Honestly I think I’m stressing way too much about this, when it should be something I do for fun. So no excuses, no explanations: leggooo
“Yah, Kang Hajoon!”
“What?”
“Are you busy?”
Hajoon looks around his desk at his pile of manga books to read.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing? It’s Sunday in the afternoon!”
Hajoon shifts his phone to his other ear, holding it with his shoulder while flipping a page of his manga. He’s getting to the good part, with the villain about to reveal who’s the mole on the good guy’s team.
“Yah, Kwon Minji, I’m very busy, okay? I have homework.”
“You finished it all yesterday night with Hyunwoo, he told me! Stop lying to me.”
Hajoon sighs exasperatedly, dimly wondering when Minji and Hyunwoo talked since last night. Putting his manga book on the desk face down, he ran a hand through his hair. “Aish, whatever, I said I’m busy!”
“I said stop lying to me! Come over. I wanna go somewhere.”
“Go yourself.”
“My mom won’t let me come back after night by myself.”
“Where are you gonna go for...” Hajoon quickly does the mental math, “four hours? Wait, four hours…”
“C’mon, Hajoon. I really wanna go!”
“Aish, I’m not gonna spend four hours on a Sunday afternoon listening to you sing in a noraebang!”
“Hajoon-ah!”
“No! I’m hanging up!” Hajoon declares. He hesitates for a moment, because real-life Minji would’ve delivered a painful blow to the shin, but then he realizes she’s far, far-away in real life (or at least a good hundred meters). After ending the call, he stares at his phone some, as if waiting for Minji to spring out of it, but soon realizes how silly he’s being. Shoving his phone towards the far end of the table, he grabs his manga book and resumes reading.
He gets through a good three chapters in five minutes when he hears the doorbell ring. Sighing to himself, he’s about to go check who it is when footsteps remind him his sister’s home for the weekend. Settling back down, he tilts his chair back onto its two hind legs and flips a page of his book, rapidly losing interest after finding out who betrayed the protagonist (he’d totally saw it coming).
The door to his room flies open with a loud bang as it crashes onto the wall. Startled, Hajoon almost loses his balance and crashes onto the floor. Setting his book back down, he turns around furiously, about to scold his sister for barging in again without knocking.
Instead, he finds himself looking at probably the second most important female in his life.
“Yah, Kang Hajoon!”
Hajoon sighs, turning to face his desk once more. “What? What are you doing here?”
He hears footsteps that announce Minji’s presence right behind him. “See, you’re not busy! Hajoon, let’s go! I wanna sing!”
“No, go by yourself!”
Minji latches onto his arm and tugs petulantly. “Hajoon, you can’t go to a noraebang by yourself! Go with me, Hajoon-ah!”
“No, I don’t want to! Ask someone else.”
“Eunbi has tutoring, and Hyunwoo is visiting his grandma this weekend. So there’s only you!”
“Oh, so I’m your last choice?”
“What? You just told me to find someone else.”
“Aish, I don’t wanna!”
“Just come!”
“Yeah, Hajoon, you should just go!”
Hajoon turns towards the third voice who has joined their conversation. His sister beams at him, tugging at the collar of her shirt.
“Noona, what are you doing?” Hajoon growls, glancing at his sister’s outfit. Her business professional attire suggests that contrary to their dinner plans, she has somewhere to go.
“I have a last-minute meeting in Seoul so I need to go soon, and I feel bad for leaving you without food. Just go with Minji, so I don’t feel so bad.”
Hajoon glares at his sister, frustrated with the last-minuteness of everything. “I can cook ramyeon,” he argues.
“My mom’s making daeji galbi,” Minji attempts to persuade. “C’mon, Hajoon-ah, you can finish reading during class tomorrow. You don’t listen to the teacher anyways…”
“What? You read manga in class?” his sister interrupts, surprised. Hajoon tenses up, about to explain his situation when his sister keeps talking. “Wow, and you’re still top ten in your grade? You’re embarrassing me, Hajoon-ah.”
“Right?” Minji eagerly chimes in. “My dad’s always scolding me because Hajoon does too well. Hajoon-ah! Stop doing so well!”
“Well why don’t you work harder, Miss Forty-Sixth?”
“Forty-six? That’s not bad,” his sister reasons.
“Our grade has forty-nine people,” Hajoon adds.
His sister snorts. “Minji-ah, are you really third to last in your grade?” Minji solemnly nods, meanwhile glaring at Hajoon. Hajoon’s sister chuckles. “Wow, you really are different from your oppa.”
Hajoon tenses up a little, but Minji responds evenly. “He was always smarter than me. Even though he went to the noraebang with me all the time.”
A somewhat unsettling silence rests in the room. The corner of Hajoon’s mouth twitches, and he eventually yields to the intimidation of the two females (usually their presences alone make him pull his guard up).
“You’re just singing for four hours?” Hajoon asks.
Minji latches onto his arm again. “You’ll come?”
“Only four hours,” Hajoon stresses. “I really do have homework to do…”
“YAY!” Minji cheers, wrapping her arms around Hajoon to give him a quick hug. Hajoon tenses up again at Minji’s touchiness, but she quickly lets go to hug his sister, giving him a chance to catch his breath. “Be ready in five minutes! I’m gonna grab a snack.”
“Stay away from my Pocky!” Hajoon exclaims as she's on her way out of the room but doubts she hears.
He's about to get ready and change when he notices his sister’s still in the room. Standing in his way to the closet, she's also wearing a strange look.
“What?” Hajoon prompts.
The corner of his sister’s mouth twitches, but ultimately she remains silent. “Nothing. Why don't you pay for Minji this time?”
“Why should I pay when she’s the one dragging me there?” Hajoon complains, scuttling towards his closet and grabbing the first clothes he sees. “Get out. I need to change.”
“Okay, okay,” his sister says, hands raised whimsically in the air. “But you should pay for drinks at least.”
“Noona.”
“Okay, pretend I didn’t say anything. Have a good time, and I’m sorry I have to ditch you again!” She sighs, tugging at her shirt as she exits the room.
Hajoon hesitates for a moment, feeling bad for getting frustrated at his sister for something out of her control. He just doesn’t like last-minute change of plans, or promises being broken. Minji’s holler from outside prompts him to speedily change his clothes, and after quickly running a comb through his hair, he grabs his phone and wallet before heading out.
“Unnie have a good week!” Minji exclaims on her way out, dragging Hajoon along. He barely manages to repeat Minji’s words before they’re heading down the streets to the bus stop.
-
A/N: My understanding of Korean culture is rudimentary at best, so please forgive any mistakes. Also, in case no one was wondering, I’m having serious Reply 1997 withdrawal.
He tries to chronologically go through everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. After receiving a last-minute notification about Chohee’s imminent operation and being assigned to ambush her with Mark, he hasn’t been able to catch a break. Even after the ambush was a failure, he still had to contend with the sudden appearance of Chohee in his bedroom. Of course his guard was up and his suspicions were flaring. So he did the right thing and brought Chohee in.
He’s still kinda surprised that the drug-the-bottled-water trick actually works. They were taught how to use it, so shouldn’t Chohee know about it?
Anyways, he’s been monitoring Chohee from right outside her room for the entire night, sans a brief breakfast run and bathroom trip. He didn’t want to miss the moment she woke up - in case she slips out of their grasp again. This is everything he’s been working for in the past year. Sure, it’s a sorta anticlimactic ending with sleeping pills instead of a vicious fight, but he’ll take his victories either way.
When she speaks with Jaebum, she manages to keep her unflappable cool and Jackson doesn’t know what to think. When he talks to her, he thinks he finally sees her giving up something when she suddenly shuts him out again. He doesn’t know what game she’s playing here, nor does he know what exactly the office of directors is doing when they send Youngjae in. He knows Chohee’s close with him, but Youngjae isn’t trained in anything beyond technical skills required in the operations support room.
Remaining half tuned in to their conversation (which is just Youngjae laughing and rambling now), Jackson flips through Chohee’s file.
Name: Im Chohee
Alias(es): Joy, Yue
Gender: Female
Language(s): Korean, English (fluent), Mandarin (professional proficiency)
Laterality: Left
Agency: The Company
Designation: Agent - Status: Missing/Rogue
Authority: Level 6
Internal Notes:
08202009: Entered company. Profile established.
07172012: Solo debut. Designation changed from Trainee to Agent. Status changed from In-Training to Active.
06112015: Status changed from Active to Missing/Rogue. Authority access suspended.
Cross-reference(s): Im Jaebum (brother), Lee Soobin (ex-partner), Wang Jackson (ex-partner)
There’s nothing useful in her file that he didn’t know - or at least nothing his level of clearance can access. Stashing the file away, he looks back into the room through the two-way mirror, where Chohee’s sharing her story now. It’s incredibly vague and longwinded, focusing more on her feelings than any actual events. It’s actually killing him that she won’t tell why she left - it’s been on his mind for the past year. It’s been his motivation for catching up to her.
Suddenly, the alarms blare and Jackson instinctively jumps to his feet. Peering outside, he sees light orange lights flashing in the hall, which means Hostile Target on Premises. Tuning into his earpiece, he listens to further directions.
“Level 2 hostile subject in lobby, I repeat, level 2 hostile subject in lobby. He appears to be unarmed and...he has identified himself as Henry Lau.”
What in the world is their rival agency doing here, announcing their presence so boldly?
“The situation has been contained. Agent Lau is being escorted to the waiting room. Carry on your duties as usual.”
What in the - they completely skipped over the why and the how! Jackson jumps to his feet, but a hand on his shoulder gives him halt.
“There’s nothing for us to do,” Jaebum says steely, eying him to sit back down. “We’re going to stay here and see what she says.”
Jackson had forgotten Jaebum is also in the room - he’s almost as quiet as a dead man. “What is Henry Lau doing here?”
“I don’t know, and at this moment, I don’t care,” Jaebum says evenly. “Now sit, and tell me what you see.”
Jackson groans. “Hyung, I don’t care about your stupid tests - ”
“What. Do. You. See?” he repeats sternly.
Jackson gulps, sinking back into his seat and looking into the room once more.
“Do you know Henry Lau?” Youngjae asks. Chohee hesitates for a moment and responds with a half-nod. “Well, he’s here in the main lobby, demanding to speak to you.”
“What?” Jackson exclaims, jumping out of his seat. He turns towards Jaebum. “What the hell is going on?”
“Do I look like I know?” Jaebum says sternly, eyes still looking into the room.
“You’re next in line for one of the seats in the office of directors! And you’re telling me you don’t know?”
“Look, Jackson,” Jaebum says, finally looking towards him, “I’m gonna remind you that we know next to nothing about Chohee at this moment. Our priority - and by that, I mean yours - is to find out as much about her as we can. If we can figure out how she knows Henry Lau, then we can maybe figure out why he’s here. So sit your ass down and tell me what you see.”
Jackson stares at Jaebum, slowly sinking back into his seat. “...you’re so brutal even to your own sister.”
“...I swear to god, Jackson, you’re testing my patience and I won’t be responsible for any nonfatal injuries inflicted upon you in the next four hours.”
Jackson shuts up and turns his attention back towards the room. He was just saying it as he saw it, but maybe he’d misinterpreted Jaebum’s demeanor. Despite his attitude being as cold as usual, his voice trembled a little when he made his threat. Maybe this entire thing’s screwing with him just as much as it’s messing with Jackson.
