Summary: In which one dumb mistake made you don’t feel like you’re good enough for the seat. But arvid’s always there to convince you otherwise.
WC: 3.9k
A/N: first f1 fic, kinda nervoussssss. Anywaysss, the song feels like a ggreat show of how R feels in that car, so i think yall should give it a listen while reading to get the feels inn. Hope you had a good read!! And tell me your thoughts ab the story and perhaps arvid in vcarb???
“45 minutes in and it is not looking good for Williams' star rookie–She's knocked the Turn 1 barrier. Her front left had some advertising hoarding stuck to it, but her car's rear left is just at a completely skewwhiff angle here.
She's not caused a red flag this time, so that's… something”
“Fuck me! Sorry!” she groaned into the radio, words tumbling out before she could stop them.
“You alright?” she heard her engineer ask.
“Y-yeah” she winced, her jaw tightening as a dull throb flared behind her eyes. The helmet suddenly felt too tight, pressing down on her skull like a vice.
“My head just kinda… Hurts…” she took in a deep, ragged breath, chest rising unevenly as the engine roared beneath her.
“But im sure it’ll be fine” she added quickly, forcing reassurance.
The pain sharpened without warning, pounding against the inside of her skull in uneven waves. She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second too long, a low whimper slipping out before she could bite it back. Her vision blurred when she opened them again, the track ahead smearing into a mess of colour and motion—kerbs, tarmac, barriers all bleeding together.
She knew this corner. She had driven it hundreds of times. Her foot hovered over the brake a fraction too long, and that fraction felt louder than the engine.
Her stomach lurched.
She jerked the wheel left instinctively, hands moving before her brain could catch up. The car snapped into a sharp turn, tyres protesting as her sight slowly dragged itself back into focus.
“Woah—what is she doing? Why’s she driving like that?”
“Hey! What was that?” her engineer barked at her, enraged at her action.
“Sorry… I think my head’s getting to me”
Her voice came out smaller this time, breathy and strained.
"..."
There was a beat of silence—just static and the howl of the engine—long enough for her pulse to spike.
“Just hold on,” the engineer said, urgency creeping in now.
“A few more laps and you’re done.”
“Yeah.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening beneath the gloves. The laps dragged—not fast, not dramatic—just heavy. Every corner felt slightly off, like the car was half a second behind her thoughts. She focused on counting braking markers, on breathing evenly, on not thinking about the ache pulsing behind her eyes.
When the chequered flag finally waved, relief hit harder than disappointment.
She slowed the car, rolling back into the pit lane on muscle memory alone.
“Okay, bring it home,” the engineer said, gentler now.
She did.
Getting out of the car felt stranger than crashing. Her legs wobbled when her boots touched the ground, and she steadied herself on the halo for a second longer than usual, waiting for the world to stop tilting.
“Good job,” someone said.
“Thanks,” she replied automatically.
She thanked the mechanics. She nodded at the engineer. She smiled when she was supposed to. Every word landed where it should, every gesture came out right—but it all felt rehearsed, like lines she’d memorised years ago and was reciting on instinct alone.
Then she slipped away.
The quiet corner behind the garages smelled like hot rubber and warm metal, the air thick and still compared to the chaos she’d just left behind. She sank onto a stack of tyres, helmet resting beside her, and finally let her shoulders drop.
God. That was awful.
She took out her phone replaying it all on a relentless loop. Turn 1, the barrier, the missed braking point, the way her vision had blurred and scared her more than the impact ever could. Rookie mistakes. Worse than rookie mistakes. She pressed her palms into her eyes, groaning softly as the dull ache behind them flared again.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she muttered.
“You didn’t do nothing.”
She looked up.
There stood Arvid a few feet away, arms crossed, worry written plainly across his face. He took her in for a moment—how she was slouched forward, how she keeps on chewing her lips, how her fingers kept rubbing absently at the side of her head.
“You disappeared,” he said. “Figured you’d end up here.”
She huffed a weak laugh. “Wasn’t exactly subtle.”
He didn’t smile. Instead, he reached into his pocket and held something out. “Here. Take this.”
She frowned. “What is it?”
“Painkillers,” he said. “Because you’re squinting like the sun’s trying to kill you, and you’ve been rubbing your head since I got here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.
“I’m fine,” she said eventually, though it sounded unconvincing even to her.
“Mm-hm.” He sat down beside her anyway. “You said that last time, too. And the time before that.”
She leaned back against the tyres, staring at the concrete. He was right. Annoyingly so.
“And I’m worried about you,” he added more quietly. “You’ve been working twice as hard as the rest of us. Extra sims. Late nights. You never give yourself a break.”
She let out a sharp breath. “Because I can’t afford to.”
He glanced at her. “You need to rest. At least for a little while.”
She let out a sharp, humourless breath. “Rest?” She shook her head, frustration bubbling up, hot and ugly. “—and then what? Fall behind even further?” He didn’t interrupt. “I rest and someone else steps up,” she continued, voice tight. “Someone faster. Someone safer. Someone who doesn’t put the car into the wall in practice.”
“Hey,” he said quickly. “You did great out there. And not just today. You’ve been doing great. Two podiums in your first seven races—that’s insane. One slip-up isn’t going to decide how good you are.”
Her head snapped up. “That one little slip-up dropped me from P8 to P15!” she shot back. “If I can’t even hold my stance in practice, how am I supposed to do it in quali? In the race? That one mistake could cost me an entire weekend.”
Her voice cracked. “It could cost me my seat.”
He opened his mouth, but she was already spiralling.
“And it just proves them right,” she went on, bitter now. “That I’m just some diversity hire. A pity case.” She scoffed, the words left a bad taste on her tongue. “I’m only here because I’m a poor little girl and they needed to tick a box.” That’s what they say—what they all have been saying ever since she got there. Not that she deserves that seat, not that they admire her, no. They’re all saying she’s just some charity work. That’s all she is—that’s all she’ll always be to them.
“You know that’s not true,” he said firmly. “As much as they hate to admit it, everyone knows you’re talented. You don’t just get p5 in your second race because of luck. And it’s only been your first year. Besides, you’ve got the rest of the races to prove you deserve that seat.”
“It was just a fluke!” she exclaimed.
“The only reason I got p5 was because Verstappen retired and half of the grid DNF-ed! Not because I’m skilled. Not because I earned it.” Her hands curled into fists. “Definitely not because I’m good enough.”
“But you did deserve it,” he said, voice tightening now. “You still do. Strategy, pits, luck—none of that matters if you don’t have the skill to put yourself there in the first place.” He shook his head, frustrated. “You don’t fluke p5 on your second race.”
She looked away, jaw clenched.
“And you’re more than enough—” he started, then exhaled sharply, words tumbling out before he could stop them.
“You’re more than enough to me.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than anything she’d said.
She swallowed, throat tight. For a second, it looked like she might say something—anything—but instead the words fell out in a rush, flat and tired.
“Yeah, but your opinion doesn’t really matter, does it?” She glanced back at him, not angry. Just exhausted. “Not to them.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
She stood before he could try again, grabbing her helmet.
She didn’t wait for his reaction.
As she walked away, each step was more uneven than the last, her pace faltering like the ground wasn’t quite where she expected it to be. Her shoulders sagged, and she had to correct her balance twice before reaching the end of the garage.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“Hey—”
Dark spots bloomed across her vision, spreading fast, like ink dropped into water. The edges of the world dimmed, the garages warping and blurring together. She blinked hard, once, twice, but it only made it worse.
“Hey, you alright?!” Arvid called, already moving.
Her foot slipped, and the garage tilted.
He reached her just in time, fingers closing around her waist as her knees buckled completely. She didn’t even have the chance to brace herself—her body just gave out, weight collapsing forward.
“Hey, hey!” he gasped.
She went limp in his arms.
Arvid swore under his breath, tightening his grip and pulling her against his chest before she could hit the concrete. For a terrifying second she didn’t respond at all, head lolling against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded.
“Shit. Shit—okay. Okay.”
He scooped her up without thinking, arms locking around her like he was afraid she might disappear if he loosened his hold. Her helmet knocked lightly against his shoulder as he turned and broke into a hurried jog back toward the Williams garage.
“Help!” he shouted as he crossed the threshold. “Someone—please!”
Heads snapped up. Mechanics froze mid-motion.
“We were talking and she was walking away,” Arvid said breathlessly, voice shaking now. “And then she just-she dropped. Out of nowhere.”
“Get her to her room,” her manager ordered instantly, already moving. “Someone call the medic—now!”
Arvid didn’t argue. He adjusted his grip and followed directions, carrying her through the garage and into the small, quiet room tucked behind it. He laid her down carefully on the narrow bed, easing her helmet off and setting it aside with shaking hands.
“Hey,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her face. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
The medic arrived moments later, pushing past the door with purpose. Arvid stepped back just enough to give them space, arms folded tight against his chest like that might stop the adrenaline from spilling over. The medic checked her pupils, her pulse, asked questions Arvid barely registered. Finally—too slowly—he looked up.
“Will she be alright?” Arvid asked immediately.
“Yeah,” the medic said. “She fainted. Likely exhaustion, dehydration, and the knock earlier didn’t help.” He straightened. “She needs rest. Proper rest. I doubt she’ll be cleared in time for the next practice.”
Arvid nodded, jaw tight.
The medic left soon after, promising to check in again later.
The room fell quiet.
Her manager sighed, rubbing his temple. “You should head back to the hotel. I’ll call you once she wakes up.” Arvid shook his head without hesitation. “No.” The manager raised an eyebrow. “I’m staying,” Arvid said, voice firm despite the tremor underneath. “I was the one who brought her here. I’m not leaving.” There was a pause. Then the manager nodded once. “Alright. But if she wakes up confused or worse, you call immediately.”
“I will.”
The manager left, closing the door softly behind him.
Arvid sat down in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving her face. She looked smaller like this. Quieter. Nothing like the girl who’d been gripping a steering wheel at two hundred miles an hour just hours ago.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“More than enough,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated and scared all over again. “You just don’t see it.”
And this time, he stayed.
Three hours later, she woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck.
Every part of her ached—head, shoulders, neck—like the pain had settled deep into her bones. She groaned softly as bright overhead lights bounced off the polished floor and straight into her eyes, making her squeeze them shut again.
“Easy,” a voice said.
She cracked one eye open.
“You’re awake,” her manager mused, standing near the foot of the bed with his arms crossed.
“What… the hell?” she asked hoarsely, blinking hard as she tried to piece together where she was—and why he was there.
“You fainted,” he said simply.
“I don’t faint,” she cut in immediately, pushing herself up on her elbows.
“Now you do.”
She froze.
“Arvid was the one who brought you here,” he continued. “Wouldn’t leave your side. I had to practically force him to step outside and get some air. Told him I’d call once you woke up.”
She swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
“You need to rest,” he went on, tone firm now. “You can’t keep overworking yourself like this. You’re skipping tomorrow’s practice. That’s final.”
“But—”
“No.” He cut her off without hesitation. “You either miss FP3, or you miss the qualifying and the race. Your choice.”
The words landed hard.
She stared at the ceiling, jaw tightening as the reality set in. Missing practice hurt—but missing the race would be worse. Way worse.
FP3 isn’t the end of the world, she told herself. The race is what matters.
“…Fine,” she muttered.
“I’ll call Arvid,” her manager said. “And I’ll get a cab ready later.”
He turned and headed for the door. “Get some rest.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
She exhaled slowly, sinking back into the pillows. After a moment, she reached for the bedside table, fingers groping for her glasses and her phone.
Her glasses were there.
Her phone wasn’t.
She frowned.
“No, no—” she muttered, pushing herself upright despite the protest from her head. She checked the table again. Then the drawers. The small cabinet. Under the pillow.
Nothing.
She groaned, running a hand down her face just as the door creaked open behind her.
“Hey,” Arvid said softly.
She looked up. “Hi.”
Her words felt rushed—he noticed—as if she’s dreading the conversation. There was a beat. He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Uh—your phone’s with me,” he said, holding it out. “You dropped it earlier.”
“Oh.” She took it from him. “Thanks.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
“Look—”
“I want to—”
They both stopped, then let out a small, awkward laugh.
“You go first,” Arvid said.
She swallowed. “I… wanted to apologise.” Her voice was quieter now, stripped of its edge. “You were just worried. I know you meant well, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just—” The words caught in her throat, refusing to come out. Arvid stepped closer before she could retreat. He lifted a hand, hesitating for half a second before gently brushing his thumb against her cheek. “Hey,” he said. “You’re more than enough.” Then he closed the distance completely, pulling her into a hug. She stiffened at first, then melted into it, forehead pressing against his shoulder.
“I’m just worried,” he murmured. “You’ve been working yourself into the ground since we got here. You’re my best friend, for God’s sake. We’ve known each other since F4.” He huffed a quiet laugh. “We made it all the way here together.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“All that hard work," he continued, voice steady, sure. “It mattered,” he said simply. “Every bit of it.” He pulled back, eyes steady on hers. “You don’t need to bleed for this anymore.” Her chest tightened. “I don’t deserve you,” she mumbled, staring at the floor. “Why would you even want to be friends with me? I’ve always been kind of an ass to you.”
Arvid blinked, then smiled faintly.
“You looked lonely,” he said simply. “And sad.”
She glanced up at him, surprised.
“You got second place,” he went on. “Everyone was talking, celebrating… but you were all alone.” He paused, like he could still see it. “You were standing there with the trophy in your hands, and it looked like you didn’t know where to put yourself. Like you’d rather be anywhere else even though you’d just won something huge. He shook his head softly. “People kept walking past you. Not stopping. Not looking for you. And you just smiled anyway—this small, polite smile—like you were trying not to take up too much space.”
Arvid swallowed. “It was supposed to be your moment. And somehow you looked like you were sorry for it.” He glanced at her, voice quieter now. “So yeah. I went over. Not because you needed saving or anything—just because no one should feel that alone after doing something that big.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“I found you sitting alone,” he added. “Pretty much like today, actually.” His smile softened. “I made you laugh. You looked so… carefree for once. And I don’t know—I guess I decided then that I wanted to be the person who made you smile.”
His words made her feel… feel like she deserved it—her seat—made her feel like everyone else was wrong about her. He made her feel… like she is enough. The corder of her lips lifted—she doesn’t deserve him. She really doesn’t.
This time, when she smiled, it stayed.
They stepped out of the garage and into the paddock, the noise already quieter than before. She walked slower now, and at some point Arvid’s hand found the small of her back—not guiding, just there. She didn’t pull away.
They spotted her manager near the edge of the garage.
“Just in time,” he said, glancing up “I was about to call you.”
