Hi there, I don’t know if you’re still active on this tumblr but I just wanted to let you know your Castles In The Air story is hands-down the most beautiful Donghyuck story I’ve ever read. Your writing is one of the best I’ve seen that I even got teary while reading it. Also love your Sunshower and Star-Crossed stories, even your shorter ones are so good. I’d love to read an extended version of Stars and Lies too hehe I’m such a sucker for angst~
hello there! i’m so sorry, i only just saw this as i haven’t been on tumblr for a while. thank you so much for your lovely message, you have no idea how much your words mean to me. i had begun to write off this blog as a series of frankly uninspiring and perhaps even immature musings, and to be honest, i had pretty much forgotten the joy of writing fanfiction. after seeing your message though, i re-read castles in the air and was instantly overwhelmed by feelings of nostalgia, inspiration and a sudden desire to delve back into writing. so thank you for re-kindling that spark of passion that had been lying dormant within me for a while—i’m not sure if i’ll ever get back into posting more of my work on this blog, but i’m looking forward to dreaming up new story ideas and (hopefully) seeing them through to completion. to know that my writing has made you feel something really means the world to me. take care and stay safe darling <3
hey guys!! i wasn’t intending to continue this so i really have to thank @komoruarchives for suggesting this <3 really hope yall will like this hehe
~read part one here~
Donghyuck thinks he might be losing his mind.
You really meant it when you said you were going back to hating each other’s guts. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague ever since you left his arms, refusing to even look at him when he passes you in the hallways at school. If anything, it’s even worse because now you don’t even bother to spare him a chilly glance or a sharp glare, instead choosing to avert your gaze downwards.
He hates himself for it. He hates himself for dreaming about the stars in your eyes during his astrophysics lecture, for counting the number of times he’d seen you in a single day during math class, and for remembering the feeling of you in his arms when analyzing love sonnets in his literature module. It’s driving him crazy, how in love he is with you.
And with that, he makes his decision at last. Screw this childish hate, this incessant battle of push-and-pull, he’s finally going to follow the directive of his heart.
Which leads him to stand in front of your locker, running a hand through his hair, wondering if he’s being way too impulsive—
But all rational thought flies out his brain the moment he sees you standing before him, arms crossed over your chest.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, tone sharp.
Donghyuck simply stares at you. Takes in the way your eyes shine like whole galaxies, the way your hair spills across your shoulders in a stream of obsidian, the way you always manage to take his breath away with a mere glance.
“I-I… I don’t know,” he says, after what seems like an eternity. At his uncertainty, his lack of usual eloquence, something in you softens a little.You sigh, stepping closer to him.
“If this is about the other day, I’m sorry, it was a mistake. Let’s just pretend it never happened—,”
“What if it wasn’t a mistake? What if I don’t want to pretend it never happened? What if I want to say it was real?”
Your breath catches in your throat as you feel something unhinge slowly within your heart.
“It was real,” Donghyuck repeats, eyes alive with both fear and hope. “And I want it to keep being real.”
You can’t believe your ears. But at the same time, something tells you that this was coming all along, and you can’t help feeling like this is just so right. This is how it’s meant to be, this is how things should be.
Almost like it was written in the stars.
“Fine then, let’s make it real,” you say, before you gasp and turn around immediately, shocked at your forthcoming words and suddenly unable to face him.
You’re about to literally break into a sprint when you feel arms encircle around your waist as Donghyuck rests a chin on your shoulder.
“I’m not letting you go this time,” he murmurs in your ear, and that’s when you just give up and melt into him completely.
Because otherwise you’d be fighting a losing battle against your heart, and he knows it too.
You awake with a start, blurry vision slowly swimming into focus. You stare at the mass of sky blue around you and almost fall right out of the bed. Since when were your bedroom walls blue? Then you look down at the bed beneath you and gasp aloud, because it isn’t yours either.
That’s also when you realize an arm around your waist holding you in place, and you whip around to see the sleeping face of the bane of your existence, Lee Donghyuck.
You would have screamed, if not for the searing headache that tears through your skull right at that exact moment, threatening to rip it apart. You let out a moan of agony and shift uncomfortably beneath the deadweight of Donghyuck’s arm.
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much last night,” a husky voice slurs in your ear, and in spite of yourself, you feel chills running down your spine.
“Shut up,” you recollect your senses and hiss, latching your hand onto his arm to detach it from your waist, filled with regret at agreeing to come to his stupid party with Mark last night. But Donghyuck refuses to remove himself from you and even has the nerve to pull your body closer to his. Your body goes rigid in his arms.
“Don’t leave,” he murmurs softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. The usual acerbic bite is gone from his voice, replaced with a pleading tenderness and a quiver of uncertainty that makes you forget your resolve to hate him, just for a little bit.
“Why?” You venture to ask, wanting but fearing his answer.
“You shouldn’t move too much yet; you’re hungover. You’ll get nowhere with that headache and you know it. Don’t want you fainting in my house.” It’s bullshit and you both know it, a diversion from his true feelings beneath that mask of cavalier.
You don’t say anything for a moment, your fogged-up brain trying to register the feel of his strong arm draped across your stomach, the back of your head resting against his chest. So close to his heart you swear you can hear the steady rhythm of its beating.
You’d never admit that you don’t ever want to leave the warm embrace of the boy you hate so much.
“Fine. But after this we’re going right back to hating each other’s guts, and don’t you dare bring this up ever again.
You can feel him stiffen behind you, just for a fraction of a second, but his hold on you doesn’t loosen. If anything, he pulls you impossibly closer.
And then he gently snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, as though trying to breathe as much of you in as possible before having to let you go.
“Of course,” Donghyuck whispers against your skin.
It’s hard to miss the hurt in his voice.
—
a/n; just a short lil hyuck blurb hehe,,, rlly wanna start writing chaptered fics again but idt ill have time anymore :(( so many ideas floating around in my head tho siiigh
ALSO!! i rlly need help on this—does anyone know why my tumblr icon is always pixelated whenever i reply to replies on my posts :( ik it flags explicit / sensitive content but i don’t even have any posts on my main blog (cosmic-hearts2)? like yall can go check lol theres literally 0 posts... and i don’t think this writing blog covers anything explicit either so i’m really confused ?? and when i try to change the icon on my main blog it just reverts back to the default one :(( if anyone knows how to fix this pls help!! bc i hate that my blog is flagged as explicit when i really dont think i have any explicit content on any of my blogs? sigh pls send help if yall can <3
foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after.
<< previous
2 years later
Fairy lights illuminate the darkened streets of Hongdae, and everywhere you go, you see groups of friends trooping about and couples huddled close together. For a moment, you feel a bitter pang of loneliness, conscious of how glaringly isolated you appear, but then you tell yourself that you’re walking with a purpose, and you’re not meant to be milling aimlessly about like these carefree youngsters around you.
Just like it always has been.
You remember when you were younger, you wished you could chill with friends in a cafe in Hongdae, the neighbourhood brimming with the vitality of youthful hearts. But you were always either busy studying or attending social functions, and you hung out more with adults than people your age. Of course, there was a time when you acted like a normal teenager for once; you went to a high school party, got stuck in a musty closet with a boy who had an angelic voice, and you got so wasted that said boy had to haul your drunk ass home.
You went to cafes with him; he dirtied your favourite bag, but he got you a new one to make up for it. He sang you songs on the hood of his car, beneath the cloak of stars that sheltered you both. He took you to prom and told you that you were pretty; you had never seen him so shy before. He kissed you once, breathing starlight into your soul and fire into your veins. And he even gave you a song, wrote a melody into your heart that you find yourself humming occasionally, till this very day.
You pull your scarf tighter around your neck as a gust of chilly air blows across your cheek, sweeping up the fallen leaves scattered across the sidewalk. All that’s left of the boy now are nothing more than bittersweet memories, a silent echo of what could have been. You don’t like to dwell on it too much; there’s simply no point. You’d stopped building castles in the air ages ago.
But you’d never stopped hoping, with all your heart, that he’s finally managed to build his own castles for real.
You cast a quick glance at your watch, jolting yourself back to reality; you had been sent by your parents to check up on the new branch of their fashion company they just had opened up at Hongdae. You are now slowly learning the ropes of running their company, getting ready to take over. You’re not sure if this is truly what you want in life—you wish you had Donghyuck’s firm innate passion for something—but for now, it gives you a vague sense of fulfilment, which is sufficient. Maybe one day you’ll find something of your own that ignites a spark within you and burns so brightly that you’ll have no choice but to pursue it in reckless, passionate abandon.
As you walk with quickened steps and renewed purpose, the heels of your boots clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you begin to notice more and more buskers lining the street, each with crowds of people surrounding them. Most are dancing; there are a couple singers as well, and even a rapper at the end of the street.
You’re about to turn the corner when a familiar melody halts you right in your tracks.
And it’s not just the melody; it’s that honeyed, saccharine voice you’d once thought was a celestial gift from the heavens. That voice you wanted to have on loop forever because it was too precious and beautiful to ever let go.