Okay, well, Jaebum gave him a mission. He’s to observe the room and see what he notices.
“...she’s hungry,” Jackson says as the first thing he’s sure of. She’s been swallowing her saliva for the past few minutes and he’s pretty sure he just heard her stomach grumble.
“No duh,” Jaebum says, and then speaking into his earpiece, “get me a breakfast set up here in Interrogation Room 1B.”
“And she’s tired?” Jackson guesses. “She’s not handcuffed to the bed anymore but she’s still sitting.”
“She might still be feeling out of it from the sleeping pill,” Jaebum adds.
“How does he know I’m here?” Chohee asks on the inside.
Youngjae pauses. “I dunno. Should I ask?” Watching Youngjae do Jaebum’s job is like watching a freshman on the first day of class.
“Actually, does he know for sure I’m here?” Chohee asks instead.
“...I can ask?” Youngjae repeats, followed by a loud laugh.
“He’ll laugh anywhere, won’t he?” Jackson says with a chortle. Jaebum grins and shrugs, not denying what Jackson said.
“No, it’s okay. Youngjae, it’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, but I’m not gonna say anymore when there’s at least two people standing right there listening in,” Chohee says, pointing directly at them. “Not to mention our entire conversation’s being recorded,” she says, now pointing at the CCTV camera in the corner of the room. “So I’m sorry, but I’m gonna shut up now.”
“O - oh...” Youngjae stammers awkwardly, eyes darting around confusedly. Jackson mentally counts down in his head: three, two, one...
A loud laugh again. “Alright! I get it! You’re probably tired, huh? I’ll let you go back to sleep and...uh...call me if you need anything!”
How’s she gonna call you when she’s trapped in that room? Jackson thinks.
Their door creaks open. “Breakfast set,” an unfamiliar trainee passes along a metal box before stepping out quickly and quietly.
“Youngjae,” Jaebum says into the earpiece, “get out here for a moment. And try to act natural so Chohee can’t tell you’re speaking to me.”
“...o - oh...” Youngjae stammers before realizing what he just did. Jackson doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. “I mean - ” Youngjae cuts himself off and sighs. Jaebum does the same thing.
“What does he want?” Chohee asks dryly with an amused grin on her face.
Youngjae blinks a few time before - surprise, surprise - laughing out loud. “I’ll...be right back!” he exclaims, jetting out of the room before Chohee can respond.
He comes into the side room with a worried expression on his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing in there,” he complains as Jaebum passes him the breakfast set. “I don’t like this...”
“Nor do we,” Jaebum says. “Now tell her you got this for her and keep her talking. Don’t just tell her to ‘get some rest’ - what good is that to us?”
“B - but she looks tired...”
“She’s fine. Give her the food,” Jaebum insists, shooing Youngjae out of the room. Youngjae sighs and returns back into the room.
“So - hey! I got you some food, in case you were hungry...” he says, unwrapping the boxed set for her. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks, oppa!” Chohee hollers at them as she starts shaking the box to mix up the contents inside. Both Jackson and Jaebum flinch as she grins and digs into the meal.
“So, uh...how’s it taste?” Youngjae asks conversationally.
“Good. Better than the ramen I’ve been having for the past week or so.”
“She doesn’t have money?” Jaebum half-asks, half-deduces.
“Well she likes ramen,” Jackson points out, to which Jaebum concedes.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve had dosirak...” Chohee says. "The cafeteria still serves it? Good to know some things don’t change...”
...dosirak? Jackson stares at the metal box in her hands. He could’ve sworn the cafeteria lady said they ran out when he went down to grab food earlier. Wait a sec...
“Who brought the food?” Jackson asks urgently, turning towards Jaebum.
“Huh?”
“Did you see who gave us the breakfast set?” Jackson repeats.
“Uh...no? I don’t recognize many of the trainees and staff since I don’t work with them anymore...” At this point, Jackson jumps to his feet. “Jackson, what are you doing? Jackson. Jackson!” Jaebum exclaims as Jackson exits the side room and walks straight up to Chohee’s room, flinging the door open.
“Stop!” Jackson exclaims. This gets the attention of Youngjae and Chohee, who both look towards him with confusion.
“What in the - Jackson, what are you doing?” Jaebum hollers as he follows up right behind him.
Jackson points at the metal box in Chohee hands. “That’s not from us. We don’t know where it came from, and it’s possible it might be - ”
The metal box drops to the ground with a clang. Chohee chokes on something and rests a hand on her chest, patting ferociously. She then proceeds to fall forward out of her bed, but not before she mutters what’s on Jackson’s mind.
The length of this wave of inspiration is getting a little embarrassing...I guess me watching YouTube vids of them instead of studying isn’t helping.
This time, I’m not playing by their rules.
“How are you doing?” Jaebum asks cordially, sitting on a stool next to the bed. I wonder if he deserves a smile.
“What’ve you been up to?” he continues, looking at me curiously. For the sake of my dignity, I stare back at him.
“...are you in trouble?” he asks, this time his voice laced with a layer of concern.
And I almost fall for it.
But I remember what happened to me yesterday. It turns out I don’t know someone I thought I do. And I remember this is Jaebum, who’s an expert at emotional manipulation and psychological interrogations. He probably purposely asked his questions in that order so I’d break at this last one.
Not. Gonna. Work. This. Time.
“Where’s Jackson?” I ask, cause I need to cuss out that boy now.
Jaebum smiles, perhaps glad I’ve made some sort of response. In fact, I might’ve given away too much by revealing Jackson’s on my mind. I hope he doesn’t hold this over me. But I had to say something - as usual, silence is my undoing.
“You know how these things go,” Jaebum says, and he proceeds to recite familiar lessons that echo in the back of my mind. “It’s a give and take. When you give me something - ”
“I’ll give you something too,” I say with Jaebum at the same time. “Oppa, you don’t have to talk to me like I’m still thirteen.”
The word ‘oppa’ gets to him. It’s a little hard to tell, but I recognize the telltale sign of his jaw clenching. Mental note noted.
The silence stretches on, and I think he also knows me well enough that he’s using that against me.
“Jackson,” I repeat sternly. “Since when did he start betraying his friends?”
“Jackson didn’t betray anyone,” Jaebum says calmly. “He did the right thing and turned you in for your own and everyone’s safety.”
“Bullshit,” I call out, baring my teeth at him. “Let me speak to him.”
“What’re you gonna give me?”
“I won’t kill you.”
Jaebum lets out a derisive snort. “First of all, I know you wouldn’t kill your chin-oppa. And second, in case you forgot, you’re handcuffed to the bed.”
“Which reminds me, who’s the kinky one in the company?”
This time, Jaebum doesn’t even flinch. “Chohee,” he says, voice low and derisive. He’s scolding me? He lost that privilege a year ago.
“Jackson,” I repeat.
I’m kinda surprised when Jaebum yields. Maybe it’s because sending Jackson in isn’t that big of a deal to them. Maybe it’s because Jaebum’s not making any progress with me. Maybe...just maybe, my presence is affecting Jaebum as much as his is affecting me.
Before he steps out, he turns around to look at me one last time. “Why don’t you come home? Maybe one day when you stop running, you’ll realize there’s no one chasing you.”
I return his gaze with a steely expression. “The moment I stop running, I’ll end up dead.”
Jaebum draws a breath, retort probably on the tip of his tongue, but he changes his mind and steps out of the room wordlessly, shutting the door behind him.
I instantly start looking around for anything that might help me get out of this predicament. But of course, I learned all my tricks from the company, so they’re not gonna leave me any tools to use. I twist my body so I can sit up with my wrist still handcuffed to the bed post. Looking around, I see nothing except bare furniture in the room.
After cursing out everyone and everything (including myself) thoroughly, the door creaks open.
“Wang fucking Jackson,” I intonate deadly.
“Chohee, what’d you expect me to do?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up as he steps into the room, making sure to shut the door behind him. “You basically walked into it yourself - ”
“You drugged me. You betrayed me. You took advantage of my trust. You - you know what?” I laugh dryly. “Forget all that. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I trusted you. I thought I knew you well enough, but turns out memories are worth shit and people always become the very thing they swear they’ll never be.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Jackson repeats. “The whole thing reeked of a trap - I mean, why would you come up to your enemy who’s been hunting you down for the past year? There was no one after you, was there? You were trying to infiltrate my home and take me out, weren’t you?”
A startling realization strikes me: I know why this all happened. Simply put, Jackson and I had different expectations. I thought deep down, people never change. I thought I can trust the people I’d placed my faith in a year ago.
Jackson, on the other hand, thinks I’ve changed. He doesn’t trust me anymore. And now, given the way things are going, he needs me to be this villain he’s painted for himself or he’ll drown in his guilt.
I draw a deep breath and tell myself I can do this. For Jackson. It’s always been for Jackson.
“...what do you know?”
Jackson exhales deeply. I can read him well enough to see the relief flooding his body: eyes slightly widened, posture slightly slouching, body weight comfortably resting on his left foot. “Just tell us everything, Chohee. If you explain to the director, he might be able to excuse some of the things you did given you were...” He gestures wildly with his hands - wait, is he implying I’m crazy?
Well, I decided I’d be who Jackson wants me to be. And that means he’s getting the whole package.
“I’m not gonna say shit.”
“Chohee - ”
“No, Jackson.” I stress his name and look him in the eye. “I’m not playing by your rules anymore. You don’t trust me, so why should I trust you?” I cross my arms and turn away. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Chohee...”
I almost never use the silent treatment, because we all know I’m always the first to give in. But clinging on to the remnants of my pride, I somehow manage to distract myself enough to not feel compelled to speak up.
Jackson uses every trick in the book. He begs me to understand him. He asks what I’d do in his place. He accuses me of being selfish - and that almost tips me over the edge. But my heart’s cold as ice and solid as stone. This time, I’m convinced I’m immovable.
Wang Jackson can go to hell for all I care.
Finally, he gives up. He gives some speech about expectations and ulterior purposes and more selfishness, more drama, more foolishness - but I really can’t care less at this moment. To my surprise, I don’t hate him. I understand him too well to hate him. No, at this point, I just don’t give a shit.
The door opens and shuts. I suppose it’s fair that this time, Jackson’s the one who leaves.
I’m curious what they’re going to do with me. At least I’m safe from the madam and her husband. But the director probably hates my guts at this moment - he doesn’t take betrayals too kindly. But then again, what are they going to do? Use the tricks that they taught me how to defend myself against?
The door opens again, and I’m getting a little tired of all the visitors. Don’t prisoners at least get the right to refuse visitation rights?
I look up and proceed to curse out everyone and everything once more (if you’ve noticed, that’s about the only thing I can do right now). Why the fuck is -
“Im Chohee.”
I really want to slam my head against the wall right now - repeatedly. How can they play this card?
“...ya, Choi Youngjae.”
“...what are you doing?” Youngjae asks with a nervous smile.
Youngjae has minimal experience with anything outside the operations room. So watching him cautiously step around and approach is making me drop my guard real quick.
This is Youngjae, the guy who’s literally saved my life in countless operations in the past. Youngjae, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Youngjae, my peer and maybe my best friend.
Youngjae, who almost left with me a year ago.
“Can you ask someone to loosen this handcuff? It’s chafing pretty badly,” I complain, tugging at the handcuff.