He gave her a once-over, eyes lingering a second longer than professional concern, then nodded. “Cab’s waiting.”
The car ride was quiet.
The hum of the engine and the steady movement of the road seemed to work faster than any medicine.
“You hungry?” Arvid asked
No answer.
Arvid glanced to his right. Her head had tipped gently against the window, lashes resting against her cheeks. Her brows were finally relaxed, her breathing slow and even. “Figures,” he murmured, more fond than amused. He smiled, careful not to move too much in case he woke her. He looked down at his phone, scrolling for a moment before placing an order. When the car hit a bump, she shifted—and without thinking, her head settled against his shoulder.
He didn’t move.
Instead, he angled himself slightly so she wouldn’t slip, resting his cheek lightly against the top of her head.
He gently shook her shoulder when the car stopped.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re here.”
She blinked awake, disoriented for half a second, then nodded and followed him into the hotel lobby. Arvid grabbed the takeout bag from the front desk, and they rode the lift up together.
She pressed the button for the 17th floor.
Inside the room, she dragged two chairs over, placing them instinctively close together. Arvid set the takeout down between them.
“What’d you get?” she asked.
He smiled, opening the containers one by one. First, lasagna. Then a pie.
“Lasagna and blueberry pie,” he said, setting them down. “Thought you’d like some.”
She froze.
Her eyes flicked between the food and his face, genuine shock written all over her expression.
“How did you—” She shook her head, laughing softly. “How do you even remember that stuff?”
She’d mentioned wanting lasagna months ago, barely in passing. And the pie—God, she couldn’t even remember when she’d said she’d never had one. Just that she’d always wanted to try it.
“You must really like me,” she teased, leaning back in her chair. “Next you’re gonna pull out some ice cream or something.”
Right on cue—
Ding-dong.
They both paused.
Arvid blinked. “…Huh.”
He stood and went to the door. When he came back, he was holding another bag.
“What’s that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
He winced slightly. “Okay, that was supposed to be a surprise, but you kinda ruined it.”
He reached into the bag and pulled out two tubs of ice cream.
Her jaw dropped.
The first was vanilla—simple, safe, something anyone who knew her even a little might pick.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “Fair.”
Then he pulled out the second.
Rainbow sherbet.
She stared at it, then at him. “Wow,” she said. “You’re actually obsessed with me.”
Arvid gasped dramatically. “How did you find out?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Damn. I called it. You’re into me.”
He sank back onto the chair, studying her for a beat too long. “Guess now I just have to wait for you to like me back.”
She snorted, but her ears burned slightly, and she focused very hard on her food.
Arvid noticed.
Of course he did.
After they finished the lasagna, Arvid gathered the empty containers and set them aside. When he turned back, she was already standing, moving toward the bed without saying anything.
A moment later, he followed.
They ended up sitting against the headboard, the TV murmuring softly in front of them. At first there was space—polite, habitual—but it didn’t last. Arvid flicked through channels until something mindless stuck, the kind of show you didn’t have to pay attention to.
He opened the first tub of ice cream and handed it to her.
She looked up at him, amused. “You know you’re setting a precendent, right?”
He shrugged. “Worth the risk.”
She took a bite, eyes closing briefly as if she’d been waiting for it all day. When she opened them again, some of the tension had finally drained from her shoulders. They ate in quiet, the room lit by the TV and the city glow leaking through the curtains. She curled one leg beneath her, ice cream balanced dangerously on her thigh.
“You’re living dangerously,” Arvid said, watching the tub tilt.
“Relax,” she said. “I’ve got it.”
She did not, in fact, have it.
Ice cream slid toward the edge.
Arvid reached out automatically, steadying the container before it could fall. His fingers brushed hers. He didn’t pull away right away.
Neither did she.
For a second, they both froze—like they’d realized something at the Arvide time. Then he let go, slow, careful.
She didn’t say anything. Just took another bite, lips curving slightly.
They traded tubs a little while later, wordless. Their shoulders bumped during the switch, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her through his sleeve. This time, neither of them shifted apart.
The show droned on in the background—some overdramatic plot twist that made no sense if you thought about it for more than two seconds.
She did think about it.
“That would never happen,” she said suddenly, scooping another bite of ice cream. “Like, in what universe does anyone survive that without even a scratch?”
Arvid hummed, amused, eyes still on the screen. “Maybe it’s an alternate reality.”
She snorted. “Yeah. The laws of physics just took the night off.”
He laughed quietly—not at the show, but at her. The way she talked with her spoon, the way her brows furrowed like this was a personal offense. He found himself watching her more than the TV.
She kept going, commentary slipping out between bites. Complaints about the dialogue. About the acting. About how unrealistic all of it was.
“You’re impossible,” he said, fond.
“You love it,” she replied without missing a beat.
He did.
She leaned forward to grab another spoonful—and that’s when he noticed it. A faint smear of ice cream at the corner of her mouth, just along her cheek.
He hesitated. “Hey—”
“What?” She paused, confused.
“There’s—” He gestured vaguely toward his own face.
She immediately wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “Oh. Wow. Great. Very dignified.”
He smiled. “You missed a bit.”
Before she could react, he leaned in, lifting his hand gently to her face. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, slow, careful, like he was giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn’t.
Her breath hitched. His thumb lingered.
The space between them felt charged now—different. Heavy.
She tilted her head up without thinking.
Arvid didn’t realize he was moving until he already was.
Their lips met softly, almost tentative, like they were both checking to see if this was real. Then she leaned in, closing the distance fully, and the kiss deepened—still gentle, still careful, but certain.
When they pulled apart, it was only by inches.
She looked at him, eyes searching his face.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Arvid exhaled, smiling just slightly. “Guess I don’t need to wait any longer.”
finally back with a healthy neck and spine gng 🥳 i was almost worried sick bc my shoulders and neck kept aching but today i feel much better and ivr been drawing a lot
It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?
Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader
Word Count- 29k
Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!
Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting
A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :)
To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)
Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!
The End: 27th December 2024
"Careful!"
You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.
Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close.
The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.
You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.
Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word.
That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent.
Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart.
You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you.
Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car.
"Are you feeling cold?"
See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more.
"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up.
“And what did you say?”
You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?”
His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?”
“And looking at us, who will buy that?”
Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.
The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.
Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-”
“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?”
“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”
You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”
“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”
“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”
“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”
“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”
He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?”
Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”
“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”
“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”
“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”
“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”
“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-”
“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”
“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”
You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.
You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion.
This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it.
“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”
You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.
“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”
“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.”
It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right?
You weren’t regretting this, were you?
He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.”
Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it.
Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met?
“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes.
Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-
“Careful!”
Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough.
As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow.
Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black.
The Afterlife: 31st December 2024
Pain.
Unbearable pain.
That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain.
Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running.
Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either.
All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without.
Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....
Jun.
Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you.
It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods.
He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward.
Instead, you took a step back.
Then another one.
Then another.
Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him.
Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain.
When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him.
Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters.
As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.
The Awakening: 27th January 2025
The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.
Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him.
Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……
“Y/n…”
The argument.
The crash.
The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face.
“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.
“Sir, please don’t-”
“Where’s Y/n?”
“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”
He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”
“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”
Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?”
“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.”
Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance.
Alone?
“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…”
“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”
Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”
“S-she didn’t make it-”
“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”
“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”
“What you’re saying is not possible-”
“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”
“I don’t care, I need to find her-”
“You can’t leave.”
“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly.
Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear.
“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.”
Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut.
28th January 2025
“Let me go.”
The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again.
The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained.
“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”
“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.”
Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”
“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?”
“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”
“What about Y/n?”
Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.”
“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?”
“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.”
Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-”
“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-”
“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.”
Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.
“Open them!”
“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.”
Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark.
31st January 2025
“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.”
Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill.
“Do you remember anyone else’s number?”
Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”
“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him.
“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”
When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere.
Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream.
“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.”
“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.”
She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out.
Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso.
The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.
“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.”
Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe.
So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more.
He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too.
But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you.
There was no life without you.
The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.
At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you.
So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye.
At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way….
Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside.
You.
There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right?
But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf.
As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before.
Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile.
“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?”
“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.
“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?”
Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood.
Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him.
Maybe…. this wasn’t you.
“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?”
Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again.
It was you. There was no doubt it was you.
And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Excuse me?! Sir-”
“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”
“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked.
All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you.
“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.”
Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-”
“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”
“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?”
“Most definitely.”
It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?
Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind.
“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”
“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”
“Jun!”
At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear.
“Don’t say a word.”
“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?”
“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.”
“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.”
“Y/n what-”
“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.”
“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.”
With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused.
“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist.
“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”
“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.”
Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way.
“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”
Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t remember….” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.”
The throbbing pain was back.
Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere.
Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told.
“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?”
“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”
The procedure.
Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories.
Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth.
That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind.
“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”
Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him.
“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”
“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”
“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”
Minghao's words rang in his ears.
10 years….
Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.
The night of the accident…. that's what he had said.
Oh god, was that why you….
What had he done?
“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”
“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”
“Mean what?”
Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring.
“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”
“How exactly-”
“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”
“Jun no-”
“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”
“That’s not-”
“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-”
“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”
It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”
Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.”
Jun stared at the photo in his hand.
Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup.
Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.
Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears.
“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.”
Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that?
He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it?
But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore.
You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm.
Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too.
1st February 2025
“Where do I put this?”
Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms.
“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”
“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.”
Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.”
Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira.
Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories.
“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-”
“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”
For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all.
But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really?
And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour.
“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.”
As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands.
“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-”
“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”
Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then?
All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet.
Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.”
“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.”
Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”
Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday.
“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”
Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly.
“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.”
Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.”
“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”
“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.”
“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”
Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.”
“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”
“What do you mean?”
Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out.
“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.”
“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.”
“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.”
“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?”
“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.”
“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”
“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”
Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.
“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.”
Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house.
“We should probably continue with the packing.”
Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.
And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed.
“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-”
“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.”
Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving.
“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.”
And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.
He just needed some time. That’s all.
Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't.
Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life.
Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking.
He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you.
Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way.
But the universe said otherwise.
If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box.
At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together.
You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years.
Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years.
Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault.
Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong.
His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose.
He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again.
Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again.
2nd February 2025
Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold.
One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie.
“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?”
Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.
“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”
“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.”
You glared at him, eyes narrowed.
“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”
“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.”
“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.”
“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”
Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him.
“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”
“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.”
The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk.
Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you.
“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”
You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.”
You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him.
“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….”
Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile.
“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.”
Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile.
“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.”
Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.”
Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you.
“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.”
3rd February 2025
“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.”
Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face.
“What makes you say that?”
“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.”
Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.”
Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.”
“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.”
“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?”
Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now.
“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.”
You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’
“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”
“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused.
“How else will I be able to share a table with you?”
Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?”
“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.”
“I’m working.”
“I’ll wait.”
“I only get off at 5.”
“I’ll wait.”
“And then I need to head straight home.”
“I just need 10 minutes.”
You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him.
“They’re on the house.”
And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter.
“Do you need any help?”
You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired.
“I have staff Mr. Jun.”
“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.”
“Huh.” You frowned. “She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.”
Jun remained silent, looking away.
“You paid her.”
“I was just helping her go home fast.”
Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?”
“I told you, a conversation.”
“Well that’s what we’re having right?”
“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up.
“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”
“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything.
“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….”
Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink.
“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.”
“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night. Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.”
“What do you mean?”
“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction.
“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?”
“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”
“Don’t.”
And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.
“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”
“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”
“Sorry?”
“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…”
“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.”
“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-”
“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”
We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n.
“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.”
“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?”
Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him.
“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”
And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….
No.
Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.
“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.”
And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly.
“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?”
“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?”
“Not really, no.”
Bingo.
“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.”
“Jun I…”
“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.”
“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?”
Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”
“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?"
“It won’t come to that-”
“If it does.”
“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.”
And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day, we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?”
Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.”
“And you’re sure this will work?”
Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.
“Positive.”
“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”
“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-”
“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.”
Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.”
“And what if it still doesn’t work?”
“I don’t want to consider that possibility.”
“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?”
Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.
“I have no idea.” He confessed.
“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”
“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”
“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”
“-and she knew I like malatang-”
“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”
“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.”
This time Minghao went silent.
“Nothing snarky to say?”
When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up.
“Hao do you think she… remembered?”
“That’s not possible....”
"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.
Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."
"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"
"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit."
"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"
Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.
"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"
"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"
"I cannot promise that-"
"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."
"How-"
Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.
Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.
And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again.
You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.
You look so happy,....he looks so happy.
Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you.
Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away.
“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.”
A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3
stop. this is so sad cuz like shes acting as if she remembers nothing about him knowing damn well she didnt go through with the procedure. so she has to act as if hes a stranger with ten years worh of memories still fresh in her head.
please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun
Summary : You’ve been infuriated with Marlene for some time now and Professor Mcgonagall just happened to pair the both of you up.
Warnings : none!
WC: 1.7k
a/n : this story is based on a dream i had about someone.. hope yall like it!!
part 2?
‘god,’ Y/N thought as she stared admired marlene. oh marlene even her name sounds pretty with her lion-like golden blonde hair, freckled olive skin, ocean blue eyes and her pretty smile that could brighten up any room she goes to.
Just then, Marlene narrows her eyes into a crescent shape smiling ear to ear at what her friend had just said “so beautiful’ Y/N mused with her chin on her hands looking like an awe-struck kid who had just seen princesses for the first time ever.
“Who's so beautiful?” Her friend’s voice snapped her out of her daydream face turning red when she realized that she had accidentally said it out loud.
she looked around then frantically searching for something, anything, when her eyes caught another pair “You, Reg! you’re so beautiful! Have I ever told you that?” Exclaimed Y/N quickly hoping her friend would believe her or at least not noticing her err— appreciation.
“No. you’re fucking with me, you were looking over there,” the slytherin boy pointed to where marlene and her friends are sitting, with the marauders coincidentally sitting close by.
Regulus’ eyes widened “NO!” He let out a loud gasp “Don't tell me you were staring at my brother?!” He pulled on her collar forcing her to face him cupping her mouthful cheeks causing her to choke on her food. She slapped him away bringing her hand up and started pounding her chest, coughing brutally, Regulus hands her a drink to keep the food down.
“i was not staring at him!” She cried out after chugging whatever liquid regulus had gave her, still breathless after her coughing fit looking at him dead in the eyes “I was just- simply admiring as some would say” —it's not like she was lying, she was not staring at him she was staring at marlene, wait, no, scratch that, she was admiring marlene.—
Regulus eyes her still clearly not believing in any of her bullshit she smacks the back of his head causing him to let out a yelp before brushing her away letting the conversation go.
“Oi L/N!” Someone whistled, rolling her eyes as she made her way to her seat, setting her bag down as the voice continued.