Lee Donghyuck’s voice.
True enough, he sits on a high stool a few feet away, eyes closed as he sings to a small crowd around him. But he looks so immersed in his own little world that you think it’s more likely he’s singing to himself rather than performing to anyone else.
Bathed in the vivid glow of passion and completely in his own element, moonlight irradiating the planes of his face, he’s just so beautiful.
He has glossy purple hair now, and it’s tucked messily under a black cap. His fingers are closed tight around a mic in his hands as he belts out the lyrics to ‘Beautiful Time’.
Your song. The song he wrote just for you.
Hearing it live is truly a surreal experience. Your hands tremble slightly; you clutch your bag just a little tighter.
It’s all worth it, and you’re so glad. Seeing him like this, you know you made the right choice back then.
The song ends, and everyone breaks out into applause. It is just like that day in the cafe, when Donghyuck sang and everyone fell right under his spell, entranced by the sound of his voice.
“Thank you,” Donghyuck says bashfully, smiling at the floor and rubbing his neck. “Actually, I wrote this song for my friend. It’s been really long since I last saw her, and… well, I really miss her.”
Your heart just about stops right there.
“I was about to give up singing, but she was the one who persuaded me not to. And I’ll be forever grateful to her for that.”
“I hope that wherever she is, she’s happy, and I hope she always will be.”
A single tear rolls down your cheek; you wipe it away hastily.
“All right,” Donghyuck says, grabbing the mic again. “It’s time for the last song of tonight. I hope all of you will enjoy it.”
You want, more than anything, to stay and listen to this last song, but you know that once you do that, you won’t be able to move on with your life and do what you’re supposed to do. You’ll fall in too deep, and there will be no escape this time. Donghyuck’s voice just has that power over you.
No, Donghyuck has that power over you.
So you clutch resolutely onto your Prada bag, steal one last longing look at the boy who’s held your heart hostage, and walk away.
—
Donghyuck’s about to start the last song of the night when he notices someone lurking at the edge of the audience, turning away to walk off, presumably to the next busker.
More specifically, he notices the bag the person is carrying; it is filled with pastel hues of pink, purple and blue, with a shiny triangular Prada logo right smack in the centre. It is all too strikingly familiar.
Because he chose those colours himself. And he chose the customised design, which means that the bag can belong only to one person.
A surge of adrenaline pumps through Donghyuck’s veins; he gets up from his stool and takes off into the night, startling the little crowd around him. But he could care less.
The past two years, he’s never stopped thinking about you. He’d broken up with Sohui shortly after the prom he took you to, and he was planning to tell you just that on the night of your birthday. That you two didn’t need that stupid contract anymore, not when he thinks his heart might have finally found its home. That when he kissed you, it was like the stars aligned and he felt constellations erupt in the universe of his soul. That he was sorry for ever hating you, and he’d make it up to you in any way you wanted. But then you abruptly ended it all, cutting off all forms of contact with him and destroying all the castles he’d built in the air.
He figured you probably would never feel the same way as he did.
But that didn’t stop him from writing, singing, and dreaming about you. After all, you told him to chase his dreams, and he wouldn’t stop doing that, not for the world.
And now, you’re right there within his grasp. He’s not letting you slip away from him again.
It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you. Before you can walk any further, he grabs your wrist and you whirl around in response.
It’s really you. You look just as ethereal as ever, with your hair a moonlit cascade down your back, eyes sparkling like stars amid sundown.
“Y/N,” he breathes, just as your eyes widen at the sight of the boy you’d resolved to erase from your life standing right before you.
And it is at that moment that the castles in the air come alive.
—
a/n; aaand that’s a wrap!! tysm for all the support and the comments hehe <3 i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it !! peace out, stay safe and healthy yall ^^ till next time :)
foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after.
<< previous chapter | next chapter >>
Over the next couple of dates, it’s like a switch has been flicked in your relationship with Donghyuck. You could finally say with confidence that he’s a friend, and you’re grateful for this time with him; it feels like you’re both catching up on all the lost years.
Sure, he made fun of you constantly for that obnoxious heart-shaped Prada Odette Heart Bag you always carried around with you for casual dates, and for wearing Dior sneakers on the rare days you weren’t in heels. God, that bag looks like it’s for a twelve-year old. And who the hell wears Dior sneakers? I didn’t even know freaking Dior sold sneakers. You tried explaining to him that it was an AF1xDior collaboration special but that didn’t soften his judgement in any way, so you settled for calling him an uncultured jerk. And there was the time he got gravy on your prized pink bag and you nearly stabbed him with your butter knife.
But there were sweeter times too. When he was feeling generous and perhaps more than a little sentimental, he sang you songs as you two sat on the hood of his car, soaking up the moonlight. These days were rare and therefore exceedingly precious, and though you’d never tell him, you cherished them deeply. His voice whisked you away from this sublunary world, to a place filled with the breath of angels and flights of fancy, a place where you could build castles in the air and wonder what it would be like if what you had with Donghyuck was real.
You love every second with him.
That said, you’re already regretting your decision to go with Donghyuck to his senior high prom. Even your coveted Sadek Majed Summer Spring Couture gown (literally woven with all the blessings of spring) isn’t enough to keep anxiety from clawing its way through the perfectly fitted waistline. It might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never actually been to a prom before.
It doesn’t get any better when you step into his school and all eyes are on you. Perhaps it’s your gown; you had a feeling you’d overdone it this time. You knew it from the moment you got into Donghyuck’s car and his jaw literally dropped. When you asked him what was wrong, he looked away, cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily hard without bothering to reply. You knew maybe you’d taken it a little too far, but you didn’t think you looked that bad.
Donghyuck brings you to the auditorium, then promptly abandons you in search of Jaemin. You’d expected as much—Lee Donghyuck may have the voice of an angel, but he most certainly isn’t one.
You sip your glass of punch, and when you set it down you see someone’s come to sit opposite you.
“Hi,” she says, eyes curving into crescents, “I think we’ve met before.”
You take a good look at the girl; she’s dressed in a baby blue rafaela dress, obsidian locks tumbling across her shoulders, a sharp contrast to her alabaster complexion.
“Oh, that’s right,” you say, eyes widening in recognition, “Sohui, right? Donghyuck’s girlfriend?”
“Yup,” she says, “I just wanted to say thank you for that day. When you spoke up for me… I really appreciated it.”
You smile. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.”
Sohui scoots over to sit next to you. “I absolutely love your dress. It’s so pretty.”
“Thanks. I really like yours too.”
Silence ensues for a moment, then she says, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“It’s about Donghyuck.”
Your grip on your glass tightens just the slightest. Of course it would be about Donghyuck.
“I just wanted to ask, when will this whole fake dating thing end? I know I might seem like a really jealous girlfriend right now, but… I’m actually asking for Donghyuck.”
For Donghyuck? “I’m not sure,” you reply truthfully, “but I can try to speed things up. I’m sorry about having to hog him like this; I know it’s not easy for you both.”
Her perfect face almost melts with relief. “Thank you,” she says, “that would be great. Donghyuck’s just been really stressed lately and I’m worried about him.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why has he been stressed? Did he say something?”
Sohui sighs, her shoulders falling into a slump. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Okay then. I don’t know how to put this any other way, but… it might be because of you.”
And then she tells you. She finally tells you the reason why Donghyuck had spent the majority of his life hating you.
Your expression never once falters, not even a bit. Not even when Donghyuck returns and you witness his face light up at the sight of his real girlfriend.
You will not falter.
—
“Hey,” Donghyuck says, his voice filling the silence that had been permeating the car all the way back. “You’re being unusually quiet today.”
You fiddle with the embroidered flowers sewn into your dress, iridescent in the shaft of moonlight streaming through the car window. Tonight, even the beautiful artistry of fashion fails to make you smile.
“I’m just tired.”
Donghyuck laughs. “I didn’t ever think you could run out of energy at events like these. You always looked so perfectly put together at every single social function. Unlike me. God, I always found it all so tiring. I could never understand how you did it.”
You didn’t know me, you bite back the urge to say, just like how I still don’t know you.
It seems like years pass before he reaches your house, and for once, you can’t wait to bolt out of the car, to run as far away from him as possible.
“By the way, I wanted to tell you something.”
You respond with a questioning glance. Donghyuck’s gaze darts away from you and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“When I first saw you just now… I didn’t think you looked bad at all. Really.”
Your heart stills for a moment.
“I thought you looked... really pretty. I mean, you still look… really pretty, of course.”
You give him a polite smile, say thank you and goodnight, step out of the car and walk away until you hear the sound of the engine revving.
It is then that you finally fall apart.
“His hatred for you… it’s because he feels that you’re tying him down. Holding him back from all the things he wants to achieve. He told me that he hated you because he was made to marry you from the start and he viewed this marriage as a prison. He feels that you’re taking his freedom away from him.”
Your head spins.