“Huh? Oh! Yeah, I think I can do that,” Youngjae says, jumping to his feet. His hands reach for his pockets, and I wonder if he’s pulling out a com device of some sort. My eyes widen when he actually produces a ring of keys from his pocket? “Uh, I think it was this...”
I stare at Youngjae walking up to me with absolutely no fear, wiggling key after key in the keyhole and finally unlocking the handcuff for me. I’m on high alert, but even I can’t tell where the company’s going with this now. Cautiously rubbing my wrist, I look towards Youngjae.
“You okay? Do you need water?” Youngjae asks.
“...I’m fine,” I say.
“Um...” His eyes dart around, particularly to the mirror on the far wall. Of course, it’s a two-way mirror. I grab a hand and rest it on his shoulder. He turns around with surprise written on his face.
“Hey. Let’s pretend we’re not in this moment: not here, not now.” I draw a breath and smile. “How are you, Youngjae?”
Youngjae beams, easily getting comfortable on the stool. “I’m good! It’s been...hahaha, it’s been a year, hasn’t it? I guess a lot’s happened! Let me catch you up!”
Youngjae talks enough for the two of us. That’s why I enjoy hanging out with him: when he isn’t speaking, his laugh fills up the silence. And he tells me the things I want to know: the things that matter. That he got promoted to head operator on level 4 missions. Jisoo debuted as leader of her group. Fei-unnie cried when she finally got to see her parents for the first time in five years. One of the newly debuted girls called Yugyeom 'oppa’ for weeks before someone pointed out she’s older than him. I smile fondly at this family I’ve left behind and am so sorely tempted to come back.
“That’s about it for us! What about you? What’ve you been up to, Chohee?”
Youngjae asks the same question as Jaebum, but it’s devoid of any sense of trickery - it’s genuine concern and curiosity. So - for the last time, I tell myself - I indulge in my feelings once more, sharing my happiest and hardest times.
Youngjae nods and laughs at all the right parts, being the perfect supportive listener. They sure as hell aren’t getting anything important out of me, but I owe it to Youngjae.
My story isn’t anything glamorous. Being on the run from not just a bunch of intelligence agencies but also the most powerful people in this nation, you're forced to use some pretty desperate moves. I’m not particularly proud of the people I’ve hurt and the lives I’m ruined in this year. I try not to think about it, but sometimes, at times like this, the repressed feelings all come out. All the guilt, my selfishness, my regrets, my missed second chances...there’s so much I want to take back. I’m much stronger now, but in some ways, I have more vulnerabilities too. I don’t know whether the last year has changed me for the better or worse - I can only say for sure that I’ve changed.
Through it all, Youngjae patiently listens. He doesn’t try to give advice like Jaebum is prone to do as my oppa. He doesn’t interrupt with his own opinions like Jackson does. Youngjae lets me tell my story, and I don’t even realize till now that that’s all I’ve ever wanted someone for.
I finish my incredibly vague tale and look towards Youngjae, awaiting his judgment. I want to know if he also sees the monster I sometimes see when I look in the mirror. I want to know if I’ve scared him yet. I think on some level, I want him to stop trusting me like I’ve come to stop trusting others.
But Youngjae smiles and it’s like the sun is sitting right next to me.
He opens his mouth to speak but a blaring alarm goes off in the halls. I listen to the pitch and count the frequency of shrills, recognizing it as a Code Orange: Hostile Suspect On the Loose. I can’t tell if it’s an invasion or an escape, but Youngjae jumps to his feet out of fear, a hand resting on his chest.
“What is it?” I ask, figuring Youngjae will tell me.
He tunes into the com piece in his ear, eyes focused on the ground. After awhile, he lifts his head and looks at me.
“Do you know Henry Lau?”
I wince, sorta nodding. I guess you could say that.
“Well he’s here, in the main lobby. Demanding to speak to you.”
I’ll admit, I took quite a risky gamble choosing to turn towards the one man on Earth whose sole purpose is to catch me. My prospects are pretty bleak at this point. But I like to think that I know Jackson, and some things don’t change. The Jackson I remember values loyalty more than duty.
Let’s just say I hope this gamble pays off.
I think my offer’s pretty generous. But just to make sure I bring it all home, I toss in the game-changing deal.
“Plus, I’ll tell you why I left.”
I might be taking advantage of what I know about him, but he agrees soon enough. At this point, that piece of information is more about my pride than practicality or anything. I don’t mind telling him.
Like I predicted, he agrees soon enough. But like the petty boy he is, he’s got a whole list of stipulations.
“We tell Mark,” he says with such finality that I don’t even have the chance to argue before he moves on to his next point. “You stay in my room, with the door closed, at all times.”
“What if I need to use the bathroom?”
“…fine, optional two-minute bathroom break every other hour.”
“Jackson, I’m on my period. And what if I’m thirsty and want a glass of water?”
“…okay, fine just stay in the house.”
“What if I get hungry? There’s like nothing in your fridge, Jackson - I checked.”
“Get delivery.”
“I don’t wanna eat fried chicken all day! Do you know how bad that is for your blood vessels?”
“I do!” Jackson exclaims. “But you’re on house arrest!” My pout remains, and it sways Jackson a little. “I’ll bring you something when I come back.”
“Yay! Anything else?” I prompt, hoping that’s it.
Of course not. This is Jackson we’re talking about.
“Don’t touch anything of mine. Don’t play music too loud, cause the walls are thin and the neighbors might hear. And never answer the door, even if it’s the chicken deliveryman. Tell him to leave it at the door. Keep the blinds drawn and - ”
“So basically act like I’m under witness protection,” I summarize succinctly.
Jackson pauses for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah…basically. Oh. Give me back my phone, and gimme yours.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you plotting anything with your friends while you’re on my turf,” Jackson says with narrowed eyes.
“You’re just being accusatory now.”
“I wouldn’t put it past anyone in your position.”
Considering things, Jackson probably has every right to do as he pleases with me. He’s letting a hostile enemy stay in his home, so of course his guard’s gonna be way up. Even if it’s just…me.
I wonder what I mean to him now…if I mean anything at all.
Yeah, I think now’s a good time to start thinking about my backup plan if he does imprison me in his house till Jinyoung comes. Or, god forbid, he drags Jaebum himself down to capture lil ole me.
Okay, now the regret’s starting to sink in. But it’s too late for anything else, and I really can’t think of any better options at this point. The madam’s husband has got people everywhere except the company. So all I can do is cross my fingers and hope for the best.
Plus, this is Jackson. Everything from our conversation up till now pointed to the fact that he hasn’t changed. He’s still the same honest, upright guy who holds up his end of deals. I trust Jackson, and I don’t trust many people - consider it an occupational hazard.
“Okay, I’m dead exhausted,” Jackson says, turning around. “I’m gonna wash up and crash outside. You can sleep here.”
“Nope, not happening,” I say, leaping out of his bed and reaching the door before him. My hand rests on the doorknob a second before him, his larger hand easily enveloping mine. I look up and hold his gaze for a moment.
It’s funny how things like memories and feelings like deja vu can fuck with your mind so bad even years later.
I look down at our hands and draw a deep breath. After relishing the feeling of his warm hand over mine for just a few more seconds, I force myself to pull away. “So, I’ll just - ”
To my surprise, his hold tightens and I’m unable to escape.
My eyes tentatively meets his again - and as always, Jackson’s gaze is my undoing. Sometimes, when I look into his wide eyes, I find myself drowning in sincerity and innocence - ironic, considering his profession - and consequently my own guilt and self-loathing.
My breath catches in my throat. I wait for what he has to say, but when he remains quiet, I decide to break the silence.
“Thanks for your hospitality, but I’m gonna - ”
“Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual.
“I shouldn’t thank you?”
I fix my stare on Jackson. When he still doesn’t speak, I feel compelled to say and act this time.
I jerk my hand quick enough to escape his grasp. “You must be dead tired. You almost fell asleep standing there,” I say with a chuckle. He’s still frozen still while I open the door and shove him aside. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I guess you should tell Mark so he doesn’t freak out when he comes back.”
“He’s not coming back tonight.”
“O - oh…” That’s a good thing - one less variable to consider. Then why did my sense of security just drop? “Well…I’m ready to sleep. I’ll be borrowing this,” I say, raising the Squirtle doll in my hands. “And…I’m thirsty. Do you have any bottled water?”
For a moment, I expect him to say something unpredicted. Something that’ll redefine the rules of everything - for me, for us, for him. But he then sighs, and I know we’re back to square one. Not that I mind, since we’ve been there for years already.
“There should be at least one in the fridge.”
“Thanks!” I chirp, exiting the room and shutting the door.
He doesn’t come after me.
I dash to the kitchen and throw open the door, quickly locating a bottle resting at eye level. Twisting open the cap, I down almost half of the entire thing at once. I’m probably gonna need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but that’s okay. After that, I jump onto the couch and immediately assume a fetal position, getting ready to crash. But when your heart’s racing faster than a hamster running on a wheel, it’s hard to fall asleep. My mind’s thinking too fast for me to draw any conclusions, so I let my imagination and rational run wild debating with each other about what just transpired.
After what may have been ten seconds or ten minutes - I really can’t tell you at this point - I hear Jackson’s door creak open. His sound, steady footsteps pace halfway across the room to the bathroom, and I then hear water hitting the side of a plastic bathtub. To be honest, I’m a little tempted, but my back’s towards him so it’s impossible to look in his direction without being too obvious. I pass time counting sheep with the steady sound of water running as lulling background music.
My mind vaguely registers when the water stops, but I’m about to doze off any moment. Wow, usually it takes me longer to fall asleep. I guess the day’s activity and the relief of finding safe shelter for the night is finally catching up with me.
I’m already starting to lose consciousness when Jackson steps out of the shower. By now, I’m too tired to keep track of his footsteps. But my nose is inundated with a fresh coconut scent, and the sound of steady breaths suggests Jackson is standing right in front of me.
I’d think more about it if I were more alert, but I’m about to knock out any moment.
I get comfortable with his hand resting on my head, patting my hair. When’s the last time I’ve been able to fall asleep with someone next to me? Trusted companionship really is hard to come by these days.
Around now, I’m half asleep. So I might be dreaming when I hear Jackson say, “I’m sorry.”
-
Come morning, I think maybe Jackson’s words weren’t part of a dream.
“…goddammit, Jackson,” I mumble the moment I wake up. Grogginess and fatigue are atypical for the morning person I’ve become. In fact, I recognize these symptoms as part of sleeping pill hangover. So that means he drugged me.
“Fuck you, Jackson.”
There, that seems more appropriate.
I wake up to familiar ceiling, familiar bed sheets, familiar white walls. Before I can get up, I realize my left hand’s cuffed to the bed pole.And all I can do is…laugh aloud.
Thinking about my thoughts and actions yesterday…ha, when did I become so soft? How could I have let my guard down and trust Jackson just cause we have history? I have a history with a bunch of people who wouldn’t think twice to give me up to the highest bidder. How’s Jackson any different from them?
How could I give in to something as fleeting and fickle as feelings?
I really am an idiot. I basically gave myself up to the very people I’ve been running from for the past year.
Better them than him, my optimism offers meekly, but it’s quickly shut down by my ethos and pathos.
Namely, rationale and rage.
How could you have trusted him? How can you trust anyone?