“A little birdie told me you were checking me out..” He trails off “is that true? y’know there's no need to be ashamed” His friends giggling like little girls at his statement.
She clicked her tongue letting out a sigh, the one time she went to class early and she had to deal with this?
She turned around to the origin of the voice looking at him up and down “oh i was totally checking you out!” She clapped her hands together, looking up at him through her lashes with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips batting her eyes seductively bringing her right hand up to twirl her hair.
“Is that what you wanted me to say, Black?” She watched as his face changed, a scoff falling off his lips. Little did she know there was another pair of eyes watching their interaction with an amusing smirk drawn on her face.
As Sirius' expression fell, a sharp snicker cut through the air, drawing attention to a figure in the distance. Marlene was leaning against the wall, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous twinkle. Her body seemed to be gently shaking, struggling to contain her laughter.
Marlene pushed herself off the wall, gracefully making her way towards them. "Well, well, it seems like my dear friend here just couldn't resist your effortless charm, Sirius,"
She teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The corners of her lips curled upward, her lips on the verge of breaking out into a full-blown grin.
“Good job Y/N, you really put him in his place, we really ought to be friends” Marlene's arm wrapped tightly around Y/N's shoulder, drawing her into a warm side hug.
The proximity caused a flutter in Y/N's chest, her heart racing with anticipation, not only from being so close to the charismatic blonde but also from the realization that she had made an impressive dent in Sirius' ego.
“Thanks!” Y/N grinned, her cheeks tinged pink from Marlene's praise.
The other girl's infectious enthusiasm and genuine affection were intoxicating, and Y/N found herself leaning into the embrace. It was refreshing to be around someone who encouraged her to push the limits, someone who didn't hesitate to knock an ego like Sirius' down a peg.
Pushing her feelings aside, Y/N couldn't help but return a smirk, her gaze flickering between Sirius and Marlene. "Oh, I'm sure we'd make a terrific duo," she chuckled, a playful lilt to her voice.
Sirius rolled his eyes, his annoyance evident, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "You two are unbearable," he muttered.
“Aw, Sirius, you're just jealous that we have each other's charming company,” Marlene retorted, sending a playful wink towards Y/N as she tightened her hold on her shoulder. The smirk on her lips seemed to grow wider, her eyes gleaming with delight.
Y/N stifled a giggle, finding immense pleasure in the exchange. She glanced over at Sirius, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You're just upset that I wasn't as easily impressed by your arrogant banter.”
Sirius let out a scoff, his features contorted into an exaggerated pout. “Arrogant banter? I prefer to call it eloquent wit.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, the action more affectionate than dismissive. “Of course you do,” she retorted, her tone dry with feigned annoyance.
“Well, Marlene and I have more interesting things to discuss than your inflated ego,” she remarked, subtly shifting away from Sirius and closer to Marlene.
Marlene snickered at Y/N’s remark, clearly enjoying the banter shared between them and Sirius. “That’s right,” she agreed, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “We’ve got far more riveting topics to discuss.”
Y/N smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, yes. Like the latest fashion trends, relationship gossip, and, of course, our shared disdain for pompous boys with oversized egos.”
“Settle down everyone!” Professor McGonagall entered the room, her stern expression silencing the rowdy students immediately. She announced a new paired assignment, much to everyone's dismay.
“I've taken the liberty of sorting you into partners,” she declared, her gaze sweeping across the classroom.
Y/N groaned silently, dreading the moment her partner would be revealed. To her surprise, she heard Marlene's name being announced alongside her own.
She glanced over at Marlene, who seemed equally shocked by their pairing. A mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through her veins. This unexpected collaboration could either turn out brilliantly or end in disaster.
Sirius watched as their names were called, a mixture of annoyance and amusement playing across his features. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering between the two girls.
'Oh, this is going to be interesting,' he mused silently.
McGonagall continued listing out names, the students murmuring amongst themselves, clearly not thrilled with the assignments. Once all the pairs had been announced, the class was dismissed, and Y/N found herself walking alongside Marlene towards the library to begin their project.
“Well, this ought to be intriguing,” Marlene remarked, her voice betraying her excitement yet tinted with a hint of wariness. “Working closely with my new favorite person.”
Y/N chuckled, her cheeks tinged pink at the compliment. "Oh, I'm your favorite person now, am I? I feel honored."
As they entered the library, they snagged a secluded table near the back, away from the hustle and bustle of the main study area. Y/N pulled out her notes and textbook, preparing to dive into the assignment.
Marlene took a seat beside her, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I have no doubt we'll make a power duo on this project."
Y/N returned the smirk, her confidence growing with every passing moment in Marlene's company. "Oh, there's no doubt about it. We're going to ace this project and show them all what we're made of."
She glanced at the assignment's title, her mind already racing with ideas. "Alright, what do you say we start brainstorming?"
Marlene nodded eagerly, pushing up the sleeves of her jumper. "Absolutely. Let's do it."
They spent the next hour bouncing ideas off one another, their chemistry evident as they built upon each other's suggestions. They laughed, they argued playfully, and they found themselves getting lost in the conversation.
"This is actually going well," Y/N remarked, a genuine smile on her face. "I guess we do make a good team, after all."
As Marlene glanced up from her notes, a question danced on the tip of her tongue. Their project was progressing smoothly, but her thoughts suddenly shifted, seizing a brief moment of respite.
"Hey, Y/N," Marlene started, a subtle curve of her lips hinting at a playful undertone. Her eyes fixated on Y/N's focused expression, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Do you know what the date is?"
Y/N paused, her gaze lifting from the parchment to meet Marlene's eyes. She chuckled, her cheeks slightly flushed with mild embarrassment. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was out of it for a bit” she admitted, her gaze flicking back to her notes for a brief second before meeting Marlene's once again. "Can you repeat that, please?"
Marlene smirked teasingly, a sparkle of amusement dancing in her eyes. "the date?," she repeated slowly, emphasizing the words playfully.
Y/N's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, her brain struggling to comprehend the meaning behind the question. As the realization slowly dawned on her, a cheeky smile spread across her lips.
"with you?" she responded flirtatiously, her voice dripping with lighthearted tease. "Anytime."
Marlene's smirk widened at Y/N's quick response. She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her palm as she studied Y/N's expression.
"Alright then," Marlene replied, her voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "How about tomorrow at 8?"
Y/N's eyes widened at Marlene's unexpected question. She stared at the other girl in disbelief for a moment, mentally processing the question to ensure she had heard it correctly.
"WHAT?" she blurted out, her voice betraying a hint of surprise.
Summary: You're best friends with James, but since his new relationship with Lily, you find yourself standing on the side more often than not.
Your friendship with James breaks when he has to choose between you or Lily, and it's only after the damage is done that he realizes the consequences of his actions.
Note: Lily's kind of a not cool in this fic. Not proofread, mistakes (grammar and maybe continuity because I rewrote the middle from memory) Time lines are wrong, howarts is endless.
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“James Potter, you’re unbelievable!” You exclaimed, and if not for the widest grin ever plastered on you face, those words could hold an entirely different meaning. You gave James a tight side hug while you clutched your precious gift to your chest.
“Well, you better believe it darling,” Sirius appeared on your left. “Prongs made us stand in line for that signed copy for eight hours. EIGHT HOURS,” he complained and shook James back and forth by his shirt collar.
“And not to mention, he woke us up at 2 o’clock in the morning for that,” Peter happily reminded him, and Sirius wailed at the memory and dramatically dropped to his knees. You stumbled back and James was quick to hold you steadily.
“Oh, quit it with the theatrics,” Remus mused, and he pulled Sirius up from the floor where he had slouched his entire weight against your legs. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Sirius huffed. “For you maybe. Because you secretly wanted to get your book signed too,” he accused Remus. Remus sheepishly shrugged.
James pressed a kiss to your temple, and you melted inside. “Happy birthday, love,” he whispered with a fond smile, and you bashfully looked away.
“Thanks,” you muttered awkwardly. Godric, you despised the attention that birthdays bring along.
“On that note, I’m heading towards the library,” you excused yourself. “But thank you guys so much for getting that book for me, I love you guys so much,” you said and blew them a kiss as you stepped backwards to the door.
“Hold on,” James frowned. “We’re not celebrating?”
“Uh, no I have to work on our Potions assignment.”
“Oh. Well, let me walk you to the library, yeah?” James offered, but you had an inkling feeling that it wasn’t really a question.
You laughed and pulled a face at him. “I can’t stop you anyways, can I? You’re an absolute menace, Potter.”
“I’m just trying to spend the day together.” James wrapped an arm around you and guided you towards the door.
“You know, the day on which the world has been blessed with your birth. And just as it was always meant to be, might I add, because look at where this led, such a perfectly beautiful day to celebrate.” He winked.
“Today is a wonderful day,” you hummed in agreement. “But you know I was supposed to be born late April, not March. So not really ‘as it was always meant to be’ at all,” you pointed out.
James rolled his eyes. “Uh, yes it was. Otherwise, we would’ve never met at the hospital and become bestest friends.”
“That’s not even correct gramm-”
“Besides, didn’t see you much today,” James unbotherdly continued.
You shook your head in amusement. “Come along then,” you pretended to relent in a joking manner. James was already pulling you along anyway.
You looked back at the rest of the marauders. “You guys also coming?”
You got an unenthusiastic hum from Peter and nothing from Remus, who was too deep in his book to have heard you. You looked at Sirius.
“Darling, I love you, but that’s six flights of stairs,” Sirius laughed, and he settled in on the sofa.
You gasped in fake horror. “So, is that the limit of your love for me?” You sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I guess-, I guess that’s it then. We’re just not meant to be,” you sighed.
“I know, darling. And I’m sorry. Just know, it’s not you, it’s me,” Sirius solemnly agreed.
You opened your mouth to continue your devastating-sad-ending-love-story when James, who had felt strangely annoyed at Sirius, impatiently grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.
You enjoyed the feeling of walking hand in hand with James, even though it was short-lived. He let go of your hand as soon as he realized he was still holding it, and you two walked next to each other in a comfortable silence. Again, short-lived.
“I swear, one of these days, Lily might give me a chance. She smiled at me yesterday after supper, you know.” James happily bragged, eyes in a dreamy haze, no doubt imagining Lily.
You peered up at him and quietly admired his blissed look. It may never be directed towards you but seeing him so happy really made you glad and all warm inside.
Not that you’d ever let him know that.
Instead, you snorted at his words, tiptoed, and slung an arm across his broad shoulders. “In your dreams, maybe,” you sassed at him. James wanted to huff at your reply, but at your struggle to reach his other shoulder, he couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder instead.
“You’ve got to stop growing, James,” you protested and ducked out from under his arm.
“Quite the opposite actually, perhaps you should start,” he mocked you and you reached out to shove him but he put a step back out of the way fluently and then smoothly pulled back his shoulder just in time when you tried to shove him again. “So predictable,” he tsked. You opted to stick out your tongue instead.
“So,” James started. You hummed in reply. “Mum’s asking if you’re spending Easter with us again,” he casually mentioned.
“Oh really, Euphemia is asking me huh,” you teased him.
James looked away embarrassedly.
“Hm, not sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly. “Think I’m gonna be sort of preoccupied with my cousins from Ireland,” you looked at him through the corner of your eyes and caught his disappointed expression. A grin grew on your face like that of a Cheshire cat and you nudged him again.
“Oh, come on James, I’m kidding, you know. I’ve literally never not spent Easter with you. Besides, I live right across the street, James. I can literally come over any time, even if my cousins visit.”
“Yeah, but I meant like stay over at my house for the whole holiday,” James pouted. You glanced at him and smiled fondly. “Well, again; I live right across the street. So I guess I can also just go and visit my cousins at my house any time.”
You finally reached the bottom of the staircases and stopped mid-step. “Bloody hell, I forgot my books.”
You shot James a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just have to go back up real quick, but it won’t be long at all-.”
“I’m right behind you, love.”
“You can’t be serious,” you gaped at him.
James was beaming. Sirius and Remus’ jaws were slacked on the floor and Peter frowned as if he was trying to comprehend James’ statement.
“She agreed to a date!?” Sirius shrieked out. “But-,” Sirius stammered and he let his eyes fall onto you for a split second. It was very quiet for a moment while all of you processed this news.
“Well, I’ll be damned, Prongs,” you grinned up at him. “Not such a far-fetched idea after all.” You smiled encouragingly at him and he shot you a grateful look.
“Congrats,” you nudged him, and that seemed to break the rest of the marauders out of it, all congratulating and offering date ideas.
You zoned out for a moment. A bitter-sweet taste in your mouth. You we’re thrilled for James. You knew how much she meant to him. But that little piece of hope that you had unconsciously clung onto, made the news tough to take.
Regardless, you were just happy to have James in your life. He was your best friend, and you would support him, no matter what. Because you knew he’d do the same for you.
“When’s the date?” you curiously asked.
James scratched his head. “Uh, next week, Friday night.”
“Wait, Friday when you were going to take me to see the blue crescent moon?” you deadpanned.
“I’ll take you to the next one, I promise,” James solemnly swore and he put his hand on his heart.
You huffed in disappointment but quickly turned around to face Remus with a sweet smile. “Remus, my best friend,” you started, and instantly got pulled back by James who wore a pout on his face.
“Wait, it was supposed to be a you and me thing,” he whined while he tugged you back into his side. You stuck your tongue out and ruffled his hair.
“You’re busy, and the next blue moon is going to be a full moon, so we’ll be with Remus,” you pointed out. “And after that, it’ll be another two years until the next.” Then you skipped back over to Remus.
James hummed in thought. He knew you were right. “Fine,” he reluctantly said. “But I’m taking you to watch the passing comet next month,” he bargained.
You stuck out your hand with a laugh. “Deal,” you grinned.
“It’s a promise,” James confirmed.
It became clear to you that you might have overestimated your own importance to James after he and Lily officially started dating.
Your eyes were searching for James, and you decided to confront him when you spotted him.
“James!” You ran to catch up to him. You smiled at Lily with a small wave. “Lily,” you acknowledged her. “Can I borrow him for a moment?” You asked her. She shrugged and waved her hand in a discarding manner, “of course.”
“Hey uh, you didn’t show up yesterday, just checking in?” you asked James in concern when Lily was out of reach.
James mind blanked for a moment. He was racking his brain about ‘yesterday’ and his eyes grew wide when realization hit him. “Bloody hell, I completely forgot!” He exclaimed.
“Yeah,” you laughed, relieved that he was alright and had just forgotten about it.
“Well you didn’t show up in the astronomy tower so I tried looking for you, but I couldn’t find you. I asked Sirius for the map, but can you believe it? He said he’d lost it.”