“So you can probably see… having to spend all this time with you… it’s taking a toll on him. I think for his sake, you should end it soon.”
You let out a bitter chuckle at your own hypocrisy—you wanted to help him reach for the stars, but you’re the one who’s chaining him to the ground.
Your house stands before you like a castle gleaming in the starlight. You sigh, a soft sound that escapes immediately into the darkness.
All this time, you were merely building castles in the air. How naive of you to believe that what you and Donghyuck had could ever be real.
But you’re strong and you don’t need anyone, you tell yourself. You close your eyes, imagining the moonlight washing away the pain, the starlight making you new and whole again. You’ll be ready to make things right; it’s the least you can do for Donghyuck.
And you? You’ll be okay. You always are.
—
“Darling, you look absolutely fabulous.”
You won’t demur or say otherwise, not when you actually do think you look ready to rule the goddamn universe tonight.
You decided on a dress from POEM Couture’s autumn-winter collection, and you really do think you look like a dream, ethereal almost. Your hair is put up in a low tendril twist bun with curled wisps escaping from the knot, framing the sides of your face.
You’re about to head downstairs to check in on the decorations when your phone screen lights up with a message.
From: hyuck
happy birthday, see u later ;) mayhaps i got u a present
Jaw tightening, you put your phone facedown on your desk.
Don’t ruin your makeup, you say sternly to yourself, swallowing harshly to get rid of the sudden thickness in your throat.
You just need to get through this night and everything will be okay again.
—
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for being here to celebrate my daughter’s 18th birthday with us today.”
Donghyuck looks out at the sea of people in stiff suits and designer dresses, and pulls uncomfortably at his necktie. How many of these people do you actually know, he wonders? They’re probably your parents’ colleagues, friends, rivals, people they wanted to show you off to. They’re milling about at your birthday celebration, making polite, small talk and pretending like they actually want to be here.
“Y/N has always been the most perfect child,” your mother coos into the mic, “and we’re so lucky to have her as our daughter. Today is a very special day; our daughter has grown up into a beautiful young lady, with a beautiful mind of her own. And I’m so happy that she has finally found the one for her to blossom through her eighteenth year with.” She sends a wink in Donghyuck’s direction, and he offers back a weak smile while his own parents look proudly on.
He wonders where you are, and why you haven’t replied to his text. Then again, he imagines that you must be absolutely swamped with preparations for today. He makes a mental note to go find you later so he can pass you your present in private.
“All right, I won’t delay this anymore. After all, this is my daughter’s night, not mine. Everyone, I present to you, Y/N!”
Like magic, you appear from the shadows of the upper wing and all goes quiet.
Donghyuck’s eyes widen.
He doesn’t know much about fashion, but it doesn’t take much to realize that you’re dressed to kill tonight. The midnight purple bodice of your gown fades out into a lush pink in a glorious ombre, like twilight melding with a rosy sunrise. Your hair is delicately tied in a low bun, curly wisps gently kissing the sides of your face. Under the luminous light of the chandelier above, your skin is aglow with radiance, eyes aflame with a sparkle that takes his breath away.
As you descend the grand staircase, a hand on the gold rail, a regal aura is composed around you and time seems to stop. Donghyuck swears he can hear several sharp intakes of breath.
You look just like a princess.
You look like you have the blood of a royal running through your veins. If Donghyuck has the ability to command and captivate with his voice, you too have that same ability, but with your mere presence.
“Oh, my darling daughter,” your mother gushes, arms extended towards you. She raises a hand towards Donghyuck, signalling him to come over.
“I’m so glad you two are finally together. I mean, we knew it would happen all along, but now that it’s finalized, I can rest assured,” she announces, and Donghyuck finds that he can scarcely lift his eyes to meet yours; you’re simply too dazzling.
The crowd erupts into applause, and at first it is low, quiet him, but it soon morphs into a collective cheer, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
You cast a despairing glance at your mother, trying to convey to her the sheer impropriety of such a notion, but she merely winks at you and whispers, “Don’t worry, we’re not all that old-fashioned.”
Unconsciously, you grab a fistful of your dress as your heart begins to race. You simply cannot kiss Donghyuck, that would literally be the end of you. Donghyuck would hate it with every fibre of his being, and you don’t want to force him into doing this; he would hate you even more than he already does. You absolutely cannot bear the thought of tasting the disgust on his lips—
A warm hand closes around yours, the one that’s nervously clutching onto the folds of your dress. Your fist uncurls and your relaxes as Donghyuck threads his fingers through yours, his grip firm but gentle. He places his other hand on your cheek and whispers so softly that you know it is meant for your ears alone,
“Can I kiss you?”
You look up into his eyes, expecting to find reluctance and discomfort, but instead, his eyes are burning with a sort of—you wouldn’t call it desire, not exactly, but more of determination to see this moment through, because he too knows that there’s no way out of this.
So you let your eyelids flutter shut to indicate your assent; you might as well get this done and over with, it’s all meaningless anyway and Donghyuck knows it too.
But the moment his lips meet yours, a shower of sparks explodes in your chest and you can feel your heart sing. Your grip on his hand tightens as you attempt to hold him close and you will this moment to last forever so that you can memorize the sweet taste of his lips on yours, the heat of his hand against your cheek, handling you with such gentleness and care you almost believe this charade you’re both playing is real. He presses his lips against yours just a little deeper, draws you closer to him ever so slightly, thumb stroking your flushed cheek, and a shiver of electricity jolts through your veins, sending a chill down your spine—maybe the castles you’d been building in the air can be real after all.
But this isn’t a fairytale, and your happy ever after won’t come by so easily.
Donghyuck’s lips leave yours. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and the castles crumble right before you. You can’t hear the whoops and cheers arising from all around—in that moment, all you are aware of is Lee Donghyuck, gazing down at you with the darkness of midnight in his eyes and stardust streaked across his face.
You’re suddenly transported back to a cramped, dimly-lit closet, where a boy huddled so close to you you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear and see the beauty spots that speckled his skin. Like stardust.
“... if I kiss you, you might just fall in love with me. Can’t risk that now, can we?”
How right he is. You almost let out a sardonic laugh right then and there.
You’re royally screwed, and all it took was a single kiss.
—
You gaze out at the cityscape below you, breathing in the cool night air on the balcony and watching the twinkling nightlife of the rest of the world. You hope the chilly winds will cool the warmth in your cheeks and restore your former composure, so you won’t look like you’ve just been wrecked apart with the mere sensation of Donghyuck’s lips on yours.
That would be too humiliating.
You’re about to turn around and go back to the party, back to where you should be, when you feel a soft tug on your bun. Your hair escapes free from its tight hold and falls down your back, a long and lustrous stream illuminated by moonlight.
You turn to the side and see Donghyuck, eyes gleaming with mischief. The familiarity of this action makes your heart swell; it’s like he’s reminding you of the memories he made with you. It’s like he’s deliberately making this so damn difficult for you.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten that you haven’t returned me my Scrunchie,” you say, and Donghyuck lets out a loud guffaw.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back soon.”
Then his gaze suddenly drops away from yours, towards the floor. He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks blazing. “About just now—,”
“Thank you for that. I really appreciated it, and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“N-No,” Donghyuck says, a little too quickly, “it was fine for me.. Really. I was actually wondering if you were okay with it.”
Oh, he had no idea.
“We did what we had to do, and that’s all that matters,” you reply, turning away from him to face the night.
You two stand in silence for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as you gather up the courage let Donghyuck go.
Now.
“Y/N,” Donghyuck starts, right at the exact moment you say, “I think it’s time.”
Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, eyes focused on you. “You go first.”
You take a deep breath and plough forth. No turning back now. “I think it’s time to stop this. Tomorrow I’ll tell my parents that I want to cancel the engagement.”
Donghyuck freezes, eyes wide, and for a moment you think you saw a glimpse of hurt flash across his eyes. But you must be deluding yourself.
“Why?”
You raise an eyebrow in feigned incredulity. “What do you mean why? We were supposed to end all of this after we tried it out for a while, just to show our parents that we were putting in the effort. I’ll let them know tomorrow that I want to break up with you. I think we’ve fake dated for long enough and it should be enough to convince our parents. It’s time we both moved on, don’t you think?” you say, doing your best to keep your tone light while twirling a lock of hair around your finger and hoping you were a picture-perfect portrait of absolute indifference. And not a shaking mess.
Donghyuck’s eyes are glassy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked crushed.
“I just have one question,” he says, eyes boring into you, “well, two, actually.”
You lift your chin to meet his gaze, a defiant shine in your eyes and a coy smile on your lips. “Go ahead.”
“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”
It is your turn to freeze. Why would he ask this? And how can you possibly tell him that when he kissed you it was like a thousand angels were singing in unison, and you felt your heart soaring to places it had never been before? That if you could, you would grab his collar, pull him towards you and claim his lips just once more—
“Are you drunk right now, Lee Donghyuck? That’s literally the craziest thing to ask. Of course I didn’t.”
His eyes harden. “Great. Just… one more question then.”