You need to break out of here ASAP before you-know-who comes to check on -
The metal door opens from the outside, and someone steps in.
Too late.
I sigh, sitting up just enough to catch a glimpse of the intruder. I had expected Jackson or Mark, maybe even Jinyoung. The former two are easy to deal with, the latter a little trickier but nothing I can’t handle with a few misdirects and leading questions. I literally choke on my breath when I realize who they decided to send.
Those bastards.
“Hello, Chohee,” Im Jaebum says with a cordial smile he has no business wearing.
They’re probably watching.
"It’s been awhile,” he adds, approaching slowly.
…fuck you, Jackson. Fuck you, this goddamn company. Fuck everyone.
“Hello…oppa,” I say slowly, almost regretting the words the moment they leave my tongue.
Gonna ride out this wave of inspiration for as long as possible
“You can sit down, but toss me your phone and don’t trip the alarm that’s on the bottom of that desk.”
Jackson mentally curses out Chohee for knowing the company’s protocol so well. It makes sense, after all, since she was once one of their best.
Very cautiously while keeping his eyes on her, Jackson approaches the chair tucked under the desk. He still has the chance to trip her up, so instead of sitting on the chair, he rests his bottom on the end of the bed instead.
She masks her surprise well - he wouldn’t have caught it if the company hadn’t trained them just as well.
“What are you doing here?” Jackson repeats lowly, still trying to figure out a way to alert the company that Chohee is in his house.
Chohee sighs, stretching the tendons of her neck. “Look. I’m sorta in trouble, and I was hoping you could help me out till everything tides over?”
What she actually expect him to do that?
“You’re wanted by many public and private agencies, including ours. Why would I help you hide? Hell, you’re probably just painting a target on my back right now. Get out.”
“Sheesh, you wanted to meet sooner so I came,” Chohee says. “You don’t like being caught off guard, do you?”
“No!” Jackson exclaims. It then falls silent, and he realizes how emotional he’s acting. Perhaps he’s giving away a little too much right now. He should try to emulate Chohee’s almost unflappable expression. He settles down, rests his hands on his lap, and maintains a poker face.
“Did Jinyoung chew your ass out for not capturing me or something?” Chohee asks almost concernedly. “It’s his fault for only sending you and Mark.”
It’s weird hearing her sound like she actually cares about him or something. “You’re my responsibility,” he says steely.
“I know. But I don’t think it’s really urgent for them. If they were actually serious, at least they’d send someone from 2PM.”
“Hey, what does that mean?” Jackson exclaims, jumping to his feet. The smile on Chohee’s face reminds him he’s showing too much emotion, so with a cleared throat, he settles back down in his seat.
“I’d be doing better if I caught you,” Jackson returns.
To that, Chohee falls silent.
Jackson isn’t quite sure what they’re doing right now. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d say...they’re actually having a civil conversation? About her capture, of course, but civilly. Y’know, like two friends conversing over coffee?
Okay, he’s dead exhausted, he tried killing her just moments ago, and she had a gun pointed at him earlier. That’s his excuse for everything and anything.
“How’s your leader doing?” Chohee asks conversationally.
Jackson has no idea where they’re going with this, but he’s just gonna swim with it, remember everything, and report to Jinyoung later word by word. “You mean Jaebum? He’s super busy training with the Office of Directors. I haven’t seen him in weeks. Speaking of which, I should grab lunch with him soon...”
“Does he go on missions still?”
“Nah, he’s doing managerial work now. Wonder why he’s so interested in that stuff.” Jackson snorts. “He’s the best we’ve got.”
“I was the best you had.”
“Eh, debatable,” Jackson says. “His shooting’s more precise.”
“I’m faster on stealth missions.”
“He can bench press more than you.”
“I always win in hand-to-hand.”
“Except against me,” Jackson says with a smirk, to which Chohee can only narrow her eyes and scoff at.
“I told you, I had to down like twenty shots for that stupid undercover mission and you challenged me at three a.m. in the morning!”
“The rule is to never let your guard down.”
“Well, wanna go at it now?” Chohee offers.
Jackson stares at her, looking quite juvenile in her cotton shirt and plaid pajama pants with his Squirtle still on her lap. “I don’t wanna take advantage of you after a long day.”
“Oh trust me, you’ve never actually taken advantage of me. I’ve just let you.”
The glint in her eyes is sorta familiar, sorta foreign. Jackson suddenly realizes how easily they’ve reverted to their relationship a year ago, before she went rogue on the company and started doing her own thing. It’s a dangerous path to go down: he might be able to dig out some information from her, but he doesn’t know if he’ll dish out things as well.
Maybe Chohee realizes something along those lines at the same time, because she suddenly draws back and rests her body against the headboard of his bed. “So tell me. How’s the rest of Got7?”
“...are you fishing for information?” Jackson asks with startlingly clarity. Shit, had he just given away that JB was Internal Affairs Deputy Director to a level 3 hostile subject?
“C’mon, Jackson. You guys are my favorite hoobae, y’know?”
“...I’m older than you.”
“I debuted before you guys.”
“...fine.”
“Plus, I already know you and Mark are the only active members of Got7 now. Jaebum’s doing official leader-ish things, Jinyoung’s like the face of the company, Youngjae’s always been operations support, Yugyeom’s the mastermind behind most of strategic programs now, and Bambam...he keeps swapping departments, it’s like no one really wants him. Last I checked, he’s doing stuff with the trainees.”
Jackson’s a little surprised she keeps tabs on all of them in the company, but reconnaissance was just one of her specialties as a top agent of the company. “What else do you wanna know then?”
“I wanna know how they’re doing, as people. I miss you guys, y’know?”
Jackson feels something in his heart throb when Chohee makes that confession. “Then why’d you leave?” slips off his tongue before he can stop himself.
Chohee hesitates, holding his stare while exhaling deeply. “I didn’t want to leave, Jackson,” she says, “believe me. You know I grew up with the agency - I was there before you. You guys are like my brothers and sisters. How’s - ” Chohee, the infallible Chohee, stumbles over her words in a way Jackson knows can’t be feigned. “How’s Jisoo?”
“...she debuted.”
“I know, I know. Finally, she deserves it. But how is she?”
Jackson stares at her, knowing what she’s asking but unsure if she actually wants her answer. “She misses you.”
“...goddammit, Jackson.”
“What? You asked!”
“...I did. I did, sorry. I just - it’s so hard. I wanna know, but it just makes me sadder when I do. You know?”
“I don’t. Chohee...what are you doing here?”
“I suppose we should get back to that topic before we go too far down memory lane...” she trails off, squishing Squirtle affectionately. “Look, I was serious when I said I’m in trouble. And not just your standard ‘the company and other agencies are after me’ trouble. Someone...someone real is after me. And he doesn’t just want me...he wants me dead.”
“...oh.”
“So please, Jackson. I need your help. Just twenty-four hours. You don’t even have to do anything, just let me stay here for that long. Then I’ll be out of your hair, I swear.”
Jackson narrows his eyes at the sight of Chohee begging for something. It isn’t a sight he sees often, nor is it a sight he particularly wants to see.
“What do I get in return?” he asks.
Chohee levels a stern look. “Since when did you become so opportunistic?”
“Since you only thought about yourself when you made the decision to leave.”
“I never only think about myself,” Chohee hisses, rising to her feet and glaring down at him. “I didn’t want to leave. I left...partially for myself, and partially for everyone else.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
“...what do I get out of this deal?” Jackson said, returning to the original topic.
Chohee sighs, taking a moment to contemplate his words. “Believe it or not, I left for a reason. I have something I need to do. After that...I’m all yours.”
“Huh?”
“Once I’m done with everything...I’ll let you take me back to the company. That’s my promise.”
Restarting this cause why not? This blog is for me, myself, and I anyways. I’mma do as I please.
And I have way too many 2-page Google docs containing the beginnings of an idea just forming in my mind...
Warning: my most recent obsession involves k-pop and one particular 7-membered boy group...whatever it takes to crank out those words, amirite?
“You’re not who you said you were.”
“In this line of work, when are we ever who we say we are?”
-
I steady my raised hand, keeping my index finger hovering over the trigger. It’s been a good minute, and I won’t deny that my arm’s starting to go numb. But we’re caught in a stalemate, and I’m not the one with the ability to walk away.
Whoever’s at the other end of this damn red laser pointer light is seriously doing a much better job than me.
“Call him off,” I snarl, but my hostage has no interest in cooperating.
“He doesn’t listen to me. He takes orders directly from the Director. You know that,” he says with a knowing grin.
Oh, you don’t know how much I want to wipe that smirk off his face. How’s he still so casual and nonchalant when I’m pointing a gun at him?
“I swear to god, I will shoot,” I say, readjusting my stance because I can’t have my legs giving way. I take the chance to wiggle my shoulders too. Seriously, I’m gonna need a hot bath or something later tonight.
“Your butter fingers are gonna drop the weapon before you pull the trigger. Or Mark’s gonna beat you to it. Either way, you’re trapped.”
“Shut up, Jackson.”
“Don’t get mad at me just cause you didn’t plan out your escape route.”
“You guys weren’t part of the plan.”
“When are we ever? I mean, it’s not like the company announces, ‘hey, we’re gonna drop by the museum and put a stop to your acts of grand larceny around town, Chohee. Is that even your real name, Chohee?”
“That’s what you’ve got down for me on your file?” I ask with an amused grin.
“I’ll take that as a no...but it’s nice having a name to attach to a pretty face.”
“Shut up, Wang Jackson.”
“Seriously, haven’t you learned by now? I’m not gonna stop talking just cause you told me to. Frankly, I don’t consider you much of a threat.”
“I have a gun,” I remind him with a raised brow.
“...and I have Mark. So we’re even. Actually, I might even have the upper hand, cause I got this.”
What the -
“Wang Jackson, how the hell did you get that?” I shriek, glaring at the diamond that fit so snugly in his gloved hand. That was the last piece I was supposed to snag tonight, but one unaccounted for agent got in the middle of it all. Plus, that one’s security was a little harder to crack than the others.
“I think what you actually wanted to say was: Jackson, teach me your ways, I want to be just as skilled as you!”
“Shut up - no, ah - screw this.”
“What exactly are you screwing? I’m just curious.”
I carefully contemplate the situation once more. Mark’s unwavering aim at me isn’t gonna stop anytime soon, though I’m doubtful he’ll actually shoot. The company has more value of me alive than dead. Jackson’s still holding the last piece of my puzzle, and I’m gonna need to snag that before reporting back to my boss. What to do, what to do...
My eyes glance around our surroundings. I suppose one of the reasons Mark doesn’t aim for a nonfatal shot is cause of the wind picking up outside. Well, that’s what you get for setting up shop in the building across. Jackson, on the other hand, seems to be listening to whatever HQ is telling him through his earpiece. Which means he’s slightly distracted, just enough for me to -
“...what the - ?”
“Give it to me, Jackson!”
Taking advantage of a gust of wind that blows up a pile of leaves and momentarily obscures Mark’s vision, I leap towards Jackson and try to pry the diamond out of his hands. Though I have the weapon, Jackson has his hand-to-hand combat skills. Which are pretty advanced, if I must say. And of course, the utility of a gun goes down tenfold when you’re standing right in front of your target.
“You know you’re never gonna get this from me, Chohee,” Jackson sneers, keeping the diamond well-protected behind his back. “You’re just gonna have to kill me.”