You chuckled when you recalled his apologetic expression and completely missed the way James shut his eyes and pinched his nose in guilt.
“I’m so sorry,” James said. He pulled you into a hug.
“Eh, don’t worry about it, Sirius joined me to watch the comet pass by. Wasn’t that impressive, but it did look like a falling star so I guess I made a wish, and-”
“Can have him back now?” Lily’s voice came from behind him, and he quickly released you. “Yeah, of course,” you rushed to say, but she had already grabbed him by the arm and led him away.
James looked back at you and mouthed a ‘sorry’ at you. You shook your head dismissively and raised your thumbs up.
It was only during the next missed hangout, two weeks later, that you found out he forgot because he’d been with Lily instead.
Peter had seen you off to find James, and had watched you return three hours later, a sad look on your face.
“Not again,” he’d groaned and slipped up. You couldn’t be angry at James because you realized that he was just putting effort into his new relationship. Peter had hugged you and you two had spent the evening sneaking into the art room to paint each other.
Peter was surprisingly a splendid artist and you had put the painting that he painted of yourself against the wall on the floor next to your bed, and gave Peter the one you painted of him.
“Damn, Peter,” James nodded at the canvas. “You painted that?”
“Huh? Oh,” Peter was getting dressed and pulled his sweater over his head. He looked from the painting to James. “Uh, Y/N did,” he beamed. “It looks good right?”
“You guys painted..?”
“Yeah, cause you didn’t show up again yesterday,” Peter casually mentioned. “You know, she was-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because James had already sprinted out of the room to find you to apologize.
But as usual, James thought it had to be a grand gesture.
Flowers! Lily liked flowers. Girls like flowers, perfect. The idea popped up in his head, and he went to work to cover your entire dorm and bed with flowers.
It seemed like a perfect idea.
Until it evidently wasn’t.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind,” James apologized for the thousandth time as he sat by at the side of the hospital bed with the rest of the marauders. They shared a look with each other.
“Well, I bet you’ll never forget about my severe flower allergy ever again now,” you joked in attempt to console him. Your face was swollen and your eyes were bloodshot.
You smiled at James and tried to push back the hurt you felt at the fact that he forgot about something as important as that.
“I’ll make it up to you,” James quickly promised with a grimace.
“Do you get that same sense of déjà vu or is it just me,” Sirius remarked from the other side of the bed.
“No, I get it too,” Peter agreed almost too quickly.
James frowned at his friends for the little jab. They knew he didn’t do it on purpose right? He looked at Remus for support.
“Better be one hell of an idea,” was all he said.
“Oh come on,” you attempted to kick Sirius weakly with your leg but failed because your legs were still half paralyzed.
“Stop giving him such a hard time,” you started. James shot you a relieved look.
“He’s already feeling shit for almost killing me,” you grinned and James groaned and dropped his head on the side of your bed. You moved your arm with some effort and let your fingers stroke through his hair.
“I’ll be the best best-friend there is, starting from right now. I’ve got so many ideas for Easter holiday and it includes your favorite chocolate,” he promised in a muffled voice.
Whatever you imagined his ideas for activities during the Easter holiday included, it wasn’t with Lily in the picture. Yet here you were, sitting across of her at the dinner table.
They were both deeply engrossed in each other and you and Fleamont shared a look.
“How’s your year been, sweetheart?” Fleamont asked and he looked at you over his glasses. You smiled at him, relieved.
“It was great so far, I mean, despite being bedridden for two weeks, but the guys have been great,” you jumped to talk about your adventures.
“I went to watch the blue crescent moon with Remus, and the comet with Sirius. And I’ve painted with Peter! I’ve got to say, he’s painted me in a flattering light,” you rambled on passionately.
“Oh, and we’ve started a study group thing together, it’s basically just Remus and I trying to help Sirius and Peter though,” you lightheartedly joked.
“We’ve played some harmless pranks too, like turning every toad into a cat and every cat into a toad, it was utter chaos!” You shared and at his disapproving look and focus on James, you quickly intervened. “Don’t worry, James didn’t do anything, he’s been good,” you joked.
You missed Fleamont’s raised eyebrows.
“I’ve been swimming in the lake with the boys and pranked Remus and Peter with Sirius and pretended to be merpeople, you should’ve heard their screams!”
Your eyes were gleaming at this point as you relived your happiest moments so far. “Well, until Remus cast a spell on Sirius that turned him into a slug of course.”
“So when the four of us went to Hogsmeade…” You continued to ramble on and failed to notice how James’ eyes subconsciously trailed over to you every now and then, listening in on the conversation and realizing his name never fell once.
Lily noticed his divided attention and was unsurprisingly and rather justifiably annoyed at James.
She voiced out her concerns to James that very night during which you had excused yourself and gone home across the street.
You didn’t want to third wheel and Godric forbid should you share a room with Lily. She hated your guts as it was and you didn’t feel like being smothered in your sleep.
When you had offered to go back home, you had sort of hoped he would say something along the lines of “No, please stay” and instead were met with a “Yeah, that’s probably for the best”.
And now, all he could wish for was chilling on his bed with you next to him while he was being chastised by Lily. His eyes glanced up and he stared at the enchanted bedroom ceiling full of stars, Lily’s voice long gone from his mind.
“Are you even listening to me?” She waved her hand in front of his face and he fought the urge to pull an annoyed face at her.
At his lack of response though, she repeated herself. “I’m your girlfriend. I thought you wanted this?”
James let her words sink in for a moment. She was all he ever wanted. And it was so so different from what he’d imagined it would be like.
Of course, he wasn’t planning on breaking up or anything, he didn’t want to be that douchebag that was only in it for the chase after all. And he hoped somehow that those feelings would return sometime.
She was everything he wanted. He just wished she’d be more interested in his friends, less disapproving of his pranks, or more proud of his achievements at Quidditch.
He would appreciate it if she were just a little bit more patient with him, and shared a little bit of his humour.
He just wanted her to be more open and enthusiastic about their relationship and himself.
He wanted her to be a little more like you-
He reeled back from that revelation. Oh.
Oh no. That would ruin his friendship.
“-and you know what, you can’t have both, James,” Lily continued and he snapped out of his thoughts.
“I can’t be your girlfriend if she’s in the picture. So choose. It’s me or her.”
James stared at her in surprise and then walked out of his room without another word to her.
He looked out the window at the real starry night sky. It seemed to him that he’d lose you regardless. But maybe, he’d be happy with Lily. She was all that matters, he convinced himself.
“Don’t you see how wrong it is that she’s making you choose,” you asked him incredulously, but your eyes looked at him pleadingly. James forced himself to look back at you and shook his head.
“No, she’s-, she’s right,” he mumbled, and you staggered back at that. “I mean, you’re a girl, you know?” You raised your eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. “Astute observation.” You dryly remarked.
“And everyone assumes things about us, so please, you have to understand that this isn’t fun for Lily either,” James tried. “I just can’t be friends with you and be in a relationship with Lily at the same time.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.
“I can’t,” he urged. “And between you or her, I choose her. She’s my girlfriend,” he reasoned.
“And I’m your best friend since we were born,” you stubbornly retorted.
James looked at you beggingly, hoping that you’ll understand his predicament and that you’d make it easy on him. At the squint of your eyes and the deepening frown on your face, he gulped. “Please. I’m really sorry, but I have to choose her,” he finished weakly, doubling down on his decision.
Realizing that he wasn’t joking, it felt like he might as well have punched you in the gut. Your stubborn look flickered to hurt and then morphed into an ice-cold front of indifference.
You took a deep breath and collected yourself. You stared at him up and down, not recognizing your best friend in him anymore.
“You’re unbelievable,” you shook your head at him, and your voice was devoid of any emotion. With no other words to address the situation, you pushed past him roughly.
Months passed by and the summer vacation started. Then it ended and Hogwarts began again. All without a word from James. He had stopped spending much time with the marauders, mostly busy with walking after Lily.
Sometimes he would glance at you when she wasn’t watching, and he’d feel so lonely.
He waited for you during the vacation, but you never went to yourr house across his. Instead you spent your time with your cousins in Ireland.
When he made his way towards the platform on September 1st, he felt weird. First of all, he was slightly reluctant to go. He realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed his holiday without Lily.
But secondly, and perhaps most importantly; This was the first time ever that he went to the Hogwarts Express by himself, without you by his side, and an epiphany cleared his mind. Everything was so wrong.
You eyed him up and down. With lack of better words, he looked terrible. So terrible, that you might’ve pitied him any other time, because how could you ever be angry at James, when he looked so sad.
When his eyes are glassy and red. When his hair is disheveled as a result of an undoubtedly rough night. When his voice cracked at his sloppy apology. Or when his lips trembled almost unnoticeably when you said no.
But all of that wouldn’t magically clear away your own misery of the past months.
“I was supposed to be your best friend,” you enunciated slowly. “It’s always been you and me. Merlin, we’ve known each other since we were born and they ran out of baby cribs at St. Mungo’s, so they put us together in one!” you exclaimed.
You bitterly scoffed to yourself at the reminder of your literal lifelong friendship.
“But you cut me off for a relationship with Lily? Lily who rejected you for years and when she finally did agree to date you, never even gave you the time of the day?”
You stared at him incredulously and had to remind yourself to tone down your voice a little. You had unconsciously been raising it and didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.
“You followed her around like a lost puppy and cast me aside because she didn’t trust you for being friends with a girl and you were so easy to discard me,” you laughed humorlessly, trying to mask your hurt feelings. “I guess I must’ve really not meant all that much to you.”
To James’ credit, he at least had the decency of looking remorseful. His own words were replaying on a loop in his head. Of course he regretted it all.
“You can’t come back after that and expect me to just open my arms for you,” you firmly stated.
James looked at you helplessly, and you let out another laugh in disbelief. “Oh, Godric, you did,” you stared at him with wide eyes in surprise.
James could feel himself getting flustered and spoke up again. “I just thought that maybe-,”
“No, no, no. Like I said, I’m not doing this again.”
“Please, lov-, Y/N please, if you would just let me prove to you that you do mean so much to me,” His voice was getting increasingly more desperate. “I just want-, I need you to give me a second chanc-”
“A second chance? James, you are way past that. You’ve already had a second chance,” you bitterly told him. “Merlin, I’ve given you a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chance. I would’ve given you a thousand chances, but even that, you threw away.”
You tiredly rubbed your face. “I have nothing left to give you.”
Your words hit him in the face and his chest tightened.
“Oh… No, I-, I definitely understand.” His voice came out quietly.
James wanted to hide away. He felt utterly pathetic and ashamed at his own actions.
“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone, then.” He turned around but stopped mid step.
“But Y/N? If you ever change your mind, or if you ever need me, I’ll be there for you this time. Always right behind you.” James let his eyes linger on your face for a moment, taking you in. Merlin, he really missed you.
Your mind struggled to find the words to properly articulate all that you’ve felt these past months.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For not trying to fight for you more,” you sympathetically offered.
“Oh, what? No, that’s-, it really was all my own fault. I chose her over you, and it was stupid. I was stupid, not you.”
“I don’t know. I feel like I should’ve tried harder to find a solution. I regret it too, you know, that we lost us.”
James frowned at your words.
“You-, I don’t even-,” you sighed. “I thought we would be in it for life, you know,” you eventually confessed, and James eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he understood that completely, but his heart had made a small jump at your confession. Surely you didn’t actually mean…?
“Maybe not side by side as lovers or anything,” you quickly tried to cover yourself, but instead confirmed James’ thoughts. “But I was so sure we’d be partners nonetheless.” James watched you smile fondly, but sadly at the thought.
“I tried so hard not to be jealous of the fact that I was no longer the first person you’d go to for everything.” You chewed on your lower lip and James forced himself to pry his eyes away from it.
“You could be again,” James whispered to himself. But it was loud enough for you to hear it. You chose to ignore it and the way your heart tugged.
“But it was never an issue of jealousy when you actively forgot me on so many different occasions and then just kicked me out for her.”
“I'm sorry, I don’t know why I… how I even…”
“Look, I have to go,” you settled on, and nodded awkwardly at him. “But thanks for apologizing,” you added before you left.
You’d gone about your life according to the same routine of the past few months and paid James little to no mind. Though he was spending all of his time with the marauders again, you somehow found a way of disappearing right when he would arrive.
Days passed and James watched you laugh at the punchline of the joke that a ghost had told you. So close and yet so far.
James knew that you told him no when he had asked if things could go back to the way they were, but he couldn’t give up on you. It was as if something was physically stopping him from doing so.
He wanted you to see him again, but would never cross your boundaries, which left him in a difficult position.
The first opportunity presented itself when he overheard some guy talk shit about you. Except he only saw red instead of an opportunity. Because how dare they.
“She’ll give in someday. I’ll show her how to have a good time. Godric knows she’s too prudish, wouldn’t even let me-“
James surged forward before he could even think and grabbed the guy by the collar, his wand was pointed at the boy’s throat in a matter of seconds, a piercing glare on his face as he gritted through his teeth.
“Don’t.” It was a warning and the boy heeded it and scrambled away when James released him.
“What are you looking at,” he called out to the students that had stopped to watch what was happening. They too, quickly scrambled away, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.
But by supper, everyone had heard about it, including you. You looked at him from further down the table and nodded at him with a appreciated smile.
James heart skipped a beat and he dreamed of you that night.
So what else could he do for you that would make you happy, he wondered while he wandered around the castle. The marauders were hanging out with you right now, leaving James to his own devices.
“Books!” He yelled out loud and it startled a cat. “Signed books had been successful, right? But what books, and how to…” He muttered to himself.
You stared at the pile of books that started to form next to you while owls flew in and back out again, only to return with more books. When you opened the one on the pile to your left, you saw that it was signed by one of your favorite authors.
Your eyes grew wide and you quickly inspected the signature from up close. Your hands stroked the beautiful hard back cover of the book. First copy.
People all over the great hall were looking at the spectacle but you just laughed and blew a kiss at the last owl.
You glanced at James because you knew it was him who orchestrated all of this. Only he would know all your favorite authors and books.
James simply offered you a smile and continued eating his food, but he was absolutely beaming inside at the gleeful look on your face.
You visited him in his dorms that night. “James,” you whispered. You held your finger to your lips as a sign not to wake the others.
“James, thank you for the books, they’re amazing,” you told him. “But James, you’ve got to stop. Don’t fight on my behalf. Don’t spend so much money on me. Please “ you begged him.
James’ smile fell. “I made you uncomfortable,“ he noted. You sighed and sat down on his bed. “I used to give you gifts all the time,” he weakly defended himself.
“I don’t want to forgive you,” you started. James looked down.