You cross your arms over your chest because your hands are shaking visibly and you’re unable to stop them.
“Is this what you really want?”
Again, you’re assaulted by a wave of deja-vu—the same cold, starlit night on a different balcony, where he’d asked you the same question in all earnestness. Previously you weren’t sure if he really cared what you wanted, but now that you know he truly cares, it makes it all the more painful.
“I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”
You bite down hard on your lip, suppressing the wildness in you that screams no.
“Again, that’s a stupid question. Of course it’s what I want. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s what we both want, isn’t it? You wanted so much to break our marriage contract because you hate me. That’s why we’re doing all this in the first place.”
A film descends over his eyes at that moment and your heart breaks.
“You’re right,” he says after what seems like an eternity, voice barely above a whisper, “we should have ended this long ago. I’m sorry. For wasting your time.”
Your heart breaks at his words, even though you’d seen them coming from a mile away and you really don’t have the right to expect anything else. Your heart breaks at the way he’s already slipping away from you.
Even though he was never yours to begin with.
He steps closer to you and takes your wrist. You feel a prickle of electricity course through your bones, but he merely hands you a large shopping bag.
“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he says, with a smile that appears forced and yet genuine all at once. Like he really wants to smile at you but he can’t bring himself to.
And with that, he turns and leaves. You grip tightly onto the bag, fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as his silhouette fades back into the glow of the ballroom.
You don’t even have it in you to cry, to regret, to yell for him to come back.
Because the moment he left a gaping hole tore through you and now you are just too filled up with empty to feel anything.
—
Hey Y/N,
Happy birthday! I can’t believe it’s been so long since we started hanging out. Honestly, I’d long forgotten about our contract, and now that I think about it, it’s actually so stupid—how did we even come up with that bullshit? Then again, I guess I’m glad we did, because it gave us the opportunity to hang out and without it, I would never have known what a great person you are.
Here’s your Scrunchie (did you really think I wouldn’t give it back lol) and your birthday present, because I’m sorry I got gravy on your ugly ass Prada bag. Don’t worry, this one’s also from Prada, and I think it’s SO much nicer—my mum helped me get it custom made. I personally chose all the colors and the design, and it has your name inscribed inside so you’d better not lose it. Don’t you dare get gravy on this one or else I’ll literally come for your ass.
All right, now that that’s out of the way, it’s confession time. You’re right, I did hate you before (and it’s not because I hate pink, I swear), but I realized that it wasn’t personal. I just hated having to marry you, not because of you, but I just didn’t want to be in an arranged marriage. I thought that would take all my freedom away and I really didn’t want that. I’m sorry for hating you so much—that was just plain stupid of me.
But in a funny way, even though I saw you as killing my freedom, you were the one who gave it back to me—you were the one who rekindled my love for singing at a time when everyone around me was telling me I should give it up. I can’t believe you still remembered that I sing, by the way. I didn’t even know that you knew, so that was pretty cool of you. So yeah, I just wanted to say thank you for that, you have no idea how much it meant to me. How important it was to me. If you look inside the Prada bag you’ll find a USB drive. I’d actually been working on a song for you for a couple months just to say thank you. It’s called “Beautiful Time”, and I really hope you’ll like it.
I hope that whatever happens next, we’ll always be friends, because you’re seriously one of the coolest and strongest people I know. Sometimes I wish I had your strength; I don’t know if you know this, but you’re so strong it makes me jealous sometimes. It’s crazy how we’re the same age but you’re just so much more mature and stronger. You’re just… so amazing sometimes.
All right, before I puke writing this, let’s just end it here. Here’s to many more memories and great times, have a great birthday Y/N <3
Hey I just wanted to say I loved castles in the air and I’m excited to see where it goes! You’re a really good writer! Do you have an update schedule for it?
hi!! thank you so much hehe ❤️ the story will be finished and uploaded by the end of this week! :)
warnings; mentions of alcohol and drinking in this chapter!
foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after.
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You stand before your wardrobe, faced with yet another clothing dilemma. You love fashion and dressing up, you really do, but sometimes it can be a real pain in the ass.
If this were another soirée or evening function, you’d know exactly what to wear—that gorgeous Isabella Militao dress you’d been saving for a spectacular debut. That would be sure to make jaws drop; it was a gift fashioned by the loving hand of Aphrodite herself.
But you’re going to a high school party, and you don’t think girls turned up in the latest garb fresh off the runways of New York Fashion Week.
You think back to when Donghyuck asked you to go to the party with him (“because we actually need to seem like we’re dating”), and you asked him what to wear. He’d scoffed and you nearly socked him in the face.
“How would I know? Your parents literally own Seoul’s biggest fashion brand. And you’ll look good in whatever.”
If that had been a genuine compliment, you would have been flattered. But it was the tone in which he’d said it, that matter-of-fact, detached voice devoid of any tinge of personal belief or emotion that made it clear he was merely stating a truism, an indisputable fact. He might as well have said that the sky was blue.
You eventually decide on a red sleeveless silk floral dress that stops slightly above mid-thigh. It’s not exactly the most modest article of clothing you own, but it’ll have to do.
When you get in Donghyuck’s car, he doesn’t even glance over to see what you’re wearing, a stark reminder that this clearly isn’t a real date. You on the other hand, can’t help but sneak peeks at his outfit (it’s just the fashionista in you, you swear): a denim jacket thrown over a casual white button-up shirt and dark jeans. A simple look, but surprisingly he makes it work.
You quickly look away before he catches you staring.
He drives in complete silence and before long you reach your destination. Upon entering the house, Donghyuck immediately leaves your side to reunite with five other boys; you have to stand alone for a hot minute and bear witness to the fist bumps, back slaps and bro hugs going all around.
“Who’s this?” One of the boys asks, his blue hair gleaming underneath the faux strobe lights.
You open your mouth to reply, but Donghyuck beats you to it. “My girlfriend. Everyone, this is Y/N.” He sounds like he’s gritting his teeth while introducing you as his girlfriend, which makes you want to laugh; after all, he’s brought this upon himself.
“Hi,” you say, smiling at the boys, “it’s nice to meet you guys.”
“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” the blue-haired boy steps forward and says, flashing you a wide grin that sparks a curious flutter in your chest.
“Did you break up with Sohui?” A brooding, dark-haired boy asks Donghyuck. It’s clear to see that he has none of that chipper energy Jaemin possesses.
Donghyuck’s gaze becomes shifty and he clears his throat awkwardly before replying, “Yeah.”
What a lie.
Before you can think too much about it, Jaemin whisks you all away for a game of spin the bottle. The consequence? 7 minutes in heaven.
You’d heard of the game before but you didn’t think people actually played it at parties; it all seemed so terribly cliche. Looks like you were dead wrong, because once the bottle lands Jaemin and then you everyone’s in an uproar and you’re panicking because you really don’t want to lose your first kiss to a stranger, however hot he may be. Heck, you’d rather do it with Donghyuck; at least he’s a familiar enemy.
Jaemin smirks at you and grabs your wrist, gesturing towards a nearby closet (god, the sheer disgrace you feel, what would your parents say?) and your heart starts thumping in your ribcage, the butterflies from earlier entirely gone. You contemplate breaking out into a sprint for the bathroom or just running out to the garage and driving Donghyuck’s car away into the night. You look over at Donghyuck, hoping that he can read your mind and get you out of this situation (you know he hates you but surely he doesn’t hate you that much), but he’s staring at you with a glazed expression on his face and you can’t believe he’s about to offer you up like a lamb to the slaughter, that asshole—
“I’ll do it instead,” Donghyuck suddenly stands and grabs your free hand, tugging you away from Jaemin. Without waiting for his response he drags you behind him to the closet, pulls you in and shuts the door with a loud slam.
You release the breath you’d unconsciously been holding and start to sink down onto the cushions littered about in the dark, dank and cramped space, but then you stop short Donghyuck places a hand on your arm. He shrugs off his jacket and shoves it into your hands, whispering, “Your dress.”
When you two are finally seated, his jacket draped over your lap, you ask in a slight whisper, “What do we do now?”
At this, Donghyuck breaks out into a sardonic smile, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “We’re not going to do anything. Don’t forget that I have a girlfriend, and if I kiss you, you might just fall in love with me. Can’t risk that now, can we?”
You try to ignore the way his breath tickles your ear and the fact that it’s not an entirely uncomfortable sensation. You hate the way Donghyuck plays with you like this, as though he’s constantly reminding you that he will never be yours, arranged marriage or not.
You press yourself into your corner of the closet to get as far away as possible from him, before taking out your phone and instinctively scrolling through Twitter, your lifeline—it’s almost like a coping mechanism, the way you try to get lost in your timeline filled with pictures of the Albertine bookstore and 90’s Chanel gowns to try and forget the fact that you’re currently stuck in a musty closet with your childhood enemy. Donghyuck does the same; he pulls out his phone and starts typing rapidly. You figure he’s texting Sohui to complain.