“...you know I won’t do that.”
“I do. And I’m really curious - whoa! - why? Exactly why won’t you shoot, Chohee?”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss as my leg aims for his knees in a sweeping motion. As expected, he jumps to dodge the attack, but that leaves him defenseless in midair. One simple shove and he’s on his back on the ground.
He groans, but I slam my arm down on his chest before he can get up. Taking advantage of his helpless state, I lift the diamond from his loosened fingers. Tucking it into my fanny pack (I swear, they’re like the most practical thing ever), I put my entire weight on him to keep him down. Jackson’s a pretty strong guy.
“...you cheater,” he croaks.
“What’d I do?” I simper with a grin. “You let your guard down.”
“You got me curious.”
“About?”
“Your name. Why can’t I call you Chohee? Unless it’s not your name...or maybe it is, and you don’t want me calling you that?”
Only Wang Jackson can make small talk with a possibly hostile enemy while pinned to the floor.
“I’ve gotta say, I’m mildly impressed that you guys managed to figure out my next target and set up an ambush,” I say. “Except I guess they thought too highly of you and assumed you’d be enough?”
“Or they thought too lowly of you,” Jackson suggests.
Somehow, this boy never fails to bring a smile to my face. It’s part vexing, part perplexing, part cute.
In unequal parts, of course.
“I’ve got a job to finish, so I’ll see you later,” I say, reaching into my fanny pack (see, practical!) for my stun gun. Just before I knock him out, he does get the final word in.
“Maybe sooner than later?” he says with a hopeful grin. I decide to smile back, so at least that’s the final image he has before blacking out.
-
“I thought you were in it for someone else, just like me...but it’s always been about yourself, hasn’t it?”
“...I’m not a bad person just cause I look out for myself. Who else will?”
“I would.”
-
I walk through the dead night, coming up to a large office building. I get a little sad thinking about the last time I’ve done something under the actual sun. Then again, with a profession like mine, the dark is absolutely essential for me getting my job done.
I scale the gate and land successfully with goods in hand (or fanny pack specifically). This is it, I tell myself. This job’ll get me set for at least five whole years. The deal’s still a little too good to be true, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Drawing a deep breath, I head towards the entrance, where the leftmost door is unlocked.
I walk almost soundlessly across the marble floor and straight to the elevator. The drop’s happening at my floor of choice, since apparently the client owns the entire building. I hesitate for a moment and choose the floor seven, pressing the button and leaning on the back wall.
The whirring of the elevator assuages me a little, since silence makes me uneasy. I’ve always disliked quietness, because to me, it feels like the calm before the storm. It puts me on my guard in a heightened state of alertness that’s more tiring than useful. Maybe that’s why I've developed the tendency to speak to myself at times. Maybe that’s why when Wang Jackson talks to me, I talk back. It’s really an irrational tendency I should get rid of before it gets me into real trouble.
A soft ding announces my arrival at my destination. I step off, looking around the seventh floor curiously. It’s just a floor of office cubicles, neither particularly standing out from the next. I choose one by random and set the goods, tucked in a bag, down on the ground beside the desktop mainframe. There, job accomplished. Now all that’s left is to contact boss and let him know to drop the cash at our usual spot -
“Hello, Miss Chohee.”
Of course things are never easy. I freeze at the feeling of cold metal resting on the back of my head. My hands tense up before I hesitantly raise them in the air, signalling my surrender. Who the hell sold me out, and why? What the hell do these people want from me - ?
- oh shitdamnfuck.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaim now that I’ve turned around and gotten a good look at the assailant. With his gun pointing at me and my fanny pack just out of reach, I can only hope that my glares are causing some sort of damage to his dignity, or something.
“I’m just a servant to what the madam asks me to do,” Henry says with that smarmy grin of his. Have I mentioned yet that I want to slap him silly?
“You know, given the number of times you’ve mentioned ‘the madam’ with such high praise, I sure hope she plans to make a flashy entrance to reach all my expectations.”
“...would this suffice?”
Her sharp voice pierces through the nighttime silence, and the hairs on my arm stick up in response. Very slowly, I turn around with my hands still raised in the air. And of course, standing before me with the perfect powdered face, high bun, and mid-length dress is none other than ‘the madam’ herself. This is my first time actually seeing her in years, so I’m sort of at a loss.
My manners pull themselves together though. “How are you, Madam?” I ask with a slight curtsey. That is, I do what I can with my hands awkwardly in midair.
“Fine,” she responds curtly without asking in kind. Rudeeeee! “You’ve been a hard girl to find, Chohee.” I narrow my eyes at the way she stresses my ‘name’ and wonder what she’s implying.
“No offense, but I wasn’t particularly keen on you finding me,” I return calmly. The most important thing, I remind myself, is to pretend like you have the situation under control. Force the feeling, and maybe you’ll actually begin feeling that way.
“I’d be lying if I said none taken,” the madam says with a saccharine smile. “Do you remember what we promised last time we met?”
“How could I forget?” I say, trying to use my peripheral vision to find ways to help me escape from this dilemma. “After all, you promised to kill me.”
“Now that’s so vulgar,” the madam says. “All I promised was the end of your life.”
“Which is basically killing me.”
“...oh dear. I do think you misunderstood me last time we spoke.” The madam looks about as concerned as a coldhearted woman like her can. “I believe my exact words were, ‘it will be the end of life as you knew it.’”
“Which means you’re gonna kill me,” I say for the nth time in the past minute.
The madam throws her head back and laughs. Her chuckles echo in the quietness of this vast floor, and she takes her time catching her breath to regain herself.
“Oh dear, I do hope you haven’t been running around for the past few years with that misconception in the back of your mind!” she exclaims. “How tiring that must’ve been!”
I’m more than a little confused by her words now, but I try to not let it show. “When’s life not tiring?”
“When you’re not being chased after by the most powerful woman in the universe?” Henry offers lightly.
“Shut it, Henry,” I hiss, to which he snorts and readjusts the position of his gun on my head. Oh, that’s right, I forgot he’s holding the weapon this time.
“Chohee, I’m not going to kill you. No, you have far more use alive than dead,” the madam says. “I will need you, but I will need you clean of your muddy past and questionable actions you’ve undertaken. In truth, I just need your name, dear.”
Suddenly, I realize what this is about. “I’m never gonna let you do that,” I say.
“Oh really? I thought you’d say something like that. Which is why I’ve been looking for a motive for you. See, did I have to do something like that? No! I’m such a benevolent person.”
“Please, you’re selling yourself short,” I say dryly.
“But I promise, this bit is all worth it,” she says with a smug smile. “You see, dear, in the past few years, I’ve stumbled across the whereabouts of your dear mother.”
My eyes widen and fists clench in response. “Stop lying,” I hiss. “My mother’s dead.”
“You just like being contrary, don’t you? We all know your mother’s whereabouts were unknown after the bombing, which means her status is MIA as opposed to - ”
“No, she’s dead. Stop lying to me,” I hiss, my actions a little jerky with all my rage.
“Stop it,” Henry hisses, resting a hand on one shoulder and pressing the gun harder onto my head. That doesn’t even phase me as a finger twitches expectantly.
“No, it’s okay, Henry, you can set the gun down. She’ll want to finish this conversation with me,” the madam says. I hate to admit she’s right, but like she says, I stay in place when Henry takes a step back from me.
“Alright. Where was I? Ah, yes - your mother. I can bring you to her after you do me a favor.”
“...stop saying that,” I hiss. “I’m never gonna do you any shit favor.”
I’m quite worked up at this point, ready to leap into action, but my eyes catch a glint coming from the window by my side. I’m usually not that good at spotting snipers, but let’s just say since they started sending Jackson after me, I’ve come to assume Mark’s always just a few feet away as support. So my ability to pinpoint snipers has greatly increased in the past few months.
I barely duck in time to dodge the shot that wedges into the metal cabinet behind me. “What the hell?” I roar as I leap towards my exit: the staircase. I catch the madam groaning, but she’s really not high on my list of priorities now. “You said you wouldn’t kill me!” I holler as I pass by her.
“I did, but my husband has his own ideas,” she almost laments. “I’m sorry, Chohee, I tried to protect you, but he’s getting a little fed up with this going-rogue stunt you’re pulling. You know he’s always had a short temper.”
I throw open the door of the staircase, but the echoes of footsteps makes me change my mind. I turn back around to see Henry helping the madam towards the side. I don’t wanna go back the same way I came up, and with the staircase out, I’m running out of escape routes. This was just supposed to be a drop location, so I didn’t scope out the place as well as I should have. Ah, my bad habits are finally starting to get to me.
I grab a tape ruler conveniently lying around and dash towards my very last option. It’s harder for the sniper to aim with Henry and the madam on the move, so I take advantage of his pause to head towards the window. I hurl the tape ruler through the glass pane on the right side and open the leftmost window to slip through silently.
Don’t worry, I didn’t forget we’re on the seventh floor. While falling towards the ground, I dig out my inflatable baggy from - you guessed it! - my fanny pack and pull the string, letting it grow to full size. I land relatively smoothly, if you disregard the pain in my hips and the suspicious popping sound I heard from around my calf. Wobbling on a weaker left foot, I make my way to the backup car I’d stashed in the parking lot and hop in, stepping on the gas to drive full speed.
If he’s coming after me, I might not make it till the next sun sets. He’s nothing but prepared, so I can’t fall back on my usual safe houses. Preferably nearby, before he has some of his best guys tailing me.
I look around the area I’m driving into, suddenly recalling who lives around here. It’s a risk, but it’s not like I have any better options at this moment. So I head towards the very last person he’d think I’d crash with.
-
"It’s not you. Really. It’s just...me.”
“Don’t use that bullshit on me. If you’re gonna do this, man - or, woman up and say it straight to my face.”
-
“Alright, Jackson, you know the drill.” External Affairs Director Park Jinyoung turns on the recorder and places it on the desk between them. “Tell us what happened.”
Jackson sighs, readjusting the cap on his head. “Look, Jinyoung, I always make small talk with her. I don’t know why she sometimes talks back, and I don’t know if that means anything. Hell, maybe she likes me or something.” Jinyoung gives a pointed look, and Jackson huffs. “Anyways, is there really a point in me reciting everything we talked about? It’s literally usually just the weather or something. Maybe a little flirting if I’m feeling up for it. I just wanna go home, man.”
“Just tell us what you guys talked about,” Jinyoung repeats, to which Jackson yields and lists off their conversation topics once more.
“...she was impressed that we had figured out her next job, and she said you guys must’ve had high expectations of me to send me in alone, and she has to finish her job so I’ll see her later.”
“See her later?” Jinyoung repeats.
Jackson gives that statement some second thought. Maybe there is something into it. “Maybe she thinks we’ll intercept her next job as well?”
“Or maybe she plans to meet us somewhere,” Jinyoung says, shutting the recorder off. “Good job, Jackson. Go get some rest.”
“You’re starting to sound like the head director. Don’t lose your mama hen tendencies, okay Jinyoung? Who else is gonna passive aggressively tell me to stop eating so many cookies or I’ll have too much extra weight to carry?”
Jinyoung laughs. “Good night, Jackson.”
“You too, sir,” Jackson says as he stands up and walks out of the debriefing room. He stretches his arms and legs, which is much needed after spending a good hour in that stiff stool. Seriously, if they can afford all the other high-tech equipment in this place, can’t they buy a nice chair with cushions or something?
