voice had said.
Hopefully you could hear him clearly through the glass of the window, surely his previous words to you weren't for naught, after all this isn't the first time he's talked to you, this is simply the first time he'd had the courage to let you see his face.
He's starting to get slightly annoyed with you now, your face seemingly frozen in the way your eyes stayed trained on his.
It's so romantic how you don't want to break eye contact, similar to a staring contest. He taps at the glass separating you both, maybe she wants to make contact! he thinks distantly, his smile dropping into a frown when your head slowly shakes no.
He chalks it up to first meeting jitters, he's nervous too!
"The window," he points, head tilting like a confused pup.
Your head shakes again and he can see something fall from your face and onto the duvet below, soaking the fabric and leaving a circular wet spot. He doesn't see you acknowledge it nor do you even blink and you continue staring at the window, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Is she crying? How excited she must be, she can't contain herself!
He places rough hands onto the glass, carefully placing pressure on them and forcing the glass up.
You back up further, shrinking into the wall as if you wanted to blend into the wall, disappearing from this moment as it happens and left to be a spectator, safe from your inevitable fate.
The window creaks with the effort as he turns his back to you, closing the window behind him like a thief in the night. He turns around, digging his feet into your plush carpet with a sigh, grabbing for something on your desk.
He grabs a plushie of a cat with angel wings, holding it close to his chest as he takes a long sniff of the fabric.
You found the plushie cute, having found it on your bed one day after a hard day of work, assuming one of your roommates placed it there as a gift.
"I knew you'd love my gift." he beams, looking at you with hooded eyes.
You feel it now, the way the room feels like it's caving in on you, the quick and pathetic breathes you attempt to take as it feels like your throat is closing on itself.
You can't breathe.
You try but you know you can't, or at least it feels like you can't.
Your eyes burn from being open for so long, forcing themselves to blink as unshed tears fall onto your blanket.
You suddenly find the strength to speak once more as you open your mouth, watching as he immediately stops his antics with the plushie, instead opting to stare at you, making you flinch.
"Please—Please leave me alone." You whisper, finding the strength flooding your system.
His hands grip the plushie tighter now, his pale knuckles turning red with the effort as he frowns.
He looks like he remembers something then, and he smiles toothily.
"You don't mean that—You're just nervous, I am too. It's perfectly normal,"
You sob then.
What about this is normal?
A wave of heat washes over you as thoughts get thrown around in your brain left and right.
How did you let him come in? Maybe you should've used your words to tell him no, to tell him you didn't want him here.
No, you don't want him here, you want him to leave.
you're going to die here.
you're going to die in this fucking house if you don't say anything.
No one's going to find you until it's to late, say something, anything to make him leave.
"You're a fucking creep," you grit, tears now freely falling as you worriedly await his response, noticing how your hands began to shake, legs twitching with the thought, the hopes of running lest things went south.
You watched as his face contorted into one of dissatisfaction, his fingers twitching before he opted to throw the plushie to the side harshly, the plushie hitting the wall with a thud, making you jump, your own whimpers and sobs becoming clear to your ears now.
He seems to hear them too as he takes a singular step forward.
Then another.
"I finally made myself worthy for you," he says, smiling softly, but the smile is anything but comforting.
Your hand slowly finds its way on the edge of the duvet.
"Surely you're trying your best to contain yourself, right?" he speaks slowly like you're a spooked deer and he's a hunter of deer.
You wanna look around the room for something, anything you could use to defend yourself because you know you may not make it out of this alive but you can't bring yourself to look away from this man, your head screaming at you to scan his every feature in the case of a miracle.
In the case that you make it out of this situation unscathed and unharmed and you're able to describe him to the police.
He takes another step and he's so close now you're sharing breaths, except his is perfectly calm and yours are labored and short, body in survival mode.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this," he whispers, but it isn't the volume that's loud, it's the words themselves.
You feel sick.
Its hot in here.
its too tight.
too small.
It's funny how you used to complain about how big and lonely your room was without your roommate, but now it feels exactly opposite of large, it feels far too small to breathe.
To live and be comfortable like you're supposed to be in your own room.
The words he softly spoke suddenly dawned on you as you realize that all those times you heard noises when you knew you were alone, all those sleepless nights spent staring at the window with the curtains you could've swore you had shut having been opened mysteriously, all these items of yours that had been going missing and new ones that pop up out of seemingly no where—It was all him.
Everything.
He made you feel like you were crazy.
Everyone thought you were, so you stopped complaining. It was probably in your head— everyone was telling you that, so surely they couldn't have been lying.
Were him and your friends all working together?
Had he planned your friends turning against you also?
Is this some sick joke your friends are playing on you?
"you'll come to understand sooner or later that everything I did, everything I do and everything that's going to happen is all for you."
if you enjoyed, consider liking, reblogging, commenting, sharing or sending in your own ask:p all rights to this story belong to me, bee, aka heartseungbin on Tumblr!!!