Before long the 7 minutes are up and the boys are pounding on the closet door. You sigh; they sound like ravenous zombies lying in wait to chew you out when you emerge. You’re about to push the door open when Donghyuck puts a hand on your arm; you turn to face him with the most annoyed expression can muster. What now?
Without warning, he reaches behind you and pulls out the scrunchie that’s holding your hair in a high ponytail. You nearly yelp at him in surprise as your hair spills past your shoulders, utterly dishevelled (also, that’s a limited edition Chanel scrunchie right there) but he must have seen it coming because he places his hand over your mouth, quick as a flash. Leaning in close, he whispers in your ear, “We have to look like we just made out, idiot.”
You flash him an angry glare which soon turns into a look of sheer embarrassment as he unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, a sliver of light through the crack in the closet falling on his now exposed collarbone. You look away hastily, thankful that the darkness obscures the blush creeping up your cheekbones.
He’s about to push open the door when he suddenly hisses, “Shit, I almost forgot the most important thing. I need to get some of your lip gloss off.”
Against your better judgement, you acquiesce. Anything to get out of this literal hellhole.
Closing your eyes, you feel a warm palm on the back of your head and you brace yourself. You feel his thumb running across your bottom lip in one swift but gentle motion, and when you open your eyes he’s swiping it across his own.
The blush in your cheeks intensifies and you look away quickly.
Finally, Donghyuck pushes open the door and a flood of electric purple light streams in. The boys whoop and cheer, and Jaemin invites you to sit next to him. You happily do so, desiring to be in the proximity of anyone other than Donghyuck—you might just combust with embarrassment if you sat next to him after that horrendous episode.
“Are you good at drinking, Y/N?” Jaemin asks, his smile as striking as his cobalt blue hair. He really is a heartthrob.
“Somewhat,” you say, being deliberately evasive; you aren’t about to let him know that your tolerance was limited to dainty sips of Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay typically served at the high-end functions you went to.
“Great! Let’s play a drinking game then,” he says, winking, and the butterflies in your stomach make it hard for you to resist.
Over the course of the next hour, you find yourself in an endless cycle of drinking games—you weren’t bad at those games, and it wasn’t very often that you had to drink, but when you did, the single shot of soju burned your throat on the way down and seemed to erode your consciousness along the way. You can feel your cheeks getting hotter and hotter, and the laughing faces of the boys seem to pass by in a hazy blur.
“Y/N,” a low voice chimes in your ear; it’s a stern, familiar voice. You frown instinctively; you have a pretty good idea of who it is, even if you can’t see him. “Stop it. You don’t have to keep drinking if you can’t handle it.”
You wave him off; there’s no way you’re drunk. “Who… Who said I can’t handle it? I’m no… lightweight.”
“Yeah… She seems to be managing fine, right Y/N?” Another voice, this one slurred and a little too mirthful to be sober. A flash of blue hair. It’s the cute boy, you think to yourself and smile.
“Enough,” the stern voice cuts in again, right when you are about to reach up and touch the boy’s hair, to see if it feels like cotton candy as much as it looks.
You feel an arm snaking round your waist, forcing you to stand up. Your head rests on something firm and solid; it’s almost comfortable, but you want to keep drinking. You have to prove that you can hold your liquor; you are Y/N, for goodness’ sake, and you can do anything you set your mind to.
But before you can open your mouth to protest, the world begins to spin and darkness swallows you whole; you have no choice but to fall into it without resistance.
—
This isn’t what Donghyuck envisioned when you decided to take you to the party.
He didn’t expect to have to get stuck in a closet with you for a whole 7 minutes. He didn’t expect you to get dead drunk while slobbering all over Jaemin. And he certainly didn’t expect to be hauling you on his back to the front step of your house and having to present your dismally inebriated form to your mother.
“I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck says, hoping he comes across as apologetic enough, “I should’ve taken better care of her.”
To his utter astonishment, your mother waves off his apology with a flick of her hand. “Don’t worry about it! I expected this to happen; Y/N has never been to a party without us before. I’m glad you were with her; god knows what would have happened to her if you weren’t there!”
Donghyuck resists the urge to chortle. What are you, a child?
“Could you take her up to her room please? I’ll get the housekeeper to run her a bath.”
“Sure,” he says, grimacing inwardly at the thought of having to lug your deadweight up four flights of stairs; thank goodness there’s an elevator.
He tries his best not to dump you unceremoniously onto your bed, taking care to remove your strappy sandals. When the job is done, he’s about to leave when something on your desk catches his eye. He walks over and picks it up, turning on your desk lamp for better lighting.
In his hands lies a framed photo of the two of you when you first met as kids—you in a bright pink dress adorned with a monstrosity of ribbons, him in a suit. You’re both sitting on a park bench holding hands; he’s staring at the camera with a stony expression, while your smile looks more like a grimace.
The memory of that day rushes to greet him, clear as day—it was the first time he saw you, and it was on the same day that it was announced that you were going to be his future bride. It was the day he started his campaign of relentless hate towards you, the day he decided that you were to be his lifelong enemy.
Donghyuck sets the picture down on your desk with more force than intended. Why would you still keep it? Did you really want a constant reminder of your betrothal to him? Did you really want a constant reminder of him?
His whirlwind of thoughts is interrupted by a weak voice. “Donghyuck?”
He walks over to your bed where you lie intoxicated, cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded, tangled locks of hair strewn across your pillow.
“You’re awake,” he says, voice flat.
“I… said… I wasn’t drunk… idiot…”
Nope. Still wasted.
“Just go to sleep. Your bath will be ready soon,” he’s about to leave when you lift your hand to latch weakly onto his wrist.
“Wait,” you mumble, “I… have to ask you… something.”
“What is it?”
At this, your lips turn into a pout. “I know… you’re… a liar.”
“What?”
“You…,” you gesticulate aimlessly at him—after all, finding words is such a chore when you’re hardly sober— “when we were young… you said that… you hated me because I was wearing… pink.”
Donghyuck’s breath hitches in his throat; he can’t believe you can remember that.
“Yes; what about it?”
“You’re lying. That’s… a stupid reason… for hating someone. So tell me… why exactly… do you hate me so much?”
Donghyuck feels his heartbeat pick up but he keeps his lips pursed.
“I never told you this… but… it hurts. It hurts how… you don’t even want to be friends with me…” you ramble on, lips forming a pout while your eyelids get heavier and heavier. “Why don’t you like me…” Your eyelids flutter shut and your breathing evens, and Donghyuck releases the breath he’d been holding.
Donghyuck feels the sour pang of guilt creep up on him. Granted, you’d never done anything to warrant his hate for you; he simply detests your very existence, which isn’t something you can help. It never once occurred to him that you’d be hurt by him—he didn't think he mattered to you at all. He can’t believe you still remember what he’d said to you all those years ago. Sighing, he rakes a hand through his hair; perhaps some soul-searching is in order.
He pauses for a moment, watching the way your eyelashes graze your cheekbones ever so slightly. Your cheeks and lips are flushed cherry pink from all that drinking, and a stray lock of hair spills across your face. He reaches out to draw it away from your face, marvelling at how normal you look for once; your sleeping face is so tranquil, like a child’s. No one would ever be able to guess at how you are nothing less than a perfect, infallible human being. It’s easy for him to forget how you’re the same age as him; you just seem to possess a maturity way beyond your youth that Donghyuck really can’t wrap his head around.
He gently drapes the duvet over you, and he’s about to leave when he sees that his denim jacket is still wrapped snugly around your body, though it’s a couple sizes too large for your slight frame.
He can let you have it for a little while.
—
You proudly hand your mother your school journal, decorated with pink glitter and purple felt butterflies you painstakingly cut out yourself. On the first page, the words “My Dream Job” are neatly inscribed in cursive lettering, with hearts over the i’s.
“Mrs Lee asked us to write down our dream job today,” you gush, pigtails bouncing with excitement. “Look what I wrote!”
Your mother smiles as her eyes skim over the words ‘fashion designer’. You gabble on.
“I told the class I wanted to take over your company when I grow up and become a fashion designer just like you!”
“Very good, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. I have no doubt that will happen,” she says, patting the top of your head.
“Oh, I also asked Donghyuck what he wanted to be. He said he wants to be a singer when he grows up.”
Your mother’s hand falls from your head and she frowns. “Does he?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that cool? I told him that was really cool.”
Her expression turns austere. “There’s no future in that, Y/N. You should tell him to be like you and take over his family’s company. That way he’ll be successful.”
“But he’s good at singing,” you protest, eyes shining with the memory of his voice, “and he looks so happy when he’s singing. If he’s happy, won’t he be successful too?”
—
“Do you still sing?”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at you as he chugs his iced coffee. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s called making conversation. It might not be in our contract, but did you intend to sit in silence until the sun sets and we go home?”
It’s your turn to pick a date, so you’ve dragged Donghyuck to a music cafe with a stage by the entrance where a teenage boy sings soulful R&B tunes. You weren’t being entirely truthful when you told him you were just making conversation; you did want to know if he still sang. To see if he was prepared for what you were about to throw him into.