“You heading back?” Mark’s voice comes from around the corner just as Jackson rounds it.
“You scared me!” Jackson exclaims, taking a step back. “When’d you get out?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“That’s not fair! Why’s my debriefing take twice as long?”
Mark shrugs. “Maybe cause I didn’t have any actual contact with the subject?”
“True, true.” Jackson groans, heading for the exit of the building. At two a.m. in the morning, this side of the city’s mostly dead quiet. The company shuttle is parked at its stop, engine started and ready to run its route. “I just wanna sleep.”
“I’m gonna stay a bit longer.”
“Huh?” Jackson says questioningly, turning towards his partner. “It’s two in the morning. What could you possibly have to do now that can’t wait till tomorrow? You know we still have to clock in at nine a.m. sharp or Jinyoung’s gonna dock our pay again.”
Mark glances from side to side, though Jackson’s not sure what he’s looking at. “I need to talk to someone. I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight.”
Mark’s acting mighty mysterious, but he’s always been a secretive guy and Jackson’s come to accept that. He trusts Mark with his life, literally, and Mark always gets around to telling him the important things after the fact. “Fine, man. I’m not staying up for you.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“I’m feeling the love!”
“Same here.”
With a harrumph, Jackson stalks off towards the shuttle before it takes off without him. He flashes a grin at the familiar driver and seats himself near the front so they can chat on the way to his place. The company set up him and Mark in a nearby apartment complex where people keep to themselves and don’t ask too many questions. It’s quiet at nights, almost unusually so, though Jackson suspects he and Mark aren’t the only company workers living in their building.
The drive is almost too short - he and the driver are in the middle of debating whether orange or lime green socks are least common - when the shuttle pulls up to his stop. With a promise to see him in less than six hours, Jackson bids the driver farewell and walks up to his apartment building. After checking his mail, he unlocks the main door with his card and takes the elevator up to the seventh floor. He finally manages to get his key into the keyhole and unlocks the door, stumbling his way in ready to knock out on his bed.
In hindsight, he’ll blame his sleepiness on why he didn’t Mark’s house slippers missing from the entrance.
He heads straight for his bedroom, yawning and rubbing an eye while his free hand fiddles with the light switch. When he finally manages to flip his lights on, the sight before him shocks his awake and frozen.
“Hi Jackson,” Chohee says, sitting cross-legged on his bed with his Squirtle plushie on her lap. “You asked for sooner than later...so here I am.”
“...what the fuck are you doing here?” Jackson demands, every cell in his body debating between fight or flight.
“I think it’s about time we actually talked, don’t you think?” Chohee says, friendly enough with her eyes smiling.
-
“Maybe one day when you stop running, you’ll realize there’s no one chasing you.”
“The moment I stop running, I’ll end up dead.”
- tbc?
A/N: I make no promises. I can set up the plot and foreshadow every other sentence, but that doesn’t mean I will/can continue this. Seriously, my inspiration just comes and goes. And if you must know, I have commitment issues.
Campus gossip links Naminé's boyfriend Sora to Selphie - Naminé and Kairi team up to figure out why. Interrogating gym janitor ladies that ogle fit boys, engaging in borderline stalking behavior, and masquerading as CIA agents, the unstoppable duo is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.
What’s Expected began one afternoon when bored ole me was browsing Thought Catalog.
I’m attracted to articles that are relevant to me and interesting pieces on interpersonal relationships. One that caught my eye was: “This Is How You’ll Know When Your Guy Friend Thinks You’re ‘Just Friends’” by Steph Auteri. It’s an inversion of the classic falling-for-your-best-friend trope, and trope inversions are one of my favorite things in the world to write about.
With all that in mind, I quickly casted Kairi and Sora as the male and female leads. I wanted to write the story so that readers start out expecting a typical best-friends-turned-lovers tale but then whabam! Blind-sided by the inversion.
I always have a bunch of half-written ideas in the back-burner, so thinking of all this, I recalled an old idea where I wanted to write about the classic tomboy-to-girly-girl makeover from the POV of the girl’s best friend giving the fashion and flirting advice. I’d casted Naminé as the best friend, and I thought it’d be interesting to write about Kairi and Sora’s relationship from a third party’s POV.
AND THEN, among the tens of articles I read that afternoon included “14 Signs Your Guy Friend Has A Crush On You” by Stephanie Karina (this is totally irrelevant to my life and simply an interesting relational piece). It’s a pretty standard piece, but I thought: what if the twist in Kairi and Sora’s story is that as Naminé is helping Kairi ascertain Sora’s feelings, we find out Sora actually likes Naminé?
(So many readers totally saw this coming, cause I have a track record of writing SoraxNaminé pieces. Darn.)
And so I used the points in both these articles to create the fake quiz questions and craft Sora’s interactions with Naminé. This is how part one of What’s Expected came together.
ii. main conflict
I hit a snag in my writing just around when Sora confesses to Naminé after the party. I knew what I wanted everyone’s feelings to be (Kairi likes Sora, Sora likes Naminé, Naminé likes Sora), but I didn’t know how I wanted things to play out. It’d be selfish for Naminé to say yes and blatantly ignore Kairi’s feelings, especially since Naminé has been actively helping her out the entire time. From anyone’s POV, Kairi did what was supposed to be done: step down from a budding relationship she doesn’t want to come between, and even encourage a relationship between two of her friends.
Sora...I feel like boys always end up as pretty one-dimensional characters or just plot points in my stories. Oops. But anyways, on one hand, he seems pretty simple-minded thinking he and Naminé should just get together since Kairi says she supports them. But I think on a deeper level, he’s also right. Kairi’s feelings are valid, but so are Naminé’s and Sora’s. Why should they put their relationship on hold just because Kairi liked Sora before?
So, who’s right?
Like what some reviewers commented, this is all just a clash of good intentions and misplaced expectations. What I wanted to show was that when it comes to love triangles, someone always gets hurt. Which is why love triangles are always painful. Everyone wants something different, and there’s no way of satisfying everyone. It’s even more complicated when you’re all friends and you want everyone to be satisfied - but at what point do you need to prioritize yourself over others? At what point is that considered selfish?
Problems, problems.
I’ll admit the ending’s rather optimistic. Kairi gets over Sora pretty quickly, and she and Naminé’s friendship perseveres. Sora is understanding enough to wait for Naminé, who’s waiting for Kairi. Everyone comes out relatively unscathed. I thought Kairi getting mad at Naminé for ‘stealing her man’ or whatever was clichéd and totally unrealistic. Actually, I think Kairi being so understanding made it harder for Naminé to choose Sora, since she’d be giving up such a precious friendship. It might be a stretch to say she’d completely give up Kairi as a friend, but there’d undoubtedly be some tension in their relationship.
So, there’s my ending. Naminé made her decision, and there’s no right or wrong. You can agree or disagree with her; you might’ve made a different decision in her position. I once found myself in a similar scenario - less serious though, since it was just prom - but I said yes to the guy, ignoring not a good friend but a friend nonetheless. Life’s just a series of decisions you make and living with the consequences.
iii. reader’s challenge
So, here’s the challenge! If you want to, reread my story (gonna attract readership somehow) and see if you can spot these instances that suggest Sora likes Naminé (taken from Stephanie Karina’s article above):
i. He reacts strangely when you bring up your romantic life
ii. When you do find someone you’re interested in, he’ll find insignificant reasons the person isn’t worth your time.
iii. He will drop all other obligations to hang out with you, do you a favor, or otherwise be around you
iv. His mom adores you and will make passing comments about you two getting together
v. Sometimes you catch him staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face - like he has much on his mind and wants to say something
vi. He remembers oddly specific details from conversations that the two of you have
vii. Your opinion matters to him
viii. The people he dates always seem to dislike you
ix. He constantly tells you that the people you date aren’t good enough for you or that you deserve “better”
iv. conclusion
So, this project was more fun that I expected! I’ve always preferred multi-chaptered stories because I felt like there was more time for character development, but short stories can get straight to the point. You don’t have to spend forever with the backstories and crafting relationships.
Anyways, this was a joy for me to write, and I hope to be able to write more even with school starting. Though realistically speaking...that’s not gonna happen. But stay tuned for more pieces from me!
Alex senses something’s wrong when his sister comes home from school and heads straight to her room. Usually Rachel hangs out with Alex for a little in the kitchen, preparing herself a study snack while boasting about her accomplishments of the day. Alex would talk about how his day went and Rachel would encourage him to spend more time with his friends - he’s only in elementary school, after all. Then, his sister would shuffle to her room to do homework, though her door was always open to any academic or social questions Alex had.
So Alex knows it’s abnormal that her door’s shut and she’s refused dinner.
“It must be the new school,” his parents converse over dinner. “Staring high school’s not easy.”
“What’s Rachel doing?” Alex asks curiously, supposing his all-knowing parents have the answer.
“I’m not sure exactly,” his mother responds, “but we’ll talk to her.”
“It’s probably something frivolous,” his dad says. “Like which elective to take, or what club to join. This is Rachel, after all.”
“Oh!” his mother chirps, clapping her hands together. “What if it’s a boy?”
“Oh, that’s possible!” His dad is also in high spirits. “Our daughter’s attractive, and she’s at the age when girls obsess about boys. It’s only a matter of time before she starts going out with someone. Does that mean I get to prepare my shotgun and speech?”
“Stop it, honey!” his mom exclaims with a playful shove to his dad’s shoulder. Alex’s dad snickers, crossing his arms.
They’re so in love with each other that it’s sickening sometimes, Alex thinks.
“Finally we can have mother-daughter talks about boys!” his mom exclaims. “I’ll bring some dessert to her! Clean up the table and wash the dishes, will you, honey?” She leaves before either boy can say much.
“You’re helping, son,” his dad mutters. Alex’s secretly glad that he has the chance to spend time with his dad before he gets back to work, but he summons a worthy groan anyways.
“Why’s a boy so important?” Alex asks as he carries the cups to the kitchen.
“It’s important cause this is a new stage in your sister’s life. Don’t bother her too much now, eh? If all goes well, she’ll be engaged even before your mother and I were!”
All that doesn’t make much sense to Alex, so he just nods dumbly.
Their peaceful dishwashing is disrupted by a loud wail.
“NOOOOO!”
Alex and his dad drop their dishes and dash to the living room. His mother comes out of Rachel’s room with tears streaming down her cheeks. “M - Mom?” Alex says.
“Dear, what’s wrong?” his dad says.
“...it’s a girl!”
“Huh?” Alex blinks.
“She’s obsessed...with a girl!”
“What?!”
“Mom!” Rachel comes running out of her room, a blush on her cheeks. “I did not say that!”
“No, it’s okay,” Alex’s mom says, sniffling. “I was just - a bit surprised, that’s all. We want grandchildren, but it’s - it’s okay...”
“...can I still prepare a shotgun and speech? Would that be weird?” Alex’s dad ponders aloud.
“...equality and tolerance and love for all...we are not close-minded - I’m sorry, dear, you just surprised me that you’re homosexual - ”
“What’s homosexual?” Alex asks.
“STOP!” Rachel hollers. The entire family quiets down. “I...I am not attracted to girls, any girl, and especially not that girl!”
...
“Who?” their father asks. Alex is also thoroughly lost in this conversation.