“You hurt me. Do you get that? You hurt me and broke our friendship and I don’t know when I’ll want to be friends again, but it’ll never the same when I do. So you have to stop doing all of this. You can’t try to buy it with gifts and heroic deeds.”
“I don’t want it to be the same either,” James sighed out in a defeated tone. “I just need you with me. One way or another. I’m not trying to buy anything, I just want to make you happy.”
You understood his words and the implied confession behind them. After all, you had felt the exact same way months ago.
You sadly smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. James closed his eyes at the contact and tried to savor the moment. You really were his greatest regret.
“I don’t want to forgive you,” you stubbornly repeated.
“You don’t have to. I just want to be there.”
“Right behind me, right? No matter what pace?”
“Of course,” he replied.
It took time. Months and months actually, where he respected your boundaries and slowly inserted himself back into your life, with your permission of course.
At first simply joining you with the marauders again. Then thoughtful actions such as giving you his spare quill. Later on even sitting next to you during Transfiguration and building up to study nights and eventually back to star gazing.
However slow it was, everything was worth it, James thought to himself as he opened the door to invite you in for the Easter holiday.
“Hi, thank you for coming over,” he widely smiled.
“Ah you know, I live right across the street, love.”
A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫
Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words
Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers
George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.
You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.
"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.
"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.
"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"
"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"
"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.
"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.
"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.
Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.
"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.
"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."
You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.
"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.
"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."
She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.
"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"
"Oh, George—! He's not my..."
"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.
"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."
"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.
"May I ask... what became of him?"
"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"
You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.
"You just have to love ‘em while you can."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."
"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.
You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.
"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.
How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.
He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.
Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.
George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.
"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"
"George!"
The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.
“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"
"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.
You look down and gape at the mess.
"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."
He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.
"That's adorable," he warbles.
You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.
“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"
"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”
Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.
"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."
"But Pomfrey—"
"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”
Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.
But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.
"You're very beautiful."
Daggers. “Shut up.”
He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."
"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"
"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"
But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.
"Quit staring."
"Sincerest apologies."
You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.
"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"
"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."
"Be serious, Weasley—"
"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."
"That's not fair!" you say.
"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."
Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?
"You're being idiotic—”
"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"
"George, quit it,” you say.
"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"
"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"
Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.
And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.
You groan.
"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."
He shrugs. "I am crazy…"
"Do not—"
"… Crazy in love."
"I hate you"
"I know."
You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.
"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."
He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."
You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.
"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.
"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.
"Good. And if it does, then—"
"Then I’ll quit the team.”
"What!"
"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."
Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.
"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"
"Oh, so you won a kiss.”
"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."
"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”
You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.
"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"
"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"
"Madam, he's awake!”
"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.
"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low
"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."
He grumbles something under his breath.
Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”
You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"
"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.
"Well, what else would you be?"
"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”
“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.
synopsis: you, an assassin, find out you’ve been married to another assassin for the better half of a decade.
tags: mr. & mrs. smith inspired ; assassin!au ; momo runs you over with a car ; it got really soft, i’m not sorry ; smut ; angst ; fluff ; violence warning ; mentions of guns ; anything else i’ve missed ; not proofread!!
when you go into the office, you’re already in an awful mood. you’re one of the best in your field with over fifty kills under your belt. you’ve never had any issues with the target until last week. that asshole—some assassin from another firm, no doubt–totally cut off your view and the target escaped. you tried to catch up, but it was too late. now, the target was in high-security lockdown and the chances of killing him are slim to none.
jihyo had told you to take a few days to cool off so the team could investigate what went wrong with your approach. you’d grabbed some coffee for yourself from downstairs, so you got one for jihyo too. she smiles gratefully as she takes a sip of the proffered drink. “you holding up?”
“yeah, still pissed though. i almost had him.” you complain as you plop down in your seat. “morning.”
“morning.” she tosses it back as she goes through her papers. “so, we’ll walk through some of the stuff the team found but i have something better. this is your next assignment.” jihyo pushes the folder in front of you. “it’s the bitch that fucked up our last assignment. that firm has been going after too many of our targets so it’s time to take out the competition.”
thank god, something productive to do and somewhere to channel your frustration with the whole mission. you open the folder and stare. and stare. you then look up at your friend and glare at her. “that’s not funny, jihyo.”
she shoots you a confused glance. “what’s not funny?”
you put your finger on the huge printout on the front page. “that’s— that’s my wife!” it could be no other but momo looking up at you, stone-cold serious in all black, looking how you’ve never seen her before.
jihyo purses her lip. “cute, y/n.” she rolls her eyes. “that’s not your wife, that’s the competition. we need to take her out. she’s not good for business.”
you stand up in your agitation, pacing the room. “jihyo, this isn’t a joke.”
she stares for a few moments until she can tell you’re serious. her eyes widen almost comically. “wait, really? that’s your wife?” her eyes dart to the picture.
“yes! that’s momo!” you’d know her face anywhere. momo isn’t an assassin—she works for some tech company where she does a load of things you barely understand. there’s no way she’s hidden this from you.
“no way.” jihyo takes a closer look. “she’s really hot.” her eyes narrow on you. “are you sure that’s your wife?”
“yes!” you hiss, your hand coming down to strike the table. “you’ve never seen my wife. why wouldn’t she be hot?” you ask, momentarily sidetracked.
“well, if she was this hot i’d have questions. you know no one is this hot without some skeletons in their closet. which apparently, might also be a hired gun.” jihyo eyes you warily. “besides, you kind of just complain about her, y/n. i kind of imagined her i don’t know... frumpy?”
guilt tugs at your gut. you do love momo, even if things have been difficult for a long time. you married her because you loved momo and she was also great in bed and a good cover. still, seven years of marriage have worn on the two of you, and the spark you both used to have seemed lost. still, that didn’t mean she had a whole secret life.
you shake the thoughts out of your head. “whatever. the point is, what am i supposed to do? i’ve been sleeping next to an assassin for the better part of a decade?”
“i mean, isn’t she sleeping next to an assassin every night?”
“yeah, but it’s not the same— jihyo.” you lower your voice. “i won’t kill her. i can’t. she’s everything to me, even if were in a rut.” momo floated the idea of marriage counseling just last week. it seemed like the two of you might have bigger problems than that now.
“the hit has been issued though.” jihyo points out the obvious. you have never refused a hit—it’s not something that goes well in this industry.
“just give me some time? please?” jihyo is your co-worker but she’s also your closest friend. one doesn’t get far in this industry without someone to count on and for you, that’s jihyo.
jihyo sighs and bites her lip. “just hang low and let’s see if i can work something up with the team. maybe there’s an error.” she allows. “you relax and try to figure out if your babe of a wife kills people for money.”
your eyes narrow. “hey, you might be a hired gun but that doesn’t mean you can talk about her like that.”
jihyo gives you a saccharine smile. “oh, that was purely because she’s hot. see you later y/n!”
you shake your head and roll your eyes. “thanks, jihyo.” you head to your office. it looks like it’s going to be another paperwork day while you stew over this.
when you go home that night you feel like you’re walking on eggshells. you remember to take off your shoes at the door and put on the slippers that momo always lays out for you. you take a deep breath, unsure how you’re going to act normal. when you go into the kitchen, there’s momo. like always, she’s cooking, putting the finishing touches on something that smells amazing. you lean against the entryway, staring at her.
she’s always been beautiful, that was never a question in your mind from the first time you saw her when you were on a mission in bogotá. today, she’s wearing a baby blue dress that hugs her figure, and a white apron that is pristinely clean. momo’s clean and loves order, is a tremendous cook, and has a dry, if subdued, sense of humor. you know her pretty well, you think. could she really be hiding something so big from you?
momo finally catches you staring and sends you a soft smile. “hey, you. dinner is almost ready.” she walks up to you and presses a perfunctory kiss to your lips like she does every day that you come home.
“hey. it smells great.” you pull momo close, and she lets out a surprised yelp, not expecting the affection.
you look down into momo’s eyes, both eyes brown. except in the picture you received at work, she was wearing contacts to make both her eyes blue. but it’s the same face. it has to be her. you pull momo in for a hug, feeling her pressed in your arms. momo hesitantly returns it, one hand rubbing up and down your back.
“are you alright, baby?” she sounds genuinely concerned and you wonder if that’s real or if it’s a lie too. momo’s studying your face a little too intently.
you’ve been lying just as long and as well. “i’m fine. just stress at work. you know how it is.” you shrug, one of your hands squeezing momo’s waist.
momo laughs you off. “yeah, i know how that can be. although i think your job is a little more difficult than mine.” if you weren’t looking for it, you might miss the sardonic twitch of momo’s lips. she spins around and starts tending to the food again, this time serving plates.
“do you need help with anything?” you offer.
momo shakes her head, already moving things to the table. “no, i’m good. just sit down so we can eat.”
the table is artfully done, all of the cutlery just so. the handle of the knife is cold to your touch as you pick it up, holding it a little tighter than usual. you cut into your steak like butter. have your knives always been this sharp? you’ve never noticed before.
“we need to replace that curtain.” momo reminds you as she works on her own food, her eyes glancing up at the big bay windows in the living room. she’s sitting at the far end of the dining table, miles of distance between you both.
you couldn’t give three shits about the curtains. “sure.” you agree readily.
momo narrows her eyes, which in your experience, can only mean trouble. “i asked you to look at the options i picked three days ago.”
the only sound is cutlery touching the plates as you study her face. “i looked at them.” you lie. “i liked the second one.” that seems inoffensive enough.
“what color was it?” she challenges, eyes bright.
you stop moving your fork in your mashed potatoes. “what?”
she leans forward in her chair, propping her elbow on the table. “what color was it, y/n?”
you consider her for a moment. momo never really angers with you—but maybe she does. maybe you know nothing about her after all. “blue.” you toss out.
a look of clear irritation passes her face but then it’s gone, shuttering away. “you must mean the green. i’ll order it tonight.”
youre sawing at your steak now. “sounds lovely.”
momo turns back to her food, and you do the same. it feels like a thick fog of tension has rolled over you both—every time your eyes catch, they dart away, minding your food and your wine glasses.
a thought strikes you as you take in the careful way that momo regards you. if momo’s cover is blown, then so is yours probably. but there’s no way to be sure. at least, it’s not something you’ll discover over a dinner conversation.
you walk to the middle of the table, picking up the bottle of wine that’s there. you quietly pad over to momo. she looks at you, a tightness in her eyes that hadn’t really left since the two of you started dinner. just as you reach momo, you stop, pouring her glass full of wine.
you don’t bother to look at the glass, instead staring at momo. she gives you an even stare back, leaning back and gripping the arms of her chair.
“thank you.” she murmurs quietly as you finish.
you don’t bother responding instead letting go of the bottle suddenly. in a flash, momo’s arm springs forward, catching the bottle before it hits the ground. if you thought things were tense before, it doesn’t even begin to compare to now. you can feel the realization sink in your gut—it’s momo. momo, the hired gun that fucked up your last assignment, your next target—all of it is momo.
“lucky catch,” you say, even though the two of you both know it’s not true.
momo drops the bottle as if it burned her, red wine staining the white rug.
“clumsy me.” she gets out of her seat. “i need something in the kitchen to clean this up.” momo turns quickly, her steps measured but fast as she walks away.
you walk toward your office just as quickly. you can just tell that there’s no going back and momo is a hostile threat the same way she was on the tarmac last week. you find one of your guns hidden in the drawer, drawing it and holding it out in front of you. you’ll be damned if you let momo kill you.
as you creep along the wall slipping out of your office, you think you must be losing your mind. but there was no feigning the knowledge in momo’s eyes, the caught look when she used cat-like reflexes you didn’t even know she had.
“honey?” you call out loudly, hoping to catch momo unaware. you hear the rev of the engine and curse when you see momo’s car pelting out of your driveway.
“fuck!” you run after her, knowing that your only chance is to cut through the backyards and hope you catch up to her. there’s no way you can start up your car in time. after a split second, you’re running full tilt out of the house, gun in hand. you pray the neighbors don’t see.
you cut through one yard and catch sight of momo’s taillights. “momo!” you bellow out. “we need to talk about this!” it’s ridiculous to think you’ll take the bounty on momo’s head—the both of you just need to figure this out. you both are married, for as much as its worth now. even if you both lied to each other, you’re not going to murder her.
momo’s car keeps revving forward, and you make the decision to cut through another yard. your lungs burn as the cold air cuts through them. you grunt as you hop up, hitting your gut on the fence as you swing over. you’re actually ahead of momo’s car now which is a relief.
as you pull yourself over the fence, your grip on the gun tightens and you feel the recoil as you accidentally pull the trigger. you look up at momo’s car pulled to a full stop, a hole in the windshield. it takes you a moment to realize your bullet put it there. your heart clenches as you look at momo through the window, checking to see if she’d been hurt. she isn’t, but her eyes are tightened to near slits and her mouth drops open in outrage as she stares at the bullet hole.
your stomach drops. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” this is going to be worse than the time you forgot momo’s mom’s birthday.
you make your way in front of the car slowly, hands up in surrender. “baby, let’s talk about all this.” you give her a tentative smile. momo’s expression doesn’t change, and she revs the engine. “momo,” you say sternly. “you can’t just run me—”
getting hit by a car is worse than you anticipated, especially when momo doesn’t stop. you barely get a grip on the roof of the car, holding on as the car careens forward. “momo.” you spit out but you’re sure it gets lost in the wind. you bang your hand on the windshield, but it does no good either.
you hear the door open, and snaps shut. by the time you turn to look back, momo is rolling on the ground and you’re still hanging off of the roof of her car. “momo! this isn’t how were supposed to—”
you feel your body fly off the roof, and onto the ground with a thud that rattles your bones. you take a deep breath and feel your vision blur. you try to fight it, but you lose consciousness on the hard ground.
you knock quietly on jihyo’s door. there’s nowhere else that’s safe for you to go, especially in the middle of the night. you obviously can’t go back home.
she’s bleary-eyed when she answers but the moment jihyo takes you in, her eyes are wide and she’s on full alert. “what happened to you?”
“my wife.” you walk in, your whole body aching. you’d woken up with what you assume is a concussion and a searing headache. not to mention a ton of twigs in your hair.
“you look like a car ran you over.”
you let out a harsh laugh. “it did.”
she opens her door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “oh. yeah, sit down i’m going to get the first aid kit.”
you stare into space as you hear jihyo shuffling about. you knew it from the moment you saw the picture, but it still feels impossible. “i can’t believe she lied to me.” momo is always going on about honesty, about trying for your relationship. and yet, she was living a whole other life.
jihyo scoffs as she tends to a cut on your cheek. “really? not like you were the most honest person in that relationship.”