“Sometimes,” he says, “maybe one day I’ll serenade you. With a song about how annoying you are.”
You resist the urge to toss your steaming mug of chamomile tea in his face. These days, after your horribly embarrassing encounter at the party (Donghyuck insists that you threw up in his car, but you don’t remember that at all), his attitude toward you seems to have shifted. Sure, he’s still mean, but not resentful. He doesn’t seem to hate you that much anymore; when he says spiteful things you can sense its teasing undertones.
You wonder what sparked this change. Shouldn’t he detest you even more? You literally threw up in his car—or so he claims. Or maybe he’s finally come to his senses and recognizes just how lovable you are.
You load up your smile like a gun.
“You do that,” you say, raising your hand to beckon someone over. To Donghyuck’s surprise, the manager of the cafe scoots over, and when he leans down you whisper something into his ear. The man chuckles and sends a curious glance at Donghyuck.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” you say, smiling sweetly and taking a sip of your coffee.
The performer ends the song, and bows to polite claps from the audience. The manager you just spoke to goes up on stage, voice filling the room.
“Thank you Jihoon, that was lovely as usual. Next up we have Lee Donghyuck—this is his first time performing, so do give him your encouragement!”
Donghyuck literally jumps in his seat and you stifle your laugh. He sends a death glare in your direction and mouths I’m going to kill you. You clap for him in response, that sweet smile never leaving your face. You’ll get it from him later, no doubt, but this is totally worth it.
Donghyuck finally gets up and trudges over to the stage. He steps up to the mic, closes his eyes for the briefest of instants, and his lips part.
You expected, after all these years, that his voice would have hardened somehow, taken on a rougher edge, flavoured with the accents of a baritone. However, Donghyuck surprises you yet again—his voice is just as airy and angelic as it was nearly a decade ago, and every line he sings is like a stream of honey pouring forth from his lips. He breezes through countless high notes effortlessly in a way that sends chills down your spine, without so much as a twitch of neck muscle; he loads every word with so much emotion that it seems like the euphonious melody is coming to life right before your very eyes. The other patrons in the cafe are spellbound, drinks and conversation long forgotten; he’s bewitched everyone, and there’s no escaping.
In short, Lee Donghyuck is still a marvellous singer. And possibly a siren.
When he’s done, it is silent for a moment, the aftereffects of his spell still lingering. And then a single clap from the manager breaks the reverie and soon everyone is applauding in awe and surprise. There are even a few cheers.
You watch as he smiles and bows bashfully before walking down the stage, leaving his five minutes of fame behind. His cheeks glow under the warm light of the cafe; he looks absolutely ethereal.
“What do you think?” He asks as he slides into his seat. You can almost feel the passion flowing from him in waves.
You stare at him, starstruck. How could you possibly tell him that you never want him to stop singing, that you actually would like to be serenaded by him, that you want to wake up and fall asleep to the sound of his voice every single day?
So you settle for, “N-Not bad.” Yes, you stuttered. You hope your cheeks won’t betray you.
Donghyuck smirks. “Really? Your face tells me something else.”
Instinctively, you place a hand on your cheek—it’s burning. You take a large gulp of coffee to hide the flames in your cheeks; Donghyuck’s smirk only grows wider.
Avoiding his gaze, you ask, “Anyway, what song was that? I’ve never heard it before.”
He rubs the back of his neck with his palm. “Actually, I wrote it.”
“You what?”
“I wrote it. Want me to announce it to everyone?”
You can’t believe it. Not only does this boy before you have the voice of an angel, he’s a lyrical genius too? The world is simply not fair.
“Wow.” You lean back in your chair, all attempts at unfazed composure gone. “That’s actually crazy. You’re actually crazy.”
You look back at Donghyuck, expecting him to look smug, but instead his lips are pursed and his gaze is downcast.
“What’s wrong? Upset that your identity as a secret genius has been exposed?”
“No, it’s just… I wrote this song for Sohui. I thought she would love it, especially since she’s always been super supportive about my singing and songwriting. But… she doesn’t like it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She said I should have bigger dreams now. Apparently, I can’t get anywhere with this.”
You keep silent, wondering how she could possibly say that to him. Heck, if a boy wrote you a song and serenaded you with it you’d probably get down on one knee and profess your undying love to him.
“Maybe… maybe she’s right. My parents say that all the time too. I shouldn’t be singing anymore. It’s time to grow up. You can’t make money out of dreams.”
He looks so crestfallen, the incandescent shine that had previously graced him completely vanished. That shine of passion was what set him ablaze and made him look so euphoric, and now it’s gone, like a candle snuffed out by the darkness.
You want to get it back for him. You want to see that look of pure bliss spread across his face. You want to see him shining bright and luminous again.
“So, what? You’re just going to stop singing then?” You ask, folding your arms across your chest, “I thought you were more determined than that. Once you’d set your mind on something, you wouldn’t let it go. That’s how you nursed that burning hatred you had for me, right?”
He has the good grace to blush.
You lean across the table and look him straight in the eye. “And I thought you could care less what others thought; that’s why we’re doing all this. That’s why we’re going against our parents’ will and fighting this bloody engagement. The Lee Donghyuck I know won’t go down without a fight, especially if it’s something he clearly loves so much.”
One final push. “But I could be wrong. I mean, I don’t really know you.”
Donghyuck’s head snaps upward and he stares right at you; you can see the fire in his eyes. Whether it's rage or passion, it doesn’t matter. You managed to rile him up. That was all you wanted. That’s the only way to keep his flame burning.
—
The drive home is filled with a pregnant silence. You wonder if you took it too far; after all, you and Donghyuck aren’t exactly the chummiest of friends. Maybe you overstepped the boundary a little.
But all you know is that you won’t stand by and let him give up such a blessing, something that clearly gives him so much joy. You won’t let him become an empty shell.
You of all people know how that feels.
When you reach home, you unbuckle your seatbelt and say goodbye. “Thanks for today, Donghyuck. You can choose the next date.”
You’re about to reach for the door and get out, but Donghyuck stops you with a hand on your wrist.
“Y/N,” he says, and you look at him, acutely aware of the sensation of his fingers clasped around your wrist. His gaze burns into yours in a way that makes your heart jolt and your brain question everything you ever thought you’d felt about him.
You wonder whether, in an alternate universe, things could have been different between you two.
“Thank you,” he finally says, gaze softening, the faintest hint of a smile etched on his lips.
foreword; in which even though you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, you won’t be getting your happy ever after.
next chapter >>
“Which dress would you like to wear tonight, miss?”
Not a pink dress. Donghyuck hates pink.
You resent yourself for it, but it’s the first thought that pops into your mind when the nice boutique lady presents your options to you: a peachy pink Alex Perry gown that reminds you of what you used to like when you were ten, a bold red Lia Stubella one that screamed movie star (except you clearly aren’t one), and a glamorous Elie Saab champagne silk dress that was honestly beautiful but had a plunging neckline that was a little too low for your comfort.
You eye the pink dress warily, remembering the first time you met Lee Donghyuck. Back when you had even less of a say in the clothes you wore, your mother had forced you into a stiff candy pink dress with ribbons all around the waist. You felt like a walking stick of cotton candy, but your mum insisted that you looked adorable. Donghyuck gave you the stink eye all throughout dinner, and when you privately asked him why, he mumbled something about having a raging hatred for pink.
It would be a hilarious anecdote if you could look back on it fondly with Donghyuck, safe in the knowledge that you two were best friends now, but reality is quite the opposite. You’re not best friends, neither are you two even friends.
No. Definitely not pink, you think to yourself, mentally crossing it out even though a part of you wanted to wear it just to see the look on his face, to elicit some sort of reaction from him; it didn’t matter if it was one of disgust. It would be better than nothing.
Because resentment was the only form of emotion he could ever seem to spare you.
—
Lee Donghyuck watches Sohui as she slings the tie around his neck and does a perfect knot, her deft fingers occasionally grazing his chest. She’s clad in a simple, off-shoulder white dress and wears minimal makeup, her inky black hair a glossy cascade down her back.
She looks like an angel.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go?” Her gentle voice lures Donghyuck from his thoughts and he smiles at her, placing an arm around her waist and drawing her close to him.
“You’re my girlfriend. Of course it’s okay.”
Her gaze is downcast, lips pouted in worry. “But your parents don’t know about me. And what about her—,”
“That’s why you need to come with me tonight. So they can know about you,” Donghyuck tries to keep his tone light to mask his worry; deep down, he too knows that tonight is going to be precarious and defining, and it could either make or break his relationship with Sohui.
When they reach the hotel, Donghyuck laces his fingers through hers, and he’s not sure if it’s to comfort Sohui or himself. He doesn’t miss the way her eyes widen at the intricate glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the artful statues of greek Goddesses posing in all their prehistoric glory, and of course, the people parading all around in their finest evening wear like nobility. It is moments like these when he’s painfully reminded of the sheer gulf between the worlds they come from; his reality exists only in her wildest dreams.