“Victoria Mitchell! Doesn’t she sound so old-school?” their mother cuts in the conversation.
“Ugh!” Rachel groans. “She’s gonna beat me out for valedictorian!”
“...huh?”
“That’s it?”
“What’s valedictorian?” Alex asks.
“The smartest kid in the class,” Rachel answers. “Mom, Dad...I’m not gay, okay? I like guys. You don’t have to...worry about that.”
“Oh. Okay.” Their mother sighs in relief. “I - I mean, it doesn’t matter! Your father and I are open-minded people! We’re accepting and loving, and regardless of your sexual orientation - ”
“Oh my god, Joseph’s gonna die of laughter when he hears about this.”
“Who’s Joseph?” Alex asks.
“This guy I’m seeing.”
“...what?!” their mother screeches. “You already have a boyfriend?”
“What?” Rachel exclaims. “No, we’ve just gone on a couple of dates.”
“Kids like to play it cool these days,” their father remarks smartly. “They don’t put labels and all. Back in the day, when your mother and I met...”
“Oh, no, I don’t have time for this,” Rachel remarks.
“No, darling, it’s share with the family time!” Their mother latches onto Rachel’s arm before she can run off. “Tell us all about Joseph!”
Why, oh why did I join Student Council? The president’s just a figurehead, the vice president barks out orders like a commanding officer, and I’m pretty sure the two junior representatives are one step away from ripping each other’s heads off.
Day Three
Ahem. Sorry. I meant to write more that day, but Mom dragged me away to dinner and I had a lot of homework. And I was in a pretty bad mood after a rough day, so I might’ve sounded a tad more bitter than I am.
I decided to take it easy with my schedule, since I’m still adjusting to a new school and all. So Student Council’s the only extracurricular activity I joined. I thought it’d be a relatively low-stress activity and a great way to meet people and make friends. Well. Let’s not even talk about me not making any friends. My co-rep, a boy named Logan, likes talking more than doing. Meaning? He’s kinda bossy, y’know?
He’s got nothing on our VP Harper though. I’m just afraid my suggestion for the Fall Fiesta central activity won’t make the cut.
Our president Noah is nice enough, but he’s sorta mellow and too laidback about everything. Perhaps because Harper’s calling the shots. I wonder why their roles aren’t reversed?
Ah well. I still have homework. Oh, one good thing, I did talk to a girl in my math class today! Her name’s Julie, and she’s actually a year younger than me - should I feel bad that a 9th grader’s in my math level? Well, I guess it just means she’s smart. And she’s so good at math, and she’s really nice! Maybe cause she’s a freshman. But I feel like I can connect with her because she’s new to the school, just like me! I hope we get along well.
Day Nine
Okay, I take back what I said about Noah. He is really nice. He made us play an icebreaker game today and he kept on encouraging everyone to talk to each other. I feel more comfortable talking to people now!
But oof, I wasn’t wrong about the rest. First, Harper. Oof. As expected, my idea got shot down. She said cookie frosting was more appropriate for middle schoolers.
But doesn’t everyone like cookies?
Anyways, she kinda shot down everyone’s ideas, so I guess I shouldn’t take it too personally.
What else? Oh: the junior reps. With the icebreaker game, I’m learning everyone’s names. The junior reps are Alexander and Ella. Alexander’s pretty popular, or so I’ve gathered. I can easily see the appeal: he’s tall, on the basketball team, pretty good-looking if I must say, and he’s really friendly. He even remembered my name after only introducing ourselves once! Ella’s almost his exact opposite: she’s short and kinda short-tempered. Or at least Alex just really gets on her nerves. Hmm, wonder why? I wanna say it’s just sexual tension or something, but it seems deeper than that.
I’m getting carried away with speculations! I’ll just leave it at that. I should probably get back to my math homework...maybe I can ask Julie for help...
Day Thirty-Three
Wow, I’m sorry I haven’t written for so long! I got so busy and...and I actually started making friends!
The younger kids in Student Council are all really nice. Like I said, I think I get along with them better cause they’re all new to the school like me. All the kids in my grade have made friends already, so it’s awkward for me to try to hang out with them. Anyways, there’s Samuel and Lillian. Samuel’s really earnest and hardworking, while Lillian’s always aiming to please. They’re so easy to hang out with!
Julie’s busier these days cause she made the cheerleading team, so we haven’t gotten much time to hang out. But that’s okay, we’re still study buddies for math. She’s sooooo smart! Considering she already skipped a math grade! She should just go another grade up!
I’m also getting along with Alex and Ella. I know, so weird, right? It was pretty obvious to everyone that they didn’t get along, so one meeting, Noah assigned both of them to poster-making duty. And they couldn’t reach a consensus about where/when to meet, so I just pointed out that we have no Student Council meeting next week and they could meet then.
Okay, it was kinda scary at first when they both turned towards me with wide eyes. Were they gonna judge, threaten, or - or eat me?!
That’s just the silly in me speaking. Of course all they did was agree to meet up then. Yay me!
Alex then made small talk with me as we walked out. He’s so nice! I was surprised he remembered a lot of stuff about me that we shared during icebreakers. And Ella’s not as rude as she seems. Really. She just doesn’t like small talk and goes straight to the point on stuff. She’s actually quite funny!
I know, my first impressions of people are horrid. But my opinion of Harper isn’t changing anytime soon.
So sorry I haven’t written, but at least I’m making friends! From all walks of life, yeah! And...no one from my grade. I should probably work on that, eh?
Day Fifty-Eight
Today was the Fall Fiesta! It was so satisfying putting effort into planning something and the event going off successfully! Well, mostly successfully. I guess no one should’ve been surprised that Alex and Ella started arguing towards the end. And it was over where to host the next event! Talk about misguided dedication.
Alex and Ella are interesting though. They stayed after to clean and I volunteered as well, since I had nothing better to do (there was apparently a big afterparty and someone’s house, but I didn’t know who it was so I wasn’t invited...). I thought they’d just ignore each other the whole time and quietly do their own thing, but something just kept drawing them to each other. They just kept wanting to talk to each other! I swear it wasn’t me - I was quiet as a mouse, I’m sure they forgot about me halfway through!
I told them what I thought and they were intrigued.
Wow, I feel like a psychologist. Is this my future calling?
“That girl is gonna break your heart,” his sister foretells. But he takes what she says with a grain of salt, cause he knows his sister - like everyone else he knows, for some reason - is overprotective of him.
“Really,” Emma insists with more urgency than he’s comfortable with. “I met up with her, you know.”
“What?” This catches his attention. “When - how - ?”
“You’ve been hanging out with her a lot, even more than your other friends. Kevin called the house the other day and it was weird he didn’t know where you were.”
Jake manages to hide his blush by turning towards his side and opening the fridge door. “Why - why’d you meet her?”
Emma shrugs. “Partially out of curiosity, mostly due to my boredom with life. This town’s suffocating, you know? LA’s too close but also too far.”
“You chose to spend the summer here.”
“Hey. A little more enthusiasm would be much appreciated.”
Jake bites his tongue to stop himself from saying any more. He’s just a little sensitive now, upon finding out that his sister has somehow clandestinely met his...his...?
What’s an appropriate label to describe Lea? Close female friend? Potential romantic interest? Two-month acquaintance?
He sometimes still can’t believe he’s only known her for two months. It feels like he’s known her since forever, cause he’s told her stuff and shared stuff and learned stuff about her, more so than some of his friends from childhood. Something just clicked when they met, and the intensity of his feelings despite the short period of time they’ve known each other confirms how sure Jake is of his feelings.
Lea is someone special to him, he knows.
It’s strange, because he’s watched Allison, and Blair, and even Kevin fall for someone. It seems to always be a slow arduous process of stolen glances and secret confessions. But for him, there’s never been a trial period when they’ve tested their feelings. Upon meeting, Jake had felt a connection. And all throughout knowing her, Jake’s felt that she feels the same way about him as he does about her.
How can not be real?
“I’m still calling it,” his sister says in a know-it-all belying a concerned tone. “She’s gonna smash your heart into itty-bitty pieces.”
“Some encouragement instead would be nice,” Jake points out dully. “This is your younger brother’s first relationship he’s walking into.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to say ‘I told you so.’ Can we bet on it?”
“You know I don’t bet on people’s lives, Emma.”
“It’s not people’s lives, per se - it’s their life choices. C’mon, don’t you miss betting with me? Remember when I thought the first girl your little friend liked would break his heart?”
“Yeah, and you still owe me 10 bucks. Kevin dumped his first girlfriend cause she was emotionally unavailable.”
“Oh c’mon, you don’t really think his first girlfriend was the first girl he liked?” Jake pauses at Emma’s words. “Oh dear, I told myself I wouldn’t get involved in you youngling’s trifling affairs. It’s quite amusing, though, to watch.”
“You also said Allison would be the target of an unrequited love. Allison’s always the one asking people out.”
“You are too inexperienced at all this,” Emma laments. “I’ll teach you my ways some other day, alright?”
Jake rolls his eyes. Emma likes her games, so he’ll let her have them. “Just leave me and Lea out of it, alright?”
“I never do anything; I just guess if things happen. Now if you’re saying my guessing has some sort of effect on the cosmic universe, inducing certain events to happen by my sheer willpower - ”
“I’m going to bed. Good night.” Jake cuts her off before Emma can go into her spiel about telekinesis and how it might really exist. He’s heard it three times too many.
Thoughts about Lea swarm his mind as he sits himself down at his laptop and presses the on button. He for sure doesn’t like Emma’s ominous portend, even though they’ve never bothered him before. Just - why does she have to talk about how a relationship that hasn’t even started yet is doomed? Does she get off on his misery?
He’s letting dark thoughts take over now, so he reroutes his attention to his computer. He pulls up the instant messaging app and, to his delight, Lea’s online.
Because despite what his sister says, he’s gonna do things right. His feelings are so clear to him, there’s no way this isn’t something real.
“You looking for someone?” a sultry voice murmured - no, crooned. Hell, she was good, he noted to himself before turning around and looking down at the petite girl before him.
“Just looking at you now,” he said smoothly, summoning a familiar grin. He felt himself relaxing into this preconceived role. It was one that wasn’t completely himself but he was adept at playing.
“You’re such a smooth-talker,” she returned. He wondered how she got that literal twinkle in her eye. Maybe it was the lighting angle?
“My name’s Elliott,” he introduced himself. “Sorry, was that smooth enough for you?”
“Very,” the girl returned, running a hand through her blonde curls. She stuck out a hand. “Julie.”
“So formal,” Elliott commented as he shook the girl’s hand. He found out he rather did not like it, because it felt more like a business introduction than a casual encounter. “Julie?” He tested the name aloud, hoping his skepticism of that being her real name wasn’t so oblique to her. He wondered what Julie was short for - Julia? Juliet? Julianna?
“Mhmm,” she murmured, finishing the last of her drink, whatever it was. Elliott flagged down the bartender and got her another glass before she could say anything.
“I’m actually done for tonight,” she said, swirling the refilled glass. “Any more, and I won’t be able to wake up in time for work tomorrow.”
A smirk stretched across his face. “It’s Sunday tomorrow, missus.”
She returned his smile just as eagerly. “Some people do work on Sundays, mister.”
He could admit a fault. “My apologies, I didn’t know you were that special.”
“Special I am.”
“Do you live near here?” she asked.