“it’s different!” you insist. “i married her because i loved her.” momo didn’t want to talk, and she ran you over with her car. the moment her cover was blown, it’s like she didn’t care at all.
you shake your head. your marriage hadn’t always been like this. you remember days when the two of you first got together, when the two of you lay naked in bed all day, touching each other with gentleness and passion. sure, the two of you married young and it was convenient for you—you needed a cover—but you love momo. or at least, whoever you thought momo to be.
“look, you should get some rest. you’re clearly upset.” she advises. “and probably a shower before that.”
“upset? my wife wants to kill me, jihyo.”
“you don’t know that.” she grabs a towel out of a utility closet and hands it to you.
you hold the towel lightly between your hands. “she ran me over with a car. how else do you interpret that?” you shake your head. “besides, if my firm issued her out as a target to me, i bet you anything her firm did the same.” the two of you are stuck in a loop that’ll probably only end with one of you dead or on the run.
“maybe she’s as confused as you are. vulnerable. she probably didn’t know about you either.” she reminds you as she shepherds you to the bathroom.
“well, she didn’t seem very vulnerable—” you hiss as your face stings from the ointment jihyo roughly applies. “—when she hit me with her car.”
“you seem really offended by the car thing.” you balk and jihyo holds up a hand. “shower and sleep. i’m not dealing with this nonsense at two in the morning.”
you and jihyo search for momo for two days and the two of you can’t find anything. her office has moved, and her car isn’t there when you’ve driven by the house. jihyo has been coordinating with the team at the firm, pulling on those resources too to try and find her. it takes you that amount of time to gather the courage to go back into your house.
you have your gun out and pointed to the ground as you walk in. you feel strangely emotional as you walk in, slowly passing by all the rooms the two of you lived your lives together in. something catches your eye—the curtains are different. it’s the green that momo had mentioned.
“why would she come back and change the curtains?” you mutter under your breath. another thought comes to you. “she’d already bought the stupid things before asking my opinion.” it’s so like momo to just take over something like that, only asking for approval after the fact. why even ask you what you thought? she practically decorated the house single-handedly anyway. you set aside your annoyance as you get to your bedroom.
at first, nothing looks truly out of place. your eye catches something in the corner of the room. you peer inside the trash can and swallow a lump in your throat. with shaky hands you pull out what you find in it, hoping it’s not what you think. your gut drops. it’s the videotape of your honeymoon, tossed away as if it were nothing. momo had definitely been back to the house and with this, she’s made a statement. you look to momo’s side of the closet and there are clothes missing.
you open one of momo’s drawers, finding a stack of her lingerie. your eyes catch on a black one that you bought her to celebrate your fifth wedding anniversary. you remember the night well—the two of you hadn’t fought at all, you and momo spent the night together, laughing and kissing. you pull out the soft nightie, something panging in your chest.
“she’s not really your wife.” you murmur to yourself.
you have to accept the fact that you don’t know momo. you’re fighting for your life now and momo is a stranger, not the woman you’d sworn your life to. if this upheaval has taught you something, it’s that you can’t trust anything that you thought about your marriage. still, you’re weak and you miss momo. you’ve been missing momo for a long time now. you pull the soft fabric to your face, inhaling. it smells just like her. you shove it back in the drawer and close it.
you look at the nightstand on the side of the bed and notice momo’s phone is there. she’d probably picked up a new one. you pick it up and look through the recent calls, calling the last number. you hold your breath.
“golden real estate.” says a chipper voice on the line.
“hi, there i’m calling from hysteria industries.” you give the name of momo’s supposed employer.
“oh, of course! how are you liking the new space?” the voice fills with recognition.
you smile. you have a lead. “it’s working out just fine.” you lay back on your bed. “i have some furniture i need to ship, can you help me out with that?” you would find momo one way or another.
it only takes you another day to be ready to confront momo. you feel the elevator in the new golden real estate building stand still suddenly and you know you’ve been found by momo. you expected as much when you got in the elevator.
a deep voice comes through the speaker on the elevator. “it seems like your elevator has stopped functioning, ma’am. do you want me to send an engineer to see what the problem is?”
the voice isn’t just deep, its distorted. you grin. “no, i’m comfortable right here.” you offer flippantly.
there’s a pause. “is that sarcasm?”
you find the security camera in the corner and stare right at it. “i know it’s you, momo.”
“are you sure you’re comfortable, y/n?” the voice that comes through is husky and teasing—you could imagine that the two of you are in your room alone, instead of trapped in an elevator at momo’s mercy. you’d give anything to go back to a time like that.
“why don’t you come out here and face me? preferably without a car windshield between us.”
“no time for jokes, dear.” you lean your hands on the elevator walls, listening to momo’s voice. “this is your first and last warning, y/n. get out of town.”
you shake your head slowly. “you know i’m not going anywhere.”
“so, you say. but you’re dangling in a steel box with sixty stories of air beneath you.”
your eyebrows climb up your face. “oh, is this a trap then?”
“you think i’d be dumb enough to leave my phone for you to find with a sensitive number on it? i thought you were more than just a pretty face, baby.”
“well, at least you still think it’s pretty.” you quip. as if you didn’t suspect this was a trap from the start. “So what? you have a charge on the counterweight cable and two more on the brakes?” you list off all of the explosives you disabled before you got into the elevator. the silence runs long, and you know momo didn’t expect that of you. “whatever your plain is, it won’t work because you always underestimate me.”
“oh, i do?” momo sounds amused.
“you have no idea what i’m capable of.” you know that’s true, even if you don’t think you could stomach seriously hurting momo. momo always took over everything because she doesn’t think you’re able to do things.
“likewise, baby. did you check the base of the principal elevator cable?” you freeze—you hadn’t seen that. well, fuck. there’s a sigh that blows out of the speaker. “first and last warning, y/n.” she repeats again, this time more sternly. “promise to leave town, or i’ll blow it.”
you lift your hands up into the air. “alright, i give up. blow up the elevator.” despite all the evidence to the contrary, you refuse to believe momo will actually kill you. maybe you’re a fool but you refuse to believe there isn’t some truth to you both being together.
“excuse me?” momo’s voice is strained.
“do it. blow it up.”
“five... four...” her voice trails off. “i’ll do it.” it’s that stubborn tone she gets when the two of you are fighting about which china set to put out for a dinner party. you lean your head against the elevator wall for a moment, hiding your face. god, you miss her.
you look back into the camera and shoot it a smile, imagining momo on the other end. you wish you could see her. “come on now, momo. all talk?”
“any last words?” momo’s voice is smug over the telecom again.
“the new curtains are hideous.” you can’t help but get a dig in.
“goodbye, y/n.” there’s an echo of her laugh in the curl of her words. the elevator that’s rigged—the elevator that momo thinks you’re in—goes into a freefall.
you take a deep breath as you hear the thunderous noise of the elevator you’d been pretending to be in crash into the first floor. you’re about to unplug the cable you’d used to confuse the signals of the elevators, a deep disappointment in your bones. momo really doesn’t care.
just before the connection dies, you hear momo panicked voice come through the line “what the hell was that? i didn’t—”
you pull out the cable and stare at it, almost in wonder. it sounded like real fear, fear for you. maybe not everything is lost after all.
you stay low for a few days but then it’s christmas eve. part of you realizes that momo’s panic could have been for a number of reasons—it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have killed you. but the idea of her being alone on the holiday makes your heart clench. besides, you’re not planning on backing down and being on the run your whole life. when you found out momo made reservations at a familiar restaurant for the holiday, you buy a tailored suit and plans to surprise her there.
you’re glad you catch sight of momo before she sees you because it takes a moment for you to collect yourself. she’s in a dark slinky number with a neckline that shows off the slope of her collarbones. she’s staring vacantly ahead, a single shimmering tear on her cheek. almost angrily, she brushes it off and tilts back her champagne flute, demolishing the drink in one swig.
momo has her hand on the bottle when you come up right beside her. “you wouldn’t be getting all mushy because you killed me, right?”
for a moment, you’re worried momo is going to bash your head in with the champagne bottle from the way her hand tightens on it. you can see the genuine surprise as her eyes rake over you.
“how...?” her voice is barely a whisper, more of a sigh as she drinks you in.
you stuff your hands in your suit pockets, shrugging. “are you impressed?”
“amazed.” it doesn’t even sound sarcastic, and it makes your traitorous heart beat faster.
“amazed i’m still alive?” you make your way to the chair across from momo, sitting down.
she seems to get over her initial shock, jutting her chin up. “amazed you managed to tie your tie on your own.”
you bite your lip to keep in your smile. it was one of your favorite things when the two of you got married. momo would fuss over your tie, making sure it was perfect before pulling you close and giving you a sweet kiss. you can’t remember when she stopped doing that. “thanks, i’m full of surprises.”
momos still eyeing you with something akin to hunger now. “that suit is certainly one of them.”
“thanks.” you think of saying something about how fantastic momo looks but think better of it.
you shift the gun you brought out of your suit jacket and onto your lap. you can tell from the way momo shifts her weight she has a weapon of choice in her lap as well.
“hands on the table?” momo suggests lightly. you nod, doing as momo asks, watching for her hands to do the same. “how did you know where—”
“i proposed here on christmas eve seven years ago. i had a hunch you might be feeling sentimental.” it was less of a hunch than a hope. your heart jumped to your throat when you realized momo made a reservation here, on this night of all nights. you had to come.
momo frowns, eyes guarded. “i came for the clams.” she huffs, looking away.
your eyes trail over her again. she looks so good; it feels impossible for one woman to be this beautiful. “is this a new dress?”
momo rolls her eyes in irritation at the small talk. “what do you want, y/n?” she cuts to the chase, one of the hands bunching on the white tablecloth.
you lean forward, careful to keep your hands visible. “we need to talk.” it’s been all you’ve wanted since this whole mess started.
“about what?”
your eyebrows raise of their own accord. “us.”
she scoffs. “there is no us.”
you feel anger at the denial. “so, there’s nothing between us then?” how dare she just give up? if everything is up in smoke now, it only means there used to be a fire. you and momo burned brightly, and you need to know it was real, if only for your sanity.
she stares coldly at you. “only a table.”
you stand up slowly, pocketing your gun. you walk around the edge of the table and hold your hand out for momo. she stares at it uncomprehendingly until you nod to the dance floor.
“really?” you nod and pull her onto the dance floor. momo rolls her eyes. “you don’t dance.” she informs you dryly.
you lift your arms into a perfect frame and turn your face away, as the tango demands. you smirk when you hear momo’s sharp intake of breath. “all part of the cover.” you say loftily.
momo doesn’t miss a step either, your bodies moving together in a way that’s different than you’re used to. you’ll never get to tell momo now, but you have always wanted to dance with her.
“were the clothes on the bathroom floor every morning part of the cover too?” she grouses as you turn her. you take a step too far, pressing momo onto the wall, not hard enough to injure her but enough for her to realize you’re not fucking around.
you keep moving, not letting momo catch her breath as you reach one hand under her dress, grabbing the outside of her thigh. you keep reaching up until you find what you’re looking for, ignoring all of the soft skin there in favor of the dagger momo is hiding. you throw it sharply, and it pierces the far wall with a dull thud.
momo reaches behind you, grabbing your ass and then sliding her hands up to your waistband, pulling out the gun there, dropping it, and kicking it out of reach. the two of you don’t stop dancing and you ignore the way that momo’s hips move although it’s all you want to think about.
“if i knew you could dance like this, maybe i wouldn’t have thought you were so boring.” its sharp and angry, words meant to cut you.
you pull her into a dip, keeping the two of you there for a moment. “who cares if i was boring? i was just a cover to you.” you accuse openly.
she arches her brow, her foot grazing your calf, almost making you lose your balance. “who said you were just a cover?”
“wasnt i?” you demand to know. how much of your marriage was even real?
momo falters for a moment before she looks determined, a hired gun once again. “excuse me.” she says coldly heading up the stairs.
“there are no exits here.” you point out, although you’re not sure why this would be a perfect opportunity to catch her and end this once and for all.
“i’ll make one.” she spits out before she keeps walking, sliding between people until she’s out of your reach.
you stare after momo, digging your heels in to keep from chasing. she’s a liar. you just need to wait her out. you watch as a few people run and then there’s an explosion upstairs. fuck. you watch as streams of people run out of the restaurant, making it possible for momo to hide in plain sight. you use your height to look over most of the heads in the crowd, looking for familiar brown hair. you think you see her and walk quickly, making it out of the restaurant.
you’re looking around when you bump into an old man. “ma’am, you’re ticking.”
you freeze. amongst the commotion, you hadn’t heard the ticking coming from your suit jacket. you quickly strip it off, throwing it into a mailbox a few feet away. “get back!” you tell, waving your hand and running away from the bomb. it’s a small explosion but if it had been on your person, it definitely wouldn’t have down well. you shake your head. “momo.” you curse. you’d lost sight of her.
you quickly find her car and press your foot on the gas pedal, getting onto the highway as fast as you can. for the first time since this whole mess started, you call momo.
“you tried to kill me.” you accuse, your hand tight on the steering wheel.
momo laughs. “it was a little bomb, y/n. lighten up.” she sighs. “why did you call me?”
“why did you answer?” all of the noise on momo’s side of the line makes you think you’re on the highway too. it gives you a direction, although you have no evidence of where momo is actually going. “never mind that. i want you to tell me something different. tell me, what was the first thing you thought when you met me.” the silence lingers, only the sound of traffic assuring you that momo hasn’t hung up. you have a knot in your throat. “because i thought... the first time i saw you momo, i thought you were the most beautiful woman id ever seen in the day of my life.” you can almost imagine her, dressed to the nines in that tiny bar. her taunting smirk, first at the bar and then looking up at you from the hotel sheets.
“why are you asking me that? why are you telling me this?”
“i guess when you get to the end of something you think of the beginning.” you can see the writing on the wall. this is going to end poorly no matter what and momo’s lost to you. “i just thought you should know the truth.” you want momo to have at least that silver of it. the suggestion that your relationship was real. at least, for you it was. “so. are you going to tell me?”
“i thought you were the most beautiful cover id ever seen.”
your blood freezes in your veins. “so, it was all business from the beginning.”
“mhm. all business. just cold, hard... math.” her voice cracks and all the background noise cuts off but when you look down the call is still going. momo muted herself.