“Donghyuck-ah!”
He whirls round at the sound of his mother screeching his name, bracing himself for the whirlwind of interrogation that is sure to consume him. He tightens his grip on her hand, wondering if he and Sohui will make it out alive.
Mr Lee hurries towards him, the click-clack of her heels against the marble tiles like a mocking countdown towards his impending doom. As expected, she stops short when she sees Sohui, hand interlinked with her son’s, her gaze hardening into one of icy judgement. Mr Lee raises a questioning eyebrow but remains silent.
And so it begins.
“Who is this, Donghyuck?” Mrs Lee asks in a tone of apparent civility but she doesn’t bother masking her cold appraisal of Sohui as she assesses her simple dress, lack of jewelry and unimpressive hairdo, in stark contrast to her own immaculate styling and head-to-toe designer wear.
“Mother, Father, this is Kim Sohui,” Donghyuck says, wrapping an arm around Sohui’s shoulders, “and she’s my girlfriend.”
If looks could kill, Sohui would be writhing on the floor right now.
“I see. It’s nice to meet you, Sohui. How long have you been dating my son?”
The poor girl stares down at the floor, fidgeting. “Four months?”
“And you know that my son’s engaged? And he has been for a period of time way longer than four months.”
The color dissipates from Sohui’s cheeks and she pales instantly. “Yes, Mrs Lee.”
“We can deal with this later, mother—,”
“Mr and Mrs Lee!”
The Lee family meeting is cut short with the arrival of another family; your own.
Donghyuck’s eyes are immediately drawn to you; he clenches his jaw as a film descends over his eyes, that familiar feeling of mutiny washing over him.
He takes in your silk champagne dress, no doubt flown in from the most expensive Parisian or Lebanese designer. He takes in your flawless half-updo that’s been styled to perfection, not a curl of hair out of place. He takes in your polished, elegant strides, six-inch heels notwithstanding. Everything about you is immaculate and impeccable; you appear entirely self-possessed and composed, the very portrait of style and sophistication, grace and glamour.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you greet his parents, a cordial smile playing on your lips when his parents gush over how beautiful you look tonight.
“And who might this young lady be?” Donghyuck flinches when your mother asks, her sharp eyes pinned on Sohui like a predator does prey.
“Oh, she’s just a friend of Donghyuck’s,” Mrs Lee says, at the exact moment Donghyuck blurts out “my girlfriend”.
While everyone falls into stunned silence, anger radiating off his parents in potently palpable waves, Donghyuck’s eyes flit over to you immediately to gauge your reaction. Would this news be enough to shock you, to cause you distress, to cause your perfect facade to crumble for once? Because for once in your life, things weren’t going according to your perfect plan, and they were now out of your control? The very thought causes a sense of triumph to swell through his chest.
But you don’t even bat an eyelid.
Without missing a beat, you break out into a warm smile, extending your hand to Sohui’s. “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“I’m so sorry about my son,” Mrs Lee says, absolutely flabbergasted, “we had absolutely no idea about any of this.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you say, and though Donghyuck tries his hardest to read your expression, you do a perfect job at keeping it inscrutable; he’s unable to figure you out. “We might be engaged, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t date other people, right?”
Your parents look aghast at your flippant reaction, and it nearly causes you to giggle.
“Your daughter is so understanding, as always,” Mrs Lee gushes, “Hyuck really doesn’t deserve her.”
Donghyuck’s head hangs low as he clenches his fists, his mother’s final verdict like a dagger aimed straight for his heart.
He can never win against you.
—
After Mrs Lee banishes Sohui from tonight’s function, Donghyuck vanishes. You set off in search of him, feeling a sort of responsibility for what just happened even though you’re not exactly sure what you should be held accountable for.
You traverse through the crowded expanse of the ballroom, stopping every couple of minutes for people to gush over how lovely your dress is, how exquisite you look tonight (you were indeed the daughter of the largest fashion conglomerate in Seoul; there was no way anyone would tell you your fashion sense was hideous). You smile and either demur or thank them politely, depending on how sycophantic they choose to be. You’re good at playing the game; you’ve been raised your whole life learning the ropes of how to be a people pleaser, how to be charismatic and alluring, how to draw people to you and your cause.
And it’s always worked with just about everyone in your life. Except, of course, for Lee Donghyuck.
The one person you need to charm the most simply refuses to fall under your spell.
It’s frustrating, but more than that, it’s terribly unsettling; is he able to see through your veneer of poise and confidence to the weak, less-than-worthy girl you’re so afraid to acknowledge? You’ve always believed that vulnerability wouldn’t look good on you, and that’s why you try so hard, in every aspect of your life, to maintain that flawless guise, that charade of effortless excellence. Yet, with a single withering sneer or chilly glare, Lee Donghyuck manages to strike down that meticulously manipulated illusion you’d gone to great lengths to construct.
You don’t like it.
You shake off all unpleasant thoughts and slip on your game face as you step out onto the balcony where a familiar lone figure stands deep in thought, a forlorn silhouette in the darkness of the night. The wind whips through your hair as you move to stand next to him; you produce your shawl from your purse and wrap it around your bare arms.
“Hi.”
You don’t look at Donghyuck; a part of you is afraid to see that ever-simmering resentment on his face. But he makes no reply, gazing out at the cityscape beneath you two. You pluck up the courage to continue.
“I’m sorry about Sohui. She seems really nice.”
You hear him exhale, a heavy sound that dissolves into the breeze. Yet he remains silent.
“If you’d like, I can talk to Mrs Lee—,”
“Shut up.”
The words on the tip of your tongue grind to an abrupt halt and die. Donghyuck finally turns towards you, his dark eyes piercing through to your very core.
“Why did you do that?”
Steeling yourself, you match his stare. “I really do think it’s perfectly fine for us to be dating other people. I know you don’t like me, and I won’t force you to. But I just want to remind you that what needs to be done has to be done, when the time comes.”
Donghyuck smirks. “You think I’ll marry you?”
Onward with the diplomatic route you continue. “I hate to put it this way, but you have no choice. We were betrothed to each other since we were kids and we’re bound by a formal contract—,”
At this, Donghyuck grabs your wrist roughly and you lurch forward, torso mere centimetres away from his. He inches his face closer to yours; you can count the beauty spots splayed across the expanse of his honey-gold skin, and the musky scent of his cologne makes your head spin.
You almost gulp in his face. Almost.
“Do you want to marry me?” He asks, all sardonic bitterness gone from his voice. It almost sounds like a genuine question, like he really wants to know your opinion on the matter.
You take a few seconds to clear your head, to formulate a prudent and politically correct reply that your parents would approve of.
But Donghyuck seems to be able to read your mind. “I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”
You chew your lower lip in unease, avoiding his probing gaze. What do you really want? All your life, all you thought you really wanted was to fulfil all the plans your parents had laid out for you even before you were born. To be a good daughter to your parents, a good student to your teachers, a good heiress to the family company. And eventually, a good wife to Donghyuck. Because all these were the means to an eventual end—wealth, material success, approval from your parents, and with those, you’d assumed, would automatically come some form of happiness (a nebulous concept you never truly understood or appreciated). Why should you question your parents, when they’d told you time and again that they only had your best interests at heart?
But now, being faced with Donghyuck’s resolute gaze, the defiant tilt of his chin, with his fingers burning into your skin, you’re not so sure anymore.
What do you want?
“I-I don’t know,” you mutter softly, so softly that it almost gets carried away by the wind into the night. But Donghyuck catches it, and he doesn’t miss the quiver in your voice that tells him it isn’t very often you’re unsure of something and you admit it. His grip on your wrist loosens and he remarks, “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“What?”
“You not knowing something.”
Your cheeks almost colour with embarrassment. You snatch your hand out of his grip, take a step back and straighten up, ashamed of having let your mask of seamless composure slip, even if it was only for an instant. Looking him directly in the eye, you say in a sharp tone, “Don’t ever touch me again without my permission.”
With that, you turn around, your shawl flapping violently behind you in the breeze and hitting Donghyuck in the cheek.
He watches you return to the ballroom and disappear into the ceaseless sea of designer gowns and overpriced tuxedos, right where you belong. But he can’t forget the flash of vulnerability he’d seen in your eyes, the shadow of doubt that made him think maybe you weren’t the infallible robot he always believed you were.
Maybe you too, like him, want to break free from the confines of this cursed matrimonial match.
—
You sit at your desk, working on a history essay that you normally would have completed hours ago but it’s 7pm and you’re not even halfway through yet. You glance outside your bedroom window, or your ivory tower as you like to call it; your house was basically a castle set amid carefully cultivated gardens, and nights of rushing essays made you feel like Rapunzel stuck in an endless cycle of work.
Anyone would say you were practically a princess. Born with the privilege of not a silver but golden spoon in your mouth, you virtually had the world at your fingertips. Your every whim and fancy came true; all you had to do was ask and you would receive.