Elliott paused for a moment. “Yeah,” he then responded, idly wondering what she meant by ‘near.’ “You?”
“Not sure,” she chirped. “I’m here on a business trip, and we just checked in our hotel yesterday. I came to explore and somehow wounded up here tonight.”
Hmm, a brave soul. He liked adventurous girls. “Day Two and already bar-hopping?”
“Is it strange that I feel at home here?” She looked around the dim-lit room. “You know, bars. They’re about the same anywhere. Gives you a homey feel, doesn’t it?”
He somehow felt this was more personal of a topic than she was letting on. He then realized she’d finished her refilled drink, and if what she said were true, she was probably drunk now. And he didn’t deal well with the philosophical pondering of drunk women.
“Do you need me to call someone?” he asked, drawing himself together and assuming a professional tone he used with clients. He didn’t think she’d notice.
She did. She even gave him the stink eye. “I thought we were getting along, and now you’re getting all business-partner-five-feet-apart on me.”
“Huh?”
“Lean over a little, will’ya?”
He was more curious than anything at this point by the rather enchanting petite woman from out of town with so many secrets and so few lies. So he bent over, and she took his cheeks in her hands and pecked him on the lips.
“We’re getting along, right?”
His hands found themselves around her waist, and he drew her closer. He wanted nothing more than to put his lips on that little sly smile.
“We are,” he agreed in a low tone, swooping in for a kiss before deciding to head out with her tonight.
“Please, Ella. My mom’s gonna kill me. You’ve met my mom. You know what she can do.”
That...came out kinda weird. But anyways. “Kevin, what? What’s wrong?”
“Just...this!”
I took the piece of paper from his shaking hands and stared at the circled number in red on the top. Ah. “Ah. You’re screwed.”
“Help me, Ella!”
“Dude, I have my own grades to worry about. AP World’s no pushover, and Blair’s genius brother is gonna beat me out for valedictorian at this rate - ”
“Your grades are next to perfect, Ella! So you gotta help me with my chem, okay?”
If we weren’t at lunch now, I’d totally figure out a way to skip out on Kevin. But he’d wisely chosen to corner me when I was most vulnerable, meaning when I was hungry and wouldn’t give up my food for anything less than a minor catastrophe. Oh, how well he knew me.
Or maybe it was just me.
Anyways. “Kevin, I really don’t have time. You can ask Mr. Brewster to get you a tutor, can’t you? He’s pretty nice.”
“He’s the devil, Ella!”
“Hey, I like Mr. Brewster.”
“He failed me on purpose!”
“Lay it off, Kevin, you didn’t study.”
“We didn’t go over this in class!”
“Just cause you slept through it doesn’t mean you didn’t go over it as a class.” Kevin was so predictable at this point that knowing him so well was quite meaningless. Anyone who’d hung out with him for so long would be as informed as me. Like Allison, and Jake probably.
While we’re on that matter... “Just ask your bestie. Jake took honors chem last year, didn’t he?”
“No way am I giving him another up on me!” Kevin declared. “He’s already smarter than me - don’t need to remind him of it everyday!”
Uh, maybe this was a male ego thing? Or probably just a Kevin thing - he was about as arrogant as they came.
“Please, Ella? I’ll buy you ice cream for a week.”
Oh, how did this boy know all of my weaknesses? “A month,” I negotiated.
“Wha - you’re bankrupting a high school kid, Ella! I don’t even make my own money!”
“We all know you’re loaded, Kevin.”
“But still! My mom’s always nagging at me about financial responsibility and such. She even cut back on my allowance that one time I paid for your lodging fee!”
“We’re on installment #3 already!” I exclaimed, bristled. I didn’t really like the fact that I owed Kevin money. Thank god I was close to paying him off.
“No biggie, take your time.” As usual, he brushed off most fiscal matters in his life. “C’mon, Ella, you owe me from that time, don’t you? Ice cream for a week - hell, I’ll make it two if you can get my chem grade back to a C average.”
“Okay,” I acquiesced. Like I said, ice cream was my weakness. Plus, I felt bad for Kevin. “No pass no play, eh?”
“Huh?”
“Aren’t you suspended from participating in athletic activities if you aren’t passing your classes?”
Kevin blanched and he snatched his most recent chem test back from my hands. “S - shit. I haven’t told Coach yet.”
“Don’t worry,” I consoled, or tried to. “There’s midterms coming up, so you can pull it up then, right?”
Kevin still wouldn’t look me in the eye. He was lost in his own world of F’s and irate coaches and deadly moms.
I was just glad I wasn’t there with him.
-
A/N: I was sick, that was why. I’m attempting a spree to make up/catch up now!
An accidental shove sent the canister tumbling to the ground. The cling-clang of metal hitting the tile floor left the tea leaves in the container a scattered mess to be swept up.
“Oh no,” Alex murmured to himself, dropping to his feet to clean up the mess. “Mommy loves this.”
“Mommy?” one of the boys sneered. “You still call your mom that?”
Alex felt his ears go red at the taunt. “J - just sometimes,” he said defensively. “Whaddaya call her?”
“Mom!” the boy exclaimed in a matter-of-fact tone. “Cause we’re not kids anymore!”
Alex knew Rachel called their mom ‘Mommy’ till she turned 12 and wanted to appear more professional for middle school. He was barely 9!
Well, it mattered to his new friends, so Alex knew it mattered to him now.
“What is that?” Another boy pointed at a bear head mounted on their wall. “That’s freaky!”
“My dad likes hunting...” Alex began, about to boast about his dad, but was cut off.
“Animal abuse!” one of them hollered and that set off a chain reaction of boys shrieking at the top of their lungs. Alex frowned, watching them look at him with wide eyes. He could feel himself growing smaller and smaller in face of their judgments and in a desperate attempt to avoid their insults.
The boys ran around the living room wildly without a care for the condition of the room. Alex grimaced, eying a dirtied shoe print on the rug. His mom wasn’t just gonna overlook that...
“Ack!” the tallest boy of the group exclaimed when he realized his shirt had gotten caught by the unsanded wooden cabinet. “My shirt! Alex, your house is creepy!”
“Dude, that’s a huge rip.”
“Just tug on it hard!”
“The rip’s getting bigger!”
“Ack! Why won’t this come off?”
“W - wait!” Alex exclaimed. “I can go get a pair of scissors...” His voice trailed off, because it seemed like none of the boys could hear him over their loud hollered suggestions at each other.
Finally, the tall boy grabbed onto his shirt tightly and gave it a good tug. The good thing was his shirt got free. The bad thing was he somehow got himself a splinter.
“AHH!” he cried out in pain. A few boy snickered while some approached with curious expressions.
“What happened?”
“You sound like my baby sister!”
“It’s - infected!”
"Is that blood?”
“WHERE’S DADDY?” the boy exclaimed, dashing out of Alex’s house with a few kids following suit. Alex watched the boys slowly file out of his house and followed after them to a house down the block. He trailed behind them awkwardly, watching the tall boy pout at a kind-looking old man and get his wound treated.
“Dude, are you okay?”
“I almost died! From an infection!”
Gasps of horror, including from Alex himself, filled the room.
The boy’s dad grinned. “Well, that’s a little - ”
But of course, he was no match for a rowdy bunch of boys.
“You almost died?!”
“That was such a tiny wound though!”
“He was bleeding! Blood just kept pouring out! I saw!”
More gasps.
“You’re awesome, dude!”
“All because of that table at Alex’s place.”
“Man, Alex’s house is cursed!”
“We shouldn’t go over anymore!”
“I thought that bear head was creepy!”
Alex cringed. He hadn’t known his house was cursed! Maybe it was the bear head’s fault...those eyes were creepy sometimes...
But his dad had told him it was a fake, to celebrate the spirit of hunting without actually hurting animals.
Alex sighed. He didn’t want this to happen. Feeling left out, he slowly backed out of the house and dashed back to his own. His mom was out for groceries but should be back soon. So he occupied time with the television and a bag of chips.
If only that were the only trouble he’d have with his peers in 4th grade...
-
A/N: I’m back! Starting afresh this month, since I relaxed a bit too much in August. Full-time student status...leggo!
This is just for fun. I typed this up in my phone’s ‘Notes’ app to help outline the story. You can check out my thinking process! And notice how I like to talk to characters/myself, even in writing...
(Angle: sora is too subtle, nams has low self esteem and never registers from his subtleties that he's trying to confess cause pshh, why would he confess to her?)
Plot: media studies class with Sora, hint about date again? FAIL SORA.
Chat with olette &co who tease her.
HAVE LUNCH TOGETHER MUAHAHA but nams still doesn't get the hint cause...cause...yeah I need a legit excuse now. Is sora being too subtle? Nams notices subtlety tho...does she? Better reread what I've written.
- senior privileges: skips media studies to bring her food for lunch D'AWW of course food is the way to everyone's heart
- and she was wondering why he was missing from media studies class SEE YOU CARE TOO NAMSIES
Soccer game: meet Kairi and chat: "Why do you think he kept asking you to his games? You obviously don't need an invitation to come. Seriously, Namine, the boy's my ex but he's my friend first. And I know my friends."
Namine's musings during soccer game - doesn't realize the game is over, shook out of daze by pence (AND SHE MISSED SOME SORT OF SIGNAL THAT SORA WAS CONFESSING TO HER lolzies sora you can't be subtle with this girl just LAY ONE ON HER)
OK and so sora tries: the jealously tactic. Where does this boy get his ideas... (Ok he thinks of this one because he remembers it got a rise out of Kairi and he's starting to doubt that nam has feelings for him so he just wants to make sure)
- unfortunately mboy sora doesn't realize that PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE DONT WORK ON PASSIVE AGGRESSIVES (wait is nams even passive aggressive) - ok actually in this case Nams is more confused because she thinks sora is confrontational and direct so if he's hanging out with Kairi then he must want to can't fault him for that --> pulls away from him
AND LOL SAD SAUCE SORA SO YOU FAIL ONCE MORE
Asks olette seriously, olette helps her analyze and...of course, as girls, they are unable to reach a conclusion about whether or not sora likes her
- olette is super excited about girl talk tho and spills about Hayner
Namine considers her own feelings
AND NEXT CHAPPIE LET'S TRY A THIRD-PERSON NARRATION - agh what's that term that's opposite of omniscient. Yeah, me, you know what I'm talking about. Narrate the story from a fly-on-the-wall's POV. Sora finally confronts her about her feelings during one of their one-on-ones in her room - this is his last resort because he feels it's nothing special (BUT ALL NAMSIES WANTS IS TO HEAR YOUR WORDS). See Namine's shock at being accused of leading him on, Sora's frustrations, Namine's confession in that self-love comes first and her conclusion that she did/does like him, and since he's leaving, she considers letting him know and so he won't have to be her 'what if'
Show their apprehension for how a relationship will work out with sora going off to college
Yayyyyy epilogue with loose ends wrapped up (so gotta reread and check story) MAYBE LETS DO PROM??
SO, I’m here with an update. Because I’ve decided to participate in Camp Nanowrimo for July (if you don’t know what it is, google it!), I’m putting the daily writing challenge on a pause for the month. On 8/1, this’ll be back up and running! However, if I’m struck with inspiration for another story besides the one I’m working on, I’ll try to write it here! No promises though - I’ve learned to not make promises.
to immortalize my thoughts @everyclover - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