“that’s what i needed to know.” you hang up. you grab the next exit, and you can see momo’s car ahead of you. you speed up, riding her bumper. you can’t believe your wild guess is right and momo went to your house. you smash your car into momo’s as the both of you hit the driveaway.
you’re all instinct as you pull out of the car running as fast as you can and crawling over the hedge. you find your toolshed, where you keep your weapons cache, and open the door. you’re sure momo is looking for wherever she has her stash. you quickly find a silencer, putting it on the gun you had at the restaurant. you stuff your waistband with another two guns and your pockets with ammunition. you also quickly put in ear plugs.
you listen and you can’t hear a damn thing outside. you quickly but quietly make your way into the house. the front door is wide open, so you use the back. chances are momo is waiting for you to walk in blind and she’s set up a trap for you there. you walk through the hallway, not finding momo. you stop when you get to the walkway that leads to the open area of the living room.
you know you can’t look around that corner without being a wide-open target. you look around and grin when you find something of use. you pick up a framed picture of you and momo to try and see around the corner, using the reflective surface like a mirror. you catch a glimpse of momo, and you pull it back. it looks like momo’s set up on the stairwell with some kind of shotgun.
you’re unsure if momo saw the movement of the frame, but you don’t have to wonder for long. multiple bullets spray through the wall, confirming what you already knew. you throw yourself on the ground, cupping your ears against the loud sound of the shots.
“fuck.” you mutter under your breath, but you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears, even with the ear protection. you crawl as silently as you can down the hallway.
“are you still alive, baby?” you hear momo’s voice ring out along with the heavy clunk of the magazine.
you’re tempted to respond but then another thought occurs to you. you make a half-choking sound and imitate a dull thump on the ground. your house is filled with silence.
“y/n?” this time sounds more concerned, and you can hear her get closer.
you start shooting immediately through one of the holes made by the shotgun, watching as momo ducks and rolls out of the way running into the living room. you duck yourself as the bullets spray through the wall she is using for cover.
you quickly run out of your first round of bullets, and you hear a curse from the kitchen, and you figure momo did too. you take a chance and run into the kitchen at full tilt, taking momo by surprise as you tackle her. momo decks you across the face and pushes you against the wall, making you grunt in pain. you push back, using your height advantage to get out of the hold momo has you in.
momo is faster than you and manages to dart out of the kitchen. you can hear her reloading and you quickly do the same, heart beating loudly in your chest. you hide in the next room over standing stalk still to not give away your position. you slow your breathing, trying to think of where momo might have gone. it’ll likely be the bathroom or back out to the living room. the bathroom is too closed off, but the living room is too open. neither is ideal in this situation.
you turn and almost knock down a vase. you manage to grab it, biting your lip and hoping that jostling that stupid thing wouldn’t cost you your life. you recognize it as one that momo bought at a garage sale a few years back. the bullets start coming from the living room and you have to run again. you trip and end up on your back, which is fine for the moment because momo runs out of bullets again. you get up and think to run past momo in the living room to get back to the other hallway.
you only realize your mistake when you’ve already entered the living room—momo wasn’t reloading at all, she’d just pulled out her handgun. she has it trained on you, taking a step closer until you both are face to face, guns trained on each other.
you can see the absolute rage in momo’s eyes as she holds the gun up to your chest and suddenly all the fight gives out in you. when you think of pulling the trigger this close, you feel nauseous. the two of you have been fighting but you know you can’t kill momo. you’ve always known that.
you lower your gun slowly to momo’s disbelief. “i give up.” you say simply.
momo lets out a snarl, tamping her foot down. “no! pick it back up, y/n.” she demands, her own hands trembling on the gun. “pick it up.” she nudges the barrel of your gun with her own.
you smile sadly at her. you grab the barrel of momo’s gun and press it tightly over your chest. the metal feels cold against you, but it doesn’t matter. it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a kiss from momo ever again. “you want it? it’s yours.” your heart has always been momo’s. if she wants to blow through it with a bullet, that’s her right.
momo’s face crumples, tears shining in her eyes in what can only be an expression of heartbreak. it hurts more than any of the hits she’s landed since the two of you started fighting. momo tosses her gun, and it clatters on the ground. suddenly, momo is in your arms and you’re on the receiving end of a bruising kiss.
the force of it makes you fall backward but by no means does it mean you both stop. momo kisses you with everything she has, and you can’t help but respond, offering yourself up in return. you’re not sure if momo loves you or wants to kill you, but you’d happily take this over what the two of you had been doing.
you let your hands roam momo, pulling her close and listening to the groan she releases, and you manage to get a hand inside her dress. “fuck, momo.” you curse, your lips looking for purchase on her neck.
momo tears through your shirt. you’re sure the buttons make some type of noise as they land around the two of you, but you can’t hear past the ringing in your ears. you pull out the earplugs, but it isn’t much better. you can’t find any part of you that cares. you just want to be with momo. it won’t be the first time you make love to her with partial hearing, and it probably won’t be the last.
you turn so that you’re on top, hiking momo’s thigh and hitching it to your hip. “baby, please.” you’re sure you’re almost yelling it, but momo probably can’t hear well either. you’re not sure what you’re begging for, whether for momo to stop or to keeping. to love you or to just put you out of your misery.
momo reaches out, her hands gentle for once, as she tilts your face. your dark hair curtains both of you, like the two of you are closed off from the world. “y/n, i love you.” you have to read momo’s lips to make sure you’ve heard it right but it’s worth everything. “i always have.”
you can feel tears well up in your eyes. “i love you too. more than anything.” you lean down and kiss her again.
you feel momo widen her legs, making room for your hand to creep higher on her thigh. you pull off momo’s dress and when you’re inside of her, when the two of you both groan into each other’s skin and are overcome with the emotions and physical sensations, it’s like the night the two of you met at the bogotá all over again.
it takes hours for you to sleepily open your eyes after momo runs you ragged. your house is in ruin around you both but with momo lounging on your chest, all you feel is calm. you realize momo is also awake when she turns her head, catching your gaze.
“i love you.”
momo’s eyes soften further, and she leans up, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “me too, baby. i love you so much.”
“tell me something about you. something real.” you ask quietly, your fingertips running up and down momo’s arm.
“i suck at cooking.” she says bluntly.
you can’t help but gasp, looking down at momo. “but all the dinners? you cook fantastic.” ever since the two of you were married, momo was always in charge of your kitchen.
she shakes her head, nuzzling further into your chest. “the firm has them brought every day. it was part of my cover.”
you look at her wide-eyed. “my favorite casserole?” you whine in disbelief.
momo laughs, tucking herself even closer to your side, like she can sink into your skin. “oh yeah, baby. that’s all gone now.” a quiet settles around you both as the two of you think of the implications of that statement. if you both don’t kill each other the both of you certainly don't have a way to complete either of your hit contracts. you knew you’d never complete yours, but you’d never thought this far ahead.
“fuck, mo. what are we going to do?” the two of you haven’t talked anything out and you have no clue what options you both even have. “we have to get their traces off of us.”
“well, how do we do that when they want us both gone if we don’t kill each other?”
you place a soft kiss on the top of momo’s head. “i’m not sure, but we can figure it out together.” you can feel momo tensing, worrying about the very real danger the two of you are in. “hey.” you tilt momo’s face to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “i love you.” you say seriously. you’re never going to stop saying it ever again.
momo kisses you fully, leaning over you. “i love you too. and i’m sorry.” her hand gestures to the house that is falling apart. almost as if on cue, one of the picture frames falls off the wall.
you shake your head. “we have insurance.” you joke, your arm snaking around momo’s waist.
momo doesn’t laugh. “no, y/n. we just tried to kill each other. i’m sorry.” she presses a kiss to your cheek.
“we’ve been through worse i’m sure.” you kiss her fully.
she raises an eyebrow. “worse than this?”
“remember that time i forgot our anniversary?”
“oh yeah, that was bad.” she leans forward and places a tender kiss on your cheek. “fuck you, it was the fifth one too.”
“i was concussed! i didn’t know what day it was! i’d spent three days in four different time zones too.” momo had let you have it for weeks and you had stayed silent unable to disclose any of the reasons why you forgot.
“no excuse. i still remembered our third anniversary after getting shot in the foot.”
you pull back to see if momo is being serious. “how did i miss that?”
“it glanced off my boot mostly.” she gives you an impish grin.
you glare. “drama queen.” the two of you settle back into each other’s arms. your ass is numb from laying on the living room rug but you’re not going to be the one to suggest you both to move. you probably have rug burn but it feels like a warm moment between you both and you don’t want it to end.
“i can’t believe you can dance.” momo sighs wistfully.
you feel a pang of regret for all the dances that could have been if the two of you had been honest. “sometimes when i’d see you dancing— i’d do anything to dance with you.”
“you can dance with me now.” you soothe, ignoring your predicament entirely.
“i’ll dance with you whenever you want, baby.” you hum to yourself. “oh! i was married once before.” you add to the pile of things you’d never disclosed before.
“excuse me?” momo turns and glares at you.
you shrug. “it was a vegas thing, wasn’t important.” you’d been young and the two of you had gotten a quick divorce—you honestly forgot at times you were married to anyone before momo.
“what’s her name and social security number?” momo asks, eyes cold and calculating.
you shake your head and laugh. “absolutely not, you aren’t killing her.”
momo buries her head in your shoulder. “i could.” she grumbles.
“you probably could but that isn’t very nice.” you try to keep the laugh out of your voice but it’s hard. the jealousy is silly and unnecessary, but it warms you anyway.
“i don’t have parents,” momo reveals.
“what? who showed up to our wedding then?”
“paid actors.”
it’s silly but your mind jumps to something else. “so, i never forgot your momo’s birthday.” you point out.
“it was the principle of the matter, y/n.” momo sounds a little huffy and you run your fingers down her back to soothe her.
“yeah, that’s true.” you concede. as many lies as there are piled between you both, you know that there were other things wrong with your marriage too. it feels far away now, though. you’ve never felt closer to momo. “can i ask you something?”
“of course, anything.”
“why did you throw out the honeymoon video?” it’s barely a whisper because you’re afraid to ask it.
momo winces. “you noticed that?” you nod, biting your lip to keep yourself from saying more. “i… when i realized that you’d had this other life, i felt so betrayed. i didn’t think you loved me. i felt used.” momo starts haltingly. “the girls — nayeon and mina, i work with them — they just started watching it when i came to pick up my stuff. we looked so happy in it. and you looked at me like—” her voice is filled with tears, “—like you loved me.”
“i do love you. then and now.” you remind gently, brushing a stray tear off of momo’s cheek.
“it didn’t feel that way then. i couldn’t bear to see it, so i tossed it. tossed out the lie.” she explains.
you nod. you understand it well—you’d had the same doubts and fears that momo did. “know this. now and forever, it’s you and me, okay? you’re my wife.” you cup her jaw and bring your lips together.
momo sighs when the two of you part. “okay,” she agrees.
you don’t want to leave but the two of you are probably in danger of getting shot naked if you both push this any longer. “from your firm, is there anyone you’d trust with your life?”
“sana,” momo says without hesitation. “she’s like a sister to me.”
“okay. you get sana, i’m going to get jihyo — she’s the person i trust — and we are going to figure out how to get these contracts off our backs.” you sigh. “and then we can kill our enemies and we’re safe, we can go to marriage counseling.”
momo lets out a soft gasp. “you didn’t want to go before.”
“i was being an idiot before.” there’s nothing worse than losing momo. be it a hitman contract or insidious complacency, you’re not letting anything tear the two of you apart.
“is it bad if i think it’s really sexy when you shoot things?”
you laugh and shake your head. “no, because i think the same.” you place a kiss on momo’s shoulder. “let’s see if we have any clothes without bullet and let’s get our life back.”
momo smiles at you so tenderly, you think you would be okay with dying right then and there.
gayoung and you share a dorm room, but you can't help but wonder why she always arrives late and leaves early each morning
| wc: 3.7 k 🫶
The clock struck midnight, and you were doing your homework. However, you could not concentrate as your mind drifted to your mysterious roommate, Gayoung. Over the course of nearly a semester, Gayoung and you have shared a dorm, and despite your now limited interactions, you always appreciated her—nevertheless, she seems to have a completely changed her schedule from yours, often arriving late when you are asleep and leaving too early in the morning—your occasional conversations would happen during afternoons when she is in the dorm or when you cannot sleep. Despite this, Gayoung was a great roommate, as her side of the room is consistently tidy, she is never noisy, and she always leaves some ready-to-eat breakfast for you.
Every interaction with her left you with a sense of curiosity—there was no doubt that she was chatty, but most of the time, she now seemed nervous around you. It was as if she would rather not be present when you were there. Gayoung was not always like this, you clearly remember the joy she found in your company. Recalling how your favorite shared activity was grocery shopping—it was something both of you were fond of, always joking around about how you resembled a married couple. Yet, in contrast to those moments, the present reality felt distant.
Speculations crept into your thoughts—maybe she wanted to change dorms and was patiently waiting for the semester to end before making the request? The uncertainty lingered as you mechanically typed away on your Google document, the words on the screen blurring into a nonsensical mess rather than an essay—thinking about Gayoung made it impossible to focus on anything else.
Frustrated and needing a break, you considered leaving your laptop on the desk and watching something on the television. Just as you were about to surrender to the distraction, you heard a particular sound—keys rattling on the other side of the door; Gayoung had arrived. You turned your chair around and watched as she entered the dorm, and her immediate reaction spoke volumes—she clearly did not expect to see you awake. The door shut behind her, locking it, and then she leaned casually against the wall.
"Hi, Chocol." You greeted, using her nickname. "How's it going?" You turned back to your homework, pretending to pay attention to it. Perhaps, you supposed, avoiding direct eye contact would help ease her evident nervousness in your presence.
"I'm doing alright." She replied, the audible click of her keys finding their place on the holder. "And you? Why are you staying up so late?"
"Homework." You complained, adopting an annoyed tone. "Mr. Parra seems to hate us. I have to do an essay on English morphosyntax, and I don't know shit."
Gayoung let out a dry chuckle. "Classic Parra move. I had him last semester." She said, settling onto her desk, situated next to yours. "Need a hand with that?"
As you directed your gaze toward her, she promptly shifted her attention to turning on her computer. "No, it’s okay." You said, softly smiling. "Besides, what if he thinks I plagiarized it?"
"He won't even check it. Just throw in some references following APA, he’ll think you did the research." She reassured you. "Send me the document, and I'll help you."
A light giggle escaped your lips. "I accept, but just a bit of help, though. I'm not asking you to write the whole thing for me."
"What have you written so far?" Gayoung asked.
"I've done the introduction and about two pages of just laying out basic definitions and the significance of delving into the roots of words." You explained, scanning through the document. “That’s it, basically.”
Gayoung wheeled her chair closer to yours, positioning herself to inspect the document firsthand. She reached for your laptop and began typing, fully immersed in the essay; she effortlessly began writing.