But no one understood that this just made it even more difficult to prove that you are worthy.
Do you even deserve everything you have? This was a nagging, disturbing question that you would likely never have the answer to.
Before you can delve too deeply into your existential issues, your phone pings with a text.
Lee Donghyuck
Hi.
You almost drop your phone. You had Donghyuck’s contact saved because your parents forced you two to text each other obligatory birthday wishes and congratulations whenever either of you did well in something. The last text was Donghyuck congratulating you on winning the debate nationals half a year ago. His texts always had this note of forced civility, like he’d rather be skinning a cat than sending you a text. But you hadn’t won anything recently, nor was it your birthday, so why did he deign to contact you?
Lee Donghyuck
Can we meet? I need to discuss something with you.
You can’t forget the way he’d momentarily disarmed you, or the way you’d callously left him on the balcony that night. Why would he want anything to do with you after that horribly awkward encounter?
You
When?
Lee Donghyuck
Right now, if you’re free.
It’s funny how your first thought is, what the hell am I going to wear? Then again, it’s not like you have regular midnight escapades with the boy who regards you as the bane of his existence; how would you know the dress code for such an occasion? You end up slipping into your baby pink Adidas tracksuit, the one you usually wear for your night runs—Donghyuck’s strange loathing for pink be damned. You have no intention to endear yourself to him, at least not tonight.
You slip out through the back gate and into the rose garden, where Donghyuck is waiting in the pavilion. His hands are in his pockets and he looks deep in thought, like he’s ruminating on contemporary problems of the 21st century when in reality, you’re sure he’s probably just dreaming about that girlfriend of his. He doesn’t even seem to mind your all-pink ensemble.
“Hey Donghyuck,” you say coolly, determinedly looking ahead of you and refusing to look at him, “let’s make this quick, please. I have an essay to write.” You almost immediately regret how petty that sounds, nothing like the businesslike tone you were striving for.
“Fine.” Did you imagine the mild disdain in his voice? “I just have a proposal for you that I think you might be interested in; I was wondering if you’d want to form an alliance.”
Now that's businesslike. You turn towards him, curiosity aroused. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to marry you; you know that clearly enough. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to marry me either.”
You remain silent, unsure where he’s heading with this.
“The thing is, we never really tried to get close to each other; maybe that’s why our parents are so insistent that we’d be a good match. My parents don't listen to me when I tell them I don’t want to marry you; they say that I’ll get over it, which is bullshit, because I know what I want and it’s not you,” he says, looking over at you, “no offence.”
You smirk. “None taken. Please go on.”
“So if we show them that we’re making the effort to get to know each other better, but it doesn’t work out in the end, maybe they’ll let us off. I mean, mine won’t, but you can tell your parents that you don’t want to marry me; they’ll surely listen to you because you’re literally their darling princess. My parents will have no say then.” The sneer in his tone definitely isn’t imaginary this time.
You consider this for a moment, trying to find loopholes in his plan. “What exactly does ‘getting to know each other better’ entail?”
At this, Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “I need you to keep an open mind about this because it’s for the greater good, Y/N. It’s going to be painful, but I think we should pretend to date each other.”
You keep your expression stoic when really, you feel your heartbeat picking up speed and a surge of heat diffuses across your cheekbones.
Lee Donghyuck never fails to surprise you.
“And your girlfriend is okay with this?”
“Yes, I’ve told her about it; she gave me her full support. After all, it’s all fake anyway. And this way we can break off our engagement faster, which is what we both want.”
You know you should say no but you can’t deny that this was indeed a rather expedient plan. And you would never admit it, but you can’t seem to suppress that clandestine urge that had been bubbling inside of you ever since that encounter with Donghyuck—the urge to, for once in your life, take control of your own decisions. To snatch the reins of your fate away from your parents, to do something for yourself instead of for the people around you. This would be your one and only act of rebellion, the lone stain of sin upon your spotless record of dutiful daughter. The thought fills you with a dark thrill of exhilaration and sends electricity charging through your veins, a feeling foreign to your body. Almost immediately you feel years younger, like an errant child about to undertake a secret mission in the forbidden forest.
“Deal,” you say, extending your hand to Donghyuck’s and finally meeting his gaze with your own. “I look forward to working with you, Lee Donghyuck.”
“That’s such a pretty bracelet. Where did you get it from?”
You’re at your locker when a sweet voice breaks you away from your reverie. You look up to see one of your girlfriends, the pretty Kim Minhee, with Lee Donghyuck in tow.
You look down at your wrist and see the simple silver bracelet adorned with charms of tiny sterling stars. It bathes in the light seeping in through the nearby windows, lustrous in the radiance of warm sunlight.
Your gaze automatically flicks to Donghyuck, and the message in his eyes is clear, accompanied by a slight shake of his head.
It breaks your heart, that he can’t even bring himself to acknowledge the past he shared with you.
“It was a gift,” you say to Minhee, forcing on your best possible impersonation of a smile.
“It’s so beautiful. Not that I’m implying anything, but Valentine’s Day is coming, Hyuck,” she says, nudging her boyfriend's shoulder and laughing. You attempt a laugh but it comes out more like a cough.
Donghyuck tries to smile, but it comes out looking more like a grimace. When your gazes meet again he silently mouths a thank you in your direction.
As they walk away, hands interlocked, you turn back to your locker. You cast a glance down at your bracelet, and you remember when Donghyuck put it on for you on a starlit night last Valentine’s Day, all the while insisting that his love for you was written in the stars. It was so cheesy back then, but you believed him with all your heart; you believed the stars had aligned for you both, you believed your love was sealed in the stars.
But the stars lied.
Sighing, you’re about to unclasp the silver chain from the bracelet and stuff it into your locker, when you pause.
This bracelet, it doesn’t have to remind you of Donghyuck. Even if it does, it brings back memories of a happier time between the two of you that are precious. A time when you were starstruck and in love.
It’s just a pretty bracelet, like Minhee said. One that catches the sunlight and touches warmth lightly to your skin. One that seizes the starlight and ignites within you an incandescent glow of hope.
You keep it on for the whole day, and the day after that, and even on Valentine’s Day too.
a/n; meant to post this on vday but i forgot,,, happy belated vday everyone!! also i realise this is kinda sad for vday but,,, sometimes i like a realistic ending lmao
She was once too young for revenge. But now, she is more than ready to watch them all go up in flames.
She’s got her eyes on her target, watching his every move. Through her perch on the rooftop, she sees him typing away at his desk, occasionally making phone calls and jotting something on a post-it with a branded fountain pen.
To anyone he looked like an ordinary businessman. An honest one, even.
But only she sees the way there’s a darkness around and within his eyes, in a manner that betrays habitual late nights. Late nights setting fire to families and watching them burn in the depths of despair.
Just like what he did to hers.
She could kill him right now. All it would take is for her to slide through the chimney and close her soot-stained fingers around his throat.
But right then a lanky teenage boy strides into the room, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. She watches the way his blonde hair glows like a sheen of perfect gold in the moonlight that streams through the window. His father talks to him in a hushed voice, way out of her earshot, and she watches as he nods diligently.
She can’t help but pity him; how did such a pretty face come to be birthed from such devious heritage, such a devil of a father?
A plan begins to develop in her mind as she creeps back into the shadows. No, she will not kill him yet; a quick death would be far too merciful. Plus, now that an opportunity has just fallen into her lap, it would be stupid of her not to take advantage of it.
She was once too young for revenge. But now, she is more than ready to watch them all go up in flames.
—
As cliche as it sounds, Na Jaemin is immediately intrigued by the new girl from the moment she walks into class.
It’s not because she’s beautiful, although there’s certainly no doubt that she is. Her dark hair is a cascade of silky obsidian fanning against her alabaster skin; her coal-black eyes are large and unblinking, and at present they scan her surroundings with a sharp intensity that goes unnoticed by almost everyone in the room except Jaemin.
And then they land on right on him.
Jaemin’s breath almost catches in his throat. Within her gaze there is a piercing quality so intense that it catches him off guard; it burns.
But then she breaks out into a demure smile, eyes softening radically, and Jaemin thinks he must be imagining things.
No, she was merely a sweet, pretty little thing, and she was going to be his until the next life-threatening mission his father sends his way.
a/n; yooo so idk what this is lol,,, just a lil blurb/ story idea that i wrote on a whim today but lmk if you guys would be interested to see a full story for this ?? if not ill just leave this here haha
I knew that intellectually but it never truly clicked until I opened an old favorite last night to get lost in for the thousandth time. But if you’re a fanfiction author, someone out there is reading and rereading your stories. Someone out there is loving your world and words not just once but over and over and over again.
That’s amazing.
So here’s a shoutout to the readers and rereaders. The commenters and kudosers and lurkers and everyone and anyone who has ever picked a fic up and loved it.
And here’s a shoutout to the writers, in case you need a pick me up or a slight bit of love. Somewhere, out there on a screen under a sky you’ve never seen, your story is coming to life.