"Chocol, there's something I've been wanting to ask you." You said, recognizing the rare opportunity that she was there.
Gayoung stopped typing momentarily, her fingers hovering over the keyboard before turning to you and giving a nod. "Mhm, tell me."
"Why are you never here? I've noticed you always show up late and leave before I even wake up." You asked, following up with a little joke. "It's almost like you're avoiding me."
Gayoung chuckled, adjusting her chair to face you directly, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she managed to maintain eye contact for more than just a few seconds. A quietness enveloped the room as she hesitated to respond, however, the atmosphere, rather than uncomfortable, was tense, as if she was about to confess that she found you annoying or that you were a terrible roommate.
She nervously ran her fingers through her orange hair, letting out a small sigh as she poked her tongue out. "Nothing, in particular, I guess." She responded, her demeanor subtly uneasy.
Watching her, you could not ignore that there was more to this. "Are you sure? I mean, it seems like basically avoiding me is more than just 'nothing.'"
"I just enjoy driving around at night." Gayoung explained, her words having a hint of defensiveness. "And I don't want to bother you, so I come back late. It's just that... I guess." She trailed off, revealing she could not find the proper words to form her sentence.
"Bother me?" You questioned, perplexed by what she said. "Why would you bother me? I like being around you. I wish we could interact more often—now we hardly talk in person, and our texts are usually just you saying 'left you oatmeal for breakfast' or simple things. I miss you." You took a deep breath. “I miss how close we were, Gayoung. I miss how we were before.”
Gayoung remained silent, her eyes fixed on you, lost in thoughts. As you continued to look at her, details about her appearance that had previously escaped you became apparent: like how pretty the delicate moles beneath her eye were, the slightly messy eyeliner, and how deep her eye color was.
You pressed on. "Ch... Gayoung, it's been almost five months since we lived together, and this is probably the most we've spoken in the past three weeks. When we first met, I thought by now we'd be inseparable. I remember how we giggled and chatted as we rearranged the entire place, and you helped me unpack my stuff, or the first time we went grocery shopping."
She was not the same as when you first became roommates, the warmth and closeness was long gone.
The memories washed over you, tinged with nostalgia despite their recent occurrence. However, Gayoung rolled her eyes and averted her gaze as she sighed, making you realize that—she might genuinely not want you around.
"Sorry for talking so much, I just wish we were closer. I'll leave you alone." You concluded.
You stood up from your desk, grabbing your phone and keys. Gayoung remained silent, still not uttering a single word as you left the dorm, firmly shutting the door behind you. As you left the building, you sought comfort in the night—the campus was quiet, with nothing open at this hour. Sitting on a bench, you drew your legs up to your chest, attempting to gather your thoughts amid the silence. The thought of returning to the dorm weighed heavily on your mind, you could not stay outside forever, and the uncertainty of how Gayoung would react upon your return made you nervous. The possibility crossed your mind that she might have left already or did not want to sleep there anymore, deepening the whole situation.
In a whisper to yourself, you could not help but acknowledge what awaited you. "Oh my god, it's going to be so awkward now. I definitely fucked this up."
Despite Gayoung's insistence that there was nothing wrong, the lack of clarity on her part only made you worry. If, for some reason, your presence was so undesirable, you could not understand why she would not be honest rather than resort to avoiding you.
The sound of your phone getting a notification disrupted the silence. You chose to ignore it and did not check your phone—however, as the notifications continued, you thought that perhaps it was something important. Surrendering to the constant texts, you checked your phone, unlocking it to reveal it was Gayoung.
chocol<3: hey [1:54 a.m]
chocol<3: hey y/n [1:55 a.m]
chocol<3: please answer [1:55 a.m]
chocol<3: are you there? [1:55 a.m]
chocol<3: where are you? are you on campus? [1:55 a.m]
chocol<3: just tell me; if you're far, i'll drive there [1:56 a.m]
chocol<3: i need to talk to you [1:56 a.m]
chocol<3: please [1:57 a.m]
y/n: i'm on campus [1:58 a.m]
y/n: i'll go to the dorm [1:58 a.m]
As you made your way to the dorm, each step made you more nervous—you wondered what awaited you or what Gayoung wanted to say. Upon reaching the dorm, you hesitated, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. As you got inside, Gayoung sat in the same spot, her head nestled between her hands.
You got close to her, extending your hand and placing it gently on her back, tracing soft circles. "Chocol, I apologize for bringing that up. It's alright—I just hope things won't be weird between us now."
"No." She said abruptly, her response leaving you perplexed.
Suddenly, Gayoung grasped a handful of her hair, an action that showed the intensity of her emotions—you remained still, confused, but ready to offer her your support. Gayoung got up abruptly and stood in front of you, biting the inside of her cheek before trying to speak. She was anxious, it was evident—her hands trembled, and you could hear how heavy she was breathing.
"Cho-" You began, trying to calm her, but she cut you off.
"Things were, and will always be, weird between us." She admitted through gritted teeth, a raw honesty emphasizing her words. “Always.”
"Huh?" You muttered immediately. "But it was never awkward or anything like that." Your mind raced as you attempted to remember every interaction with Gayoung. Besides her nervousness and odd schedule, you could not pinpoint a moment that actually felt awkward.
"For you." Gayoung responded.
Rendered speechless, you were looking into the depth of her eyes, full of an indescribable emotion. Gayoung bit her lip and adjusted her glasses before opening her mouth as if she was going to speak—nevertheless, she took a step forward. The realization dawned on you that Gayoung wanted to leave. It seemed like a paradox—she had messaged you because she wanted to talk, yet, before any conversation happened, she was already trying to leave. She slipped her hands into her pockets and began walking—in an attempt to not let her leave, you instinctively reached out, placing your hands gently on her shoulders.
"Gayoung." You pleaded, maintaining your grip on her shoulders. "You can't just leave."
“Why?” She said sharply. “Give me a valid reason, and I'll stay.”
"I simply asked you a question. It's strange how defensive you are. Is my presence truly that irritating to you? If it is, we can maintain the same routine, but just be honest with me." You expressed. "Chocol, just tell me the truth, I promise I won't be upset."
“You don't irritate me." She mumbled almost under her breath.
"It confuses me." You admitted, realizing you had been unintentionally squeezing her shoulders, and you stopped applying pressure. "You still help me with my homework and make me breakfast, yet you seem so distant—what's so wrong about me that you don't want to see me?" You stopped looking at Gayoung, as now you were feeling vulnerable. “What changed?”
Gayoung delicately laid her hands on top of yours, fingers intertwining, causing a subtle pressure on her shoulders. As you stared at your and Gayoung's hands, a wave of emotions hit you, and at that moment, it felt as though your roles had reversed, and now, you were the one needing to avoid her. She held her silence for a moment, and in that pause, your attention shifted to the cool touch of her rings and the way her gaze lingered upon you, a subtle and slightly crooked smile appearing on her lips. The combination overwhelmed you—this was too much.
"Should I tell you the truth?" She asked, not bothering to wait for your response before continuing. "Now that I think about it, if that's what you want, I'll be honest, pretty." Despite the sharpness in her words, the use of that nickname caught you off guard. It had been so long since she last called you that, but it still had the same effect on you.
As she spoke, memories clouded your mind—memories when she was not anxious around you, when she could make you feel nervous in an entirely different way. Initially, when you first met her, she was playful, making you laugh with her jokes and comments, and her flirty and overconfident personality created a distinct dynamic. Right now, it was as if Gayoung was reverting to the person you first met.
"Gayoung." You called out her name. "Be honest, then."
She gently squeezed your hands before letting them go. As a response, you released your grip on her shoulders, taking a step back, your back meeting your dresser as you gave her some space. Gayoung did the same, maintaining a small distance between you.
"First, let me apologize." She began. "I didn't want to be mean—I was just frustrated."
"Don't apologize." You whispered, a subtle worry settling in your stomach. Apologies seemed insignificant compared to the desire to hear what Gayoung had to say. "Please, just say it." You pleaded. "Why are you avoiding me?"
Her eyes fixed on you. "Well, I suppose I've got nothing to lose in telling you." She let out a dry chuckle—before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
Her hands found their place on your waist, Gayoung’s fingertips barely touching the skin your crop top revealed—an involuntary smile appeared on your lips, as a response to the unexpected affection. Perhaps, at this moment, the words you had dreamed to hear from her were on the brink of being spoken. Only a few minutes had passed, yet an overwhelming silence surrounded the space—it was as if Gayoung was playing a deliberate game, making you wait before talking—every passing second felt like an eternity.
Her eyes continued analyzing you, studying every subtle reaction you made. "The moment we met, I too, believed we'd be inseparable." She revealed. "And that was my mistake."
Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand the ambiguity of the term 'her mistake.' Without saying a word, you allowed her to lead the conversation, recognizing her perceptiveness—it did not take long for her to answer the unspoken question lingering in the air.
"I called it a mistake because every moment spent with you made me want to give you all my time, all my attention, everything." Gayoung confessed, smiling. "I thought of you every second, eagerly expecting to come here just to see you, accompanying you everywhere, buying you your favorite treats, and listening to every word you said."
As she expressed these feelings, a flood of memories came to your mind, making you want to go back to the past to relive the experiences now missed. Her pause carried a certain vulnerability, evident in the slight glistening of her now softer eyes.
She took a deep breath. "I realized I was falling for you the night we were supposed to stay up all night watching movies."
Your gaze met hers, the revelation was not entirely shocking, yet hearing her say it aloud and not in your dreams, made it surreal.
"I remember it clearly. You picked the movie excitedly, midway through, you placed your head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around you. I was so nervous you'd notice my heartbeat." Gayoung recalled. "Then, I noticed you had fallen asleep. I didn't want to move, fearing you might wake up. I hesitated even to lie down on your bed; in my mind, it felt too weird for two friends. My mind raced with questions like 'What if you woke up and found me practically cuddling with you?'"
Drawing closer, Gayoung gently squeezed your waist, and your gaze softened as you looked at her. She seemed entangled in the uncertainties of 'what ifs' and you only wished she had told you how she felt that day.
"I couldn’t sleep that night. I remember when you woke up, mentioning I was up early. I hadn’t even fucking slept." Gayoung chuckled at her remembering the situation. "Throughout the night, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I fucking liked you, how pretty you looked every time, especially when you wore my clothes, and how considerate and caring you are. I began contemplating how I would even tell you."
"Chocol, why didn't you tell me?" You asked, now placing a hand on her back.
"Because I was, and am, stupid." She spoke. "I was scared, so afraid you'd reject me or not want to live with someone who had feelings for you."
As she melted into your touch, it became obvious how much she needed the comfort of your embrace. "Hey, don't say you're stupid." You reassured Gayoung.
"I started avoiding you on a day when I couldn't stop thinking about how much I craved your touch. When I got to the dorm, you hugged me, saying how much you had missed me, and I lazily hugged you back. Remember?" Gayoung said, and you nodded. "It broke my heart because I felt too much for you, and I couldn't confess it. So, I started arriving late every day—I didn't even drive around the city; I just stayed at the library until they kicked me out or in the parking lot, and every time I opened the door and saw you asleep, my heart raced, and I felt guilty."
Gayoung held you even closer, and you moved your hand to her hair, letting it lose itself in her orange locks.
"I feel stupid because I made you feel bad. You obviously noticed I was avoiding you. I couldn't keep it up anymore, so I still left your breakfast ready because it was the only way I could show you I still cared for you without direct contact." Gayoung confessed. "The moment you asked me why I was never in the dorm, it weighed me down because I knew I couldn't lie to you for long."
"Chocol, look at me." You insisted, and she slightly pulled away, just enough to see you. "You should have just told me."
"I couldn't be-" She began, but you cut her off this time.
"I like you too, silly." You admitted with a smile. "The moment I met you for the first time, I almost screamed, I had no idea how I was going to survive being your roommate. Gayoung, you were always attentive, attractive, caring, and sweet- of course, I was going to fall for you too."
Gayoung felt a bit foolish. As it suddenly became very obvious that, of course, you liked her too. How could you not?
"How didn't you notice? I always craved your touch too. I wanted to hold your hand, hug you, and be as close to you as I could. Remember how nervous I got when I had to sit on your lap at Yeni's party?" You giggled.
"Now I've noticed." Gayoung admitted with a laugh. "Just now. Yeni always told me she knew you liked me too, but I never believed her. Damn, I should have listened."
She tenderly placed her hand on your cheek, gently tracing circles before tilting her head enough to make direct eye contact. Your mind was captivated by her pretty lips, and it was evident that she, too, was fixated on yours.
Gayoung got closer, her warmth enveloping you. "Can I?" She asked.
"Can you?" You playfully responded, and she laughed. "Of course you can."
Gayoung closed the gap between you, drawing close to your lips. Her lips barely brushed against yours—she wanted to savor the moment. The kiss was soft and slow, it perfectly reflected Gayoung's feelings. At that moment, held in her embrace, you realized how much you wanted this.
She pulled back, smiling, revealing the happiness that rushed within her. She gave you a quick kiss before hugging you. "Fuck, I adore you so much." Gayoung whispered in your ear.
"Then, kiss me again." You said. "Kiss me every time you think of me."
"If I did that, I would never stop." She replied before kissing you again. The way she held you, made you feel like she viewed you as a porcelain doll, Gayoung was so careful. "Maybe I want you to kiss me when you think of me too." She teased.
"I'm grateful we could clear this up." You whispered.
"Me too." Gayoung said, giving you a small peck on the forehead. "Oh, and by the way..." She chuckled.
"What happened?" You curiously asked.
"Mr. Parra is going to give you a 100." She said. "I hope at least."
"Huh?" You muttered, confused. What did Mr. Parra have to do with you and Gayoung? Why did that old man matter right now?
"I finished your essay for you when you left me alone." Gayoung admitted, and you jokingly slapped her shoulder.
"So, while I was nearly having an existential crisis outside, you were writing my essay?" You laughed. "You're crazy."
"I just wanted to help you with that, and I needed to occupy my mind while I thought about how I was going to speak to you." She confessed.
You gave her a kiss on the cheek, then separated from her, walking to sit at your desk. Gayoung placed her hands on your shoulders and leaned down to rest her head atop yours.
"I'm going to double-check it, thank you." You said, reading where you had stopped writing.
You couldn't see her, but she was smiling. "You're welcome, pretty."
"Gayoung, just one more thing." You muttered. "Promise me that when I wake up, you're going to be here, please."
She let her head fall on your shoulder, leaning against your ear. "Of course, my doll." She whispered. "But, you won't have to worry about that—my arms will be wrapped around you all night until we wake up."
